My lord, I realized that in my previous entry, I referenced the “mara,” as if you should know about them already.  I see from my notes that I began an entry on them earlier, but I scratched it out and never finished it.  They are certainly not a pleasant subject to discuss, in any company, but perhaps it is time to at least broach the subject.  I doubt, though, that one entry will be enough to really describe these vile, unnatural creatures.

The mara are a sort of nightdemon that reside and breed in the deepest parts of the Twilight.  They tend to congregate in the highest concentrations around the spires at the center of the starsisters’ larger cities, though they can also be found lurking in force near the smaller towers that spread the Twilight in the outlying areas.  There are mixed stories regarding their origins.  Some say that they are the spirits of the dead who have opposed the starsisters, bound into earthly form as punishment.  Some say they are the shades of the evil ancestors who first betrayed the Empire of the Sun to the starsisters.  Still others say that they were brought into the world of Khumkato by the sisters when they pierced the veil of the heavens.  I of course have no way of knowing, but I suspect that some variation of the last is the true tale.  I have seen the mara with my own eyes, and I find it hard to believe that they belong here, even in the deepest crevices.  Khumkato can be a dark place, but the mara are darker still.

How to describe the mara?  They are shadow, formless and yet with shape; they are there and yet they are not there.  They have a limited ability to touch someone in our plane of existence, but they cannot hold complicated forms for long.  Thankfully I have never caught the attention of these foulest of  beings, but I spoken to those who have.  The mara slip in and out of your field of vision, even as you look directly at them.  It is said that as you focus on one, you suddenly realize that it is no longer there, only to feel its death-like touch caressing your throat and smelling its revolting breath as it whispers madness into your ear.  When you turn, it melts away only to come at you from some other, unexpected angle.  Its voice, I hear, echos through your mind and into your very soul.  A phrase, though spoken softly, reverberates through you, leaving the impression that certain words–usually the most horrible–are repeated again and again in a cacophony of jarring dissonance.

Perhaps it is their hunger that I find most revolting.  The mara feed off of light and life, both intangibles, but they desperately desire them in corporeal form.  All they need do is drink of a victim’s soul and mind, leaving behind a withered, shrunken husk.  But that is not enough for them.  They try to physically devour their prey, especially the remnants of the human sacrifices the starsisters regularly demand (perhaps it is a boon for their continued service).  However, since they have no settled physical form and certainly no digestive system, all they usually succeed in doing to tearing the poor soul to pieces, and smearing the remnants around until it is a bloody mess of pulpy gore.  I am sorry to say I have seen this happen to on two occasions.  I do not care to see a third.

That is enough on the mara for now, I think.  I would like to have enough stomach left to eat again before I sleep.