Speak, Dark Prognosticus! Teach your dark history! I await your command!

His eyes fluttered under their lids as he began to wake.

Blu-Blumiere! Don't do this!

Blumiere is no more! I am Count Bleck! And no one shall stand in my way!

Bleh heh heh heh....

BLEH HEH HEH! BLECK!

He gasped and sat up, the laugh still ringing in his ears. He looked around, but there was nothing to look at but destruction. Beside him, his father's hand still clutched onto his cloak. He jerked away, dislodging the hand's hold. His stomach turned, and he turned and threw up on the floor. A hand was all that was left. The rest had been obliterated into a bloody mark.

He felt a presence behind him, the same presence that had been singing its siren song to him for all these long years. He straightened and faced it. The book floated there, its pages still open. With an unconscious movement, he flicked his wrist at it, and it obediently closed and went to his hand. He stared at it, the dark power contained within it seeming to seep through its jewel-encrusted black cover.

He tore his gaze away from it and stumbled from the room, blindly making his way through the now decrepit castle. He pretended he couldn't see the bodies that littered the hallways. He pretended he hadn't slaughtered the cruel and innocent alike.

He reached the outside world, but the air was as dead and still as it had been inside the castle. All he could smell was death, and he couldn't seem to quit inhaling so quickly. Wait...Nastasia! What had happened to her?! Had...Had he gotten her too?

He immediately took off in a sprint, breaking out into a cold sweat. He didn't know what he would do without her. How had this happened? Who was he? The dark voice that had dwelled in the back of his mind for years told him Blumiere was dead. It was true. This...Count Bleck, himself...was a speaker of truth. He knew he was right.

His footfalls slowed, until he was walking calmly. He stopped briefly and stared at the direction he was going. He'd left her by the river. There was no rush. If she was still alive, there wasn't a living being left that could hurt her. Except for himself... That got him moving again. The pangs of despair only intensified as he drank in the eradication around him.

He was responsible for all this, for every scorch mark and corpse littering his path. He swallowed heavily. All the while, he heard it, the voice whispering urgently. It was so hard to ignore...

He went around the remains of a building and found her there. She was kneeling down in the middle of the path, trembling, her long pink hair covering her face. Immeasurable relief flooded through him. "N-Nastasia?"

She looked up. Glistening marks were the only thing betraying her silent crying. She gasped and immediately threw herself into his arms. "Oh, B-Blumiere! I was so scared!" It was then that she noticed the blood he was covered with. "W-What happened? What did you-"

He interrupted her with a dark cackle. "Bleh heh heh... Blumiere is no more, dear one. I am Count Bleck."

She separated himself from him. "What are you talking about?!"

He glowered, flinging open his cloak. In his hand, the Dark Prognosticus seemed to pulse, chasing away his guilt. "You see, my dear, Blumiere has been wrong all these years. These worlds are worth nothing. Count Bleck must destroy them, each and every one, obliterate them even more thoroughly than here. You need not follow Count Bleck any longer. He has no need of you."

He looked over his shoulder, at the castle. He would need a base. At once, he headed back the way he had come, no longer paying any attention to Nastasia.

Without hesitation, she followed him, and he watched as the world around them slowly faded to nothing. All but the castle, which remained as dark and imposing as ever, and which he now claimed as his. He laughed a horrible laugh filled with despair and insanity.

Bleh heh heh... Bleh heh heh heh... BLEH HEH HEH! BLECK!

He woke with a strangled scream. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then he remembered. Tonight was the night. The heroes were coming for him.

He flung away the covers, trying to control the shaking of his hands. He owed everything to her. The Dark Prognosticus' power over him had been steadily decreasing, and he knew the remains of Blumiere still existed only due to Nastasia. She had never left his side, not allowing him to die completely. And now, he had found that he cared for his minions, each and every one. He could have chosen far eviler people to help him, but he had not. He had chosen people, not monsters.

He wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead. He wasn't ready for this, to let go of everything he had come to love. But it must happen. He would die either way, and only hoped that he wouldn't bring down everyone around him.

He gathered them one by one, and watched them go off on their own. The warrior and the spider, the bat faithfully by his side. And the jester with a heart of ice, unmentioned in the dark book. He silently said goodbye to them all and took his place, only his secretary beside him as it had been in the beginning. He waited, unwilling and unable to stop the tremors that shook the black castle. He heard only the sound of his heart pounding away desperately in his chest.c