As if all the lights flickered and faded, the circle begun emitting dark fumes from its edges. The smoke was darker than black, it dulled any and all sparks of light that still lingered in the air, though narrow at the start - just like threads, they spun upwards and grew longer, thicker, collapsing back towards the inside of the circle and slowly filling it with black mist, tumbling in thick clouds. Near the cold floor, they slowly begun to take a different form - the smoke grew thicker and heavier, forming drops of a dark red, almost blood-like liquid, which started to accumulate in a pool on the floor. Piece by piece, both the smoke and the liquid grew in amounts and started spinning, forming a quickly changing whirlpool. Amid it remained the single free space, like a hole opening in the middle of the pool of blood.<br/><br/>A hand of black bones, withered and burned, ancient in appearance, arose from the whirlpool's center, locking itself on the floor, and dragging the rest of its bones up. The collarbones, the shoulderblades, the ribs, the vertebrae, the skull, the hips, the legs and the feet slowly climbed out of the blood and stood amid the smoke, dripping with the thick, dark liquid they were drenched in. Black and menacing, as if they were burned badly...<br/><br/>No, the liquid wasn't dripping. It was climbing up the black skeleton, upwards in vines and entwining around, coating all of the skeleton in blood-red muscles. That was what they were - the red formed flesh and veins, it formed tendons, eventually encasing the form in stark white, nigh porcelain-like skin. The smoke spun around rapidly, falling around the figure to garb it in a torn black gown, cascading around its tall, but slender frame onto the floor.<br/><br/>He searched the room for his summoner. Pale grey eyes, almost colorless, shimmering like candlelight searched for any sign of life, till they found it. The witch. His thin lips formed a smile on his paper-white face, akin to that of a china doll, revealing the sharp teeth of a carnivore, and his long white hair like a bride's veil sled across his face as he curiously cocked his head to the side. With childish joy, he stared at her, a grin stretching across his face, and he slowly stepped forth, towards the edge of the circle.<br/><br/>"Hello..." The tip of his tongue flashed across his teeth as he spoke, staring at her with eyes wide open. "Mother." A childishly joyous smile was plastered on that pale white facade, masking the darkness underneath. He outstretched one bony arm towards her, pointed fingernails like claws reaching after her. "Mother." he repeated.<br/><br/>The ground finally stopped shaking, only soft ash like snow descended upon it. It fell even onto his hair, and was shaken off as he tilted his head the other direction, eyes still carefully observing every move Darcy made. It was a peculiar creature - as white as snow, yet garbed in what one could consider a funeral garment, and a disgusting aura of utter death was spreading from him, like a vapor of a poisonous gas that fills the room, slowly suffocating any life within. Things would vane and wither, lose their beauty and scatter to little more than ash, black, old and dead, nothing but dead.<br/><br/>That was what she gave life to. This creation, on the first sight innocent like a child, was darker than the blackest night without a single star to brighten it.