The cold wind brushed against Karon's exposed flesh, and with a shudder he tried to curl himself tighter. It was a vain effort, for his skin was more flayed than not, and in truth he was grateful for the cold. It numbed the pain, made it distant, and allowed him to think on other things.

Like the thoughts that now slowly announced themselves, hesitantly, as if scared that thinking might attract Dolor's attention and bring even more pain. Because she had proven herself able in her field, and no matter how far she took her torture, whenever Karon showed she slightest hint at thinking it couldn't get worse, she seemed to take pride in showing him how wrong he was.

But the worst part was what came after. After he started screaming, after he started begging, when all that was left was the will to do anything to make it stop, she would stop. At the very brink of when Karon thought he was going insane, she would stop and pull him back. She would comfort him, cradle his head and heal his wounds. Her touch was warm and soft, her breath soothing, and her voice always so sweet.  

Karon had learned to hold on to that voice. In the beginning he had held on to the hope of escaping, and he had, many times. Then Timor had come, and enjoyed his hunt, enjoyed fooling Karon into thinking he had just managed to make it out, then revealed how wrong he'd been as he captured Dolor's new favorite toy, making sure he knew he could never beat him. Still Karon tried, many times.

After he learned to stop trusting hope, the rage had come. The pain fueled his anger, and anger grew into blind hatred. He had done everything to spite them all, it didn't matter what, great or small, every chance to scream in rage, every chance to make their comings and going a little more difficult, he had done it. Too late he had realized that all the hate had made him forget other important things, things he could now barely remember; like why he was even resisting at all, what he had fought for all along.

And finally, after his hate had burned out and left nothing, all that was left was her voice. Dolor's sweet voice. Even when she hurt him she cared for him, told him secrets, told him truths. Truths about himself; but words weren't enough, she had said, so she had to show him, which she always did.

And in the end, as she cradled his head and lulled him to sleep, he always thanked her for it.

He had stopped resisting now when she came to him. Instead he tried to do what she said, listening to every word she spoke intently, and did his best to please her, to answer her questions, to comply with her wishes.

She had noticed it, and said nice things about him more often, and even rewarded him in new ways. Like now, as he laid upon a cold slab of stone, and the snow and icy wind whipped at him hard. He stared out at the mountains he saw stretching out into the distance, and he felt no ill-will towards Dolor. This was a reward for him.

He didn't know how long it had been since last he had seen the sun, albeit half-hidden behind the clouds above. When Dolor had first left him there he had hidden from it, too bright and too intense for eyes that had adjusted to the constant night of their forest.

Surprised at the thought, Karon stopped his line of thinking for a second, and instead tried to look at it closer. He had thought of the forest as theirs; not just the soul eater's, but him, too. He was a part of it now, and even though he didn't own it, he belonged to those that did.

“Are you enjoying the view?” Karon heard Dolor's voice ask, and felt both her hands come down and rub his head. The tiny cuts on his scalp stung, but the pain was familiar and comforting.

“Yes, I am,” Karon answered hoarsely, the sound easily lost in the harsh winds.

“Good boy; then I think it's time to go home, wouldn't you agree?” she asked again, her lips brushing against his ear.

“If that is your wish,” he whispered.

Her arms wrapped themselves around Karon, and the energy of a gateway opening ran like currents around them both. Reality shifted for a brief moment, and then Karon was looking up into a starry sky, with the shapes of the dark trees standing out, only distinguishable as the deeper of the black above.

“Get up, darling, and let's take a walk.” Dolor said, her voice sweet and caring.

Karon could barely feel any of his limbs, but he knew that Dolor would never allow him to be damaged beyond what she could repair. So he forced himself up on his knees and elbows, the motion sending jolts of tingling pain at the pressure, and gradually, with a lot of effort, he managed to force himself up.

Dolor never waited for long, and so Karon had barely found his balance until he heard the sound of her light footsteps heading away from him. He stumbled after, his rigid and cold legs unable to bend yet, and so he was forced to waddle, fighting to keep his balance all the more as heat started to return to his limbs. He was in nigh complete darkness, and he did his best to follow Dolor only by sound. He fell more than once as he walked into a tree or tripped over a particularly big root.

