Hi guys! This story is about something... You don't know what it is, but it's coming and it's very, very old indeed. Post The Dying Of The Light, Ghastly is dead(I'm not in denial) but Darquesse might be coming back. This is my first fanfic. I apologise for any grammatical/punctuation mistakes I may make. Even if I don't get any reviews, I'll continue the story.

Chapter 0

It was hungry. That was the first thing that crossed the mind of the being in the body of the faceless man. The thing was more than a little annoyed at all the maintenance necessary on these puny flesh constructs. They lmited it with all their silly requirements, their vulnerabilities. Why, oh why had it chosen to limit himself. He could burn this excuse for a civilisation in a billion different ways. He reminded himself that it had to play by its rules. It would be so much more fun to play a long game with the inhabitants of this world.

But it was best to find food before pondering any more. The thing leapt animalistically over the hillock and ran on all fours to the nearest human. As its legs carried it through the dense forest it resided in,its muscles rippling, the thing realised it could hardly eat without a mouth. But what was that expression so often used on this planet? Oh, yes. I'll cross that bridge when I come to now, all of its multifaceted mind was hellbent on its unfortunate prey.

And now that very same prey was waking up. Jeriamah Lucid and Bronte Lucid, his wife, were awoken by some sort of sixth sense. They felt un unusual shudder of fear, even though the room was empty. The two former Roarhaveners now lived in a fragile barn in the countryside. However, before either of them could so much as get out of the bed, the barn wall exploded. When the dust cleared, the pair found themselves looking at a man. But it was no ordinary man. He wore a suit and tie, but where his face and hair should have been was a smooth dome. Jeremiah screamed. After all, as far as he was concerned, this was a Faceless One come to torture him and his wife to death. Bronte had more presence of mind and fired a ball of white- hot fire at the thing. It smashed straight through the body, leaving a grisly hole in the thing's chest.

It was irritated now. Its body was damaged and it would take too much energy to heal. Yet again the thing contemplated showing them what it really was, burning this stupid galaxy off the map. But no. Food was just a few minutes away. But first it needed a mouth.

Bronte watched in growing horror as a split appeared across the thing's face, where the mouth should have been. The cracking of bone and tearing of flesh indicated that the split grew ever wider, forming something like a jaw. Soon the rip was large enough to fit the rest of its face in. Then, needles as white as bone began to penetrate the interior flesh, from the palette to the back of the throat. Bronte realised this abomination was growing something like a mouth, only a hundred times more vicous. She was off guard and didn't see the blue chains that pinned her and her husband down, like lamb for the slaughter.

It had them now. The thing contemplated which to eat and which to turn to its side. Finally it decided. The woman had hurt it, it was only fitting she died repairing the wound she'd inflicted. It brought down its jaws, savouring the crunching sound that indicated that her skull had split. But the thing wasn't after the flesh. It ripped off Bronte's head and stuffed his hand down her windpipe. It ruptured both of Bronte's lungs looking for its meal. Not that she needed them anymore. Finally, its hand came out, the blue of a soul shining within it. The creature stuffed the soul into her head and crushed it in its jaws. The soul would be slowly and painfully dissected for maximum food potential, no afterlife but a living hell of torture at the thing's hand. But now its fac was marred by a bloody stretch of torn flesh and an improvised, but messy, jaw. The creature repaired the torn flesh for the most part, leaving itself with only a small mouth. But the scars and bloodied jaw gave the impression that the thing was grinning.

Jeremiah was scared. Very,very scared. He'd just seen his wife killed in front of his eyes by something that could only be a Faceless One. And now it was his turn. The hands that were decievingly human rested on his forehead. And suddenly, painlessly, the thing sent a packet of information into his mind. Suddenly, Jeremiah understood what that thing was. But the knowledge came at a price. He now believed his entire purpose in life was to deliver a message dictated by that thing. Oh, yes. And he was utterly,utterly mad.

The creature flew high into the sky. It formed a serpentine tongue and uttered its first words in this body with a rasping, underused voice.

"It's been a long, long time."

Awooga! Awooga! The bad thing detector has decteted somehing bad! Oh noez, I haz forgotz to put in a disclaimer! Well, I own nothing. Skulduggery Pleasant belongs entirely to Derek Landy nad his work and ideas have provided much of the structure for this story- although you may not see it yet. So, mention in the reviews what you think the monster is! But i'm almost certain no-one will realise.