As patron saints are to human hope, cacodaemon are to human fear. And I am that which hovers over all, a blister known as Kakodaimon. I am the pride of the zealot converted into judgment. I am the hunger that consumes a life, a secret sin indulged in dark. I am the forebear of a silent curse, I am mother of the wretched lie.

My speciality is deceit, a trick of self delusion. Where righteousness exists and masks cruel intent, there I feed and smile. Certainty is my instrument, superiority my song; love is not my mortal foe but yet another stanza I sing. When tears are shed for the benefit of audience, it is I who lap them up. The apology that serves to blunt the edge of a newly-public shame is choked up past a lump I form and the words are drawn from my whispers.

I am children born to save a bond; I am the innocence tossed happily aside; I am worry over privilege.

I live in the light and you all pray unto me.