Despite the hardships, Karon never once fell behind. He knew what was in store if he made Dolor wait; or, even worse, if he made her have to chastise him.

Eventually they reached the manor, and once inside the warmth struck against Karon like scalding water. He started to shudder uncontrollably as heat forcefully returned to his limbs, and his teeth clattered so loudly he almost didn't hear Dolor when she spoke.

“Back home at last. I'm so sorry I didn't get a chance to take you into a nearby city or village when we were back there, but father has forbidden us from doing anything that could attract attention. A pity; it would have been so fun. We could also have hastened your training with a little help, but I suppose it wasn't meant to be.”

“I'm sorry you didn't get your wish,” Karon dutifully replied, and a small twinge of anger struck on his heartstrings, directed at Maeror for denying her.

“Such a sweet boy,” Dolor said and stroked a hand along Karon's cheek.

The touch stung, the sudden warmth had heated up his body, and blood now flowed freely from the many wounds on his body. Even so Karon tried to smile at her, his lips cracking in the attempt.

“Do you want to return to your room and allow me to continue your training?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes,” Karon replied.

Dolor hesitated, and tilted her head to look at him curiously, her bloodshot eyes of fiery orange scanning for something.

“You actually mean it,” she eventually said, her voice pleased and even sweeter than usual.

“Yes,” Karon answered.

“Then I think this part of the training is finally done. You held on long and strong, my dear, but you are now free,” she said and grabbed his face with both her hands, staring into his eyes deeply.

“Yes,” Karon replied, his voice a little confused.

“Then it is 'Yes, mistress' now,” she corrected him, shaking his head and digging her nails hard into his skin for emphasis.

“Yes, mistress,” Karon repeated, doing his best to smile at Dolor while blood trickled down her fingers from the wounds.

“Very good,” she whispered, then brought his forehead down to her lips briefly before letting him go.

Karon didn't say anything, he merely did his best to remain standing and wait for Dolo- no, his mistress, to lead the way. He was starting to feel woozy, and he knew it was from all the blood flowing out of him.

But he wasn't worried, his mistress wouldn't let him die. She didn't want that.

“Come then, I think it is time for you to get a new room since you are such a good boy,” Dolor told him, and then turned around and went down the right hallway from the entrance.

Karon felt a twinge of curiosity at that, and followed her with a tiny bit more eagerness than usual. He had been down the left before, many times; it led to a big room where Dolor liked to make him play games, and where she sometimes made him suffer the price of losing in front of the other ones that lived in the manor. His cell was also down the left hallway, through the big room and down a stairway.

But he had never been down the right hallway, and he watched intently as they walked forward. The dark wood gave him a feeling of home, and the many paintings they passed by made Karon's eyes widen in pride at his mistress, and eventually tighten slightly with jealousy.

She had painted all of them, when she tried to teach - or sometimes just played with - the other ones that had come before Karon. They were all beautiful, just like his mistress. And she had once told him that she liked to paint them so she had something to remember them by if they failed. She only did the paintings if she thought they were going to fail her completely, and she would have to throw them away.

She had told him that while painting Karon, told him she wanted something to remember him by, because she didn't think he would make it. He hadn't liked that, and he had tried even harder from then on to listen, to do what she said and please her. And he hadn't failed, despite that she had painted him.

When they reached the end of the hallway, and the rows of paintings, Karon didn't look at them with jealousy anymore; he looked at them with contempt. They had all failed; they didn't want to please their mistress enough, but he had. They didn't deserve her like he did, and that was why he had a painting, and was still with his mistress. He was better than them.

At the end of the hallway was a room, dark wooden panels covering the walls and small trophies and other curious items hanging from them; relics from when his mistress and the others had still been traveling the worlds. But in the middle of the room stood a spiral staircase, shining dark metal wrought and shaped like blooming flowers covering the steps and railing.

Dolor continued up the stairs, and Karon followed her obediently. His body had stopped shaking, and even though it was starting to feel cold and numb again, it was a different kind of cold, and at the tip of his fingers a feeling like tiny pinpricks nagged for his attention. He ignored the sensation easily, as it was nothing like what he usually spent hours or even days on end experiencing.

They reached the top of the stairs and headed down another hallway, this one not lined with paintings, but bare. The wood shined glossily beneath the silver chandeliers, where small crystals shone with a white light instead of candles.

Dolor continued past a few doors until she stopped before one just like the others, and motioned for Karon to open it. He did, and felt Dolor gently push him forward, her sharp nails easily gliding in beneath the loose skin and scrape his bare flesh. Once it would have made him wince or even cry out, but now it was just like any other sensation.

The room inside was small, with dark gray walls and one large bed standing in the middle of the floor covered in a black sheet. There was nothing else inside; no windows or other furniture, and after taking a few steps inside he turned around to face Dolor.

She was looking at him as if expecting something, and asked, “Do you like it?”

Karon wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, and he did his best to consider an answer.

“If mistress thinks it is good, I like it,” he eventually answered.

“Poor boy, forgotten so much. Don't worry, you will soon understand things clearly; that is the next step of training you.”

“Yes, mistress, I will do my best.”

“I know you will, sweet,” she said, then flashed a quick smile and continued, “Now wait here, I have something for you.”

Karon nodded and watched as she went out the door and disappeared down the hallway, listening to her receding footsteps. When the sound had faded, he turned to look around the room but soon tired of it; there was not much to see, and he didn't feel well. The wooziness was starting to get to him, and after a while, he was forced to sit down on the bed to keep from falling over. He struggled to keep his eyes awake, and inside his mouth his tongue felt like something sluggish and alien moving around.

He didn't want to fail his mistress by falling asleep; it hurt him to think she would be disappointed, and what she would do to him then. And so it came as a relief when the sound of her approaching drifted in through the door, and soon enough Dolor appeared, but by then Karon's vision was already blurry, and he couldn't make her out as anything more than a dark-clad shape.

“Mistress,” he said, his voice coming out strained.

“Poor boy, lost so much blood. Rest now, I will continue your training after you are in shape for it again. Can't have you breaking now that we are done with the first step.”

“No... mistress, “ Karon agreed before falling over completely on the bed. Relief the last thing he felt when he realized his mistress wasn't angry with him. She was happy.

                     *****************************************************

When Karon woke up, he felt strange. His body was too light, and there was an alien sensation of fullness to him. His eyelids snapped open with far more force than Karon was accustomed to, and when he tried to sit up his body did so easily, the movement fluid and without the shrill stabs of pain he expected.

With a confused look on his face, Karon looked down on his body, and stared at it with the same look on his face for several minutes. He usually woke up in the dark, with the slight chill of the dungeon and the aching pains of countless different forms of torture still echoing in him. He was used to seeing the scabs of dried blood cover him, to feel the brittle bones and burning muscles as he had to force his body to move, to bend it to his will as it screamed for him to stop.

But now, he was met with a golden light trickling down from a chandelier above him, displaying in plain sight the pure white bandages his body was covered in. Karon didn't understand it, and he cautiously moved his hand to touch the cloth. It was smooth, light and clean.

He stared at it hard, and gradually the look of confusion was replaced with one of anger. He tore open the bandages, ripped them off his skin with more and more ferocity. Beneath it he didn't find the burning pain, the scabs or the many angry scars. Instead he found a white-green paste covering his wounds, cool and soothing as it met air and chilled the skin it covered.

Karon grabbed the sheet he had fallen asleep on and wiped away the paste, the sticky salve coming away and revealing smooth, unblemished skin beneath it, most of his scars now gone. He stared down at his body, his malnourished, pale and stringy body, and had to hold back a scream.

Instead he breathed heavily, his mind pushing forth thoughts faster than he could ever remember. It made his pulse beat painfully in his head, and Karon groaned as the surge broke against his consciousness. For a moment he just sat there, on the bed cradling his head. Then he started laughing.

He enjoyed the laughter, for it made the pain drumming inside his head all the worse. He drank the pain in, cherished the lines of lightning it sent throughout his brain. It felt good, familiar and safe. It took away the awful feeling of serene stillness the paste and bandages had cursed him with. If pain went away, it only meant something worse was waiting to happen.

Then a thought struck him that chased away all the others. The paste would not have been enough to heal him so completely, not by itself. His body was the way it was because Dolor had healed him, with the usual tinctures she used to keep him from dying, most likely. But why? She had never taken it this far before; she always just brought him back to the brink, kept him with the scars and wounds, stroked them, praised him for forcing himself to stay conscious as she painted his body with blood and torn flesh.

He had come to, in a way, appreciate the art she had tried to explain to him. The ways she hurt him, with just the right amount of control, was beautiful. And he had grown to enjoy seeing her smile when she was done, and the way her eyes looked at him with pride.

So why had she healed him this much? Why had she healed him too much?

What if she wasn't pleased with him? The idea made Karon's hands crack as they shaped themselves into fists, gripping his hair hard as his jaw clenched. What if all of this was a punishment? That she took away everything they had done together, and then forgot him. Maybe even replaced him.

Karon took a shuddering breath and calmed himself, then growled. If anyone tried to take his place he would make them go away. He was the one who belonged with Dolor, no one else had ever made her as happy as he did.

“My, you are far gone,” an amused voice spoke.

Karon spun around towards the source of the voice, coming from behind him, and there stood a man that Karon didn't recognize. He was bare-chested, with a muscled upper body and a light tan. His hair was black and shaggy, and a small beard graced his face beneath dark eyes looking into Karon's own with mischievousness. He was wearing a dark set of pants ending with a pair of dark leather boots with silver straps, that started moving as the figure circled around the bed while observing Karon.

“Who are you?” Karon growled.

“You don't remember me, do you? Not that I really expected you to, but I deserve some flash of muddy recognition, in my own opinion. I'm kinda the reason you're here, after all.” the figure responded and stroked his beard.

Karon didn't say anything; his head hurt even more now with the appearance of the stranger, and what he said didn't make any sense, his words only causing more pain.

The stranger stopped and tilted his head, then his mouth twisted with a crooked smile. “Well, the memories are still there, it seems, just cowering like so much else of your mind in some deep corner. Don't worry, it'll come back to you in time... and it will be very interesting to see what your new perspective will make of everything.”

“I don't understand... where is mistress?” Karon moaned and rubbed his head.

“The bitch with the nice ass? She's busy with the other hungry things living here. She won't be coming here for a while, yet. Not until the seals here finally manage to detect me, anyway,” the stranger said with more than a little amusement in his voice.

On the bed Karon tensed up and dug his fingers into the mattress, staring at the figure with hatred burning in his eyes, and looking ready to leap at him any moment.

“Don't insult mistress,” he spat.

“That was a compliment, young one... Don't tell me you haven't had the urge to slap that fine behind of hers?”

Karon didn't have the chance to reply. As soon as the stranger saw the look of confusion that came over Karon's face he threw his hands up into the air and sighed.

“Well, she sure did a number on you, didn't she? Maybe this will take longer than I thought. Not that time matters all that much, anyway; you will see how different that might be depending on where you stand, and where you go.”

There was a hint of something hidden behind the words, something in the way the stranger spoke them that made Karon suspect there was more meaning to them than what was obvious. However he didn't know what, nor did he care.

“If mistress doesn't know you are here, I will go tell her,” Karon threatened, then quickly hunched down lower as if expecting an immediate attack.

The stranger only chuckled. “No need, I'll let her know I was here when I leave. I'm not here to see your 'mistress', anyway. I came to have a look at you. You're at an interesting crossroads, after all, and whether you can remember it or not, I have a sort of responsibility for making sure you don't stray too far from your path.”

“I don't understand,” Karon replied and winced. The throbbing inside his head was growing, like something was pushing, trying to get out.

“That's kinda the point,” the stranger told him, then twirled his right hand, an apple suddenly appearing within it. He took a bite and made a grunt of enjoyment as juice trickled down his chin.

Unsure of what to make of the stranger, Karon remained still on the bed, his muscles tense but the air of danger gone. Whoever he was, Karon didn't feel anything threatening or malicious coming from the stranger; if anything, there was a playful sense of something familiar.

The stranger wiped his mouth with an arm and swallowed loudly, then looked Karon up and down quickly before shaking his head. “We'll just have to see where this will take you. It can go both ways at the moment, it'll really depend on you where this leads.”

“I go where mistress wants me to go.”

“Your 'mistress' has something else in store for you. She wants a pet, a toy; entertainment, simply. I can't blame her, though; poor woman must be half-insane after all the time spent locked in here like some kind of sadistic princess waiting for a prince she can torment. Of course, the insane ones are usually the best in bed, so do enjoy yourself.” The stranger winked.

Karon didn't understand; the thing inside his head was beating furiously to let it out, and it wasn't a nice pain anymore, it wasn't pain from his mistress. It was bad pain.

“I want mistress,” Karon moaned and clutched at the bedsheets harder.

“Understandable, been a few months now since you last got some,” the stranger said and took another bite out of his apple. "But I got places to be, so I have to wrap this little reunion up."

In the blink of an eye, the stranger changed. Power rolled off him in visible waves, all of it with a sense of mocking laughter. He had power, and he wasn't afraid of anyone inside the manor. He dashed forward and gripped Karon's head in his hands, lifting his entire body into the air like it weighed nothing, then brought his lips to Karon's ear and whispered,

“She can read from you as she tastes it. But she can never teach you what it is to be something she is not. She's not a trickster; she can only strip away the surface. What emerges is something even she will not understand, and without understanding there can be no control. That is our greatest weapon; be shapeless, faceless, and always precisely out of their reach, where you can lead them where you so choose. This will be your test, my student. Know yourself, and it will not matter what memories you carry, or not. And when you do finally feel the urge to slap that fine ass of your 'mistress', remember: you got that from me!"

Karon fell down on the floor, the stranger gone without a sound. He shuddered as the words dug their way into his mind, sinking firm hooks he knew he wouldn't be able to shake.

He remained kneeling on the floor, wishing for mistress to come and take it all away. To make things simple again, use pain to burn everything away and look at him with pride.  

With an explosion of power the door to the room blew off its hinges, and in rushed Dolor with an aura of crackling power surrounding her. Purple and scarlet energy ran like currents around her, angrily buzzing and ready to lash out and destroy anything at her whim.

Her eyes swept across the room, and when she could see nothing else besides Karon on the floor, the angry buzzing faded away as the aura disappeared, and she walked over to him.

“Mistress!” Karon exclaimed joyfully with tears streaming down his face.

“I'm here, sweet; what happened?” she asked as she looked deeply into his eyes, and he felt her mind dig into his, searching.

“There was a man here. He talked to me, said things I don't understand. He talked about you, and me; he said you can't teach me! Mistress, please don't say he was right, I promise I will do everything you ask and listen. I will learn everything you want me to!”

Dolor's cracked lips shaped into a smile, and she hushed him while stroking his head tenderly.

“Don't you worry, sweet; you will get a chance to prove how much you want to please me. How good you want to be. That thing was nothing; the shadow of another being from another place far away, and he tried to lie to you. But you were good, my sweet, and didn't listen.”

“Yes, mistress, it was just a lying shadow,” Karon repeated, letting Dolor cradle his head at her chest.

“Yes it was, and you will forget it and everything it said, I will make sure of that.”

“If it pleases you, mistress,” Karon said, his body relaxed and his face wearing an expression of serenity.

“It will, sweet.”

               **********************************************************

Karon hissed between clenched teeth as the red-hot blades were removed from his armpits, then bit back a scream when two ice-cold blades were stabbed into his flesh to take their place. Spots danced behind his closed eyelids, and he felt his mind trying to slip away and black out, but he forced himself to remain awake. Dolor wouldn't be happy if he fainted.

“Such a good boy; you haven't screamed even once so far.”

“Thank you, mistress,” Karon said while he slowly let out his breath and forced himself to relax, accepting the pain flooding his senses.

The icy blades remained where they were for only a few seconds, then they slowly, almost teasingly, were removed.

Karon was face down on his bed, neither his hands nor his legs tied. Dolor had said that was only needed with unwilling toys, and Karon wasn't one anymore. So he had done his best to stay still, even though he couldn't help the shaking. And she had appreciated it, he could tell in the way she had cut him.

He felt Dolor drag a nail across his back, sliding through the blood and sweat. Karon shuddered at her touch, but not because of pain. He couldn't put a word to it, but being near his mistress made him feel good.

“You don't hate me hurting you anymore, do you?” she purred and dug her nails into him hard enough to break the skin.

“No, I like pleasing you, mistress,” Karon replied honestly.

“There are many ways in which you will please me,” she whispered in his left ear before biting it hard.

She held it between her teeth and pulled back her head slowly. Karon's earlobe stretched out until a part of it ripped off. He didn't flinch, or show any sign or reaction at all to the pain. Blood flowed freely from the wound while Dolor grabbed Karon's shoulder and turned him around, giving him a clear view of her in her blood-drenched dress. She smiled down at him, her eyes beaming with pride as she visibly chewed on his piece of ear before swallowing it.

“I will do whatever you want, mistress.”

“I know you will, my sweet, which is why it's time to move on with your training,” Dolor said and licked her lips.

“Whatever you want, mistress.”

Dolor got off him and walked out the door, leaving Karon naked and bloodied on the bed, where he silently remained waiting. She returned a few minutes later with a light blue vial in one hand, and a spear in the other.

There was something about the spear that sent a jab of pain through Karon's skull, and the throbbing returned as something pushed from deep within his mind, trying to claw its way out.

Dolor handed him the vial first and said, “Drink; it will make sure you don't get an infection and heal you well enough to function.”

“Yes, mistress,” Karon replied, eagerly drinking the vial's contents.

It spread a warm sensation throughout his body, and the pain receded slightly without the distant numbing Karon was used to Dolor's tonics causing, leaving him clear-headed.

“What is that, mistress?” Karon pointed at the spear.

“This is a part of your training, my sweet. This spear used to belong to you, before you became mine. I want you to get to know it, talk with it, let it see who you have become. After that we'll see what use we can make of it.”

“Yes, mistress,” Karon replied with a note of confusion in his voice.

She walked over to the bed and dropped the spear on him, then bent over and stroked his forehead tenderly. “I will be coming to see you later,” she said, then turned around and walked out of the room.

Karon sat up and took the spear in his hands, then flinched as a sudden presence forced itself into his mind with a jubilant scream.

“Master!”

Instinctively Karon reached back into the mind connecting to his own, and responded.

“Who are you?”

Several seconds passed before the reply, given in a shaky, confused voice. “Master... it's Promise.”

“I don't know any Promise,” Karon replied, and realized the presence came from within the spear.

The spirit inside it felt strange, like it was several spirits sharing the same space. However, through the haze of the fractured mind, Karon still felt the sadness it reacted with from his answer.

“I will kill her,” It eventually said, the whispered thought dripping with malice.

“What?”

“The soul eater bitch. She did this to you, made you forget me, just like she tried to make me forget you. She couldn't break me, I exist to serve mast- A MASTER THAT HAS FORGOTTEN ME!”

“Don't threaten mistress!” Karon's fingers tightened around the spear, and he had the sudden urge to try and break it over his knee.

“She is NOT your mistress! You are master and you belong to no one. You make commands and I obey because it is I that belongs to you.”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” Karon told it and pressed a finger between his eyes, ignoring the pressure rising in response to the spirit's words. “The only reason I am even talking to you instead of destroying you for insulting mistress is because she told me to. So show her the respect and love she deserves!”

Karon expected a hot reply or forceful denial, but instead there seemed to be some great conflict going on within the spirit that the spear was housing. The energy inside was shifting in turns, going through different forms and never once settling on one for very long. One second there was anger and bloodlust practically radiating from the weapon, the next the energy had shifted and serenity dominated it, then fear, then back to anger; and so on it went until Karon had lost count of all the times the spirit had changed.

He had just started to wonder if the spirit couldn't make up its mind about something, or if it didn't even know what it was, when it finally responded.

“I serve master, the great master who brought me into being through the inspiration he caused in his allies, and the enemies he utterly crushed beneath his heels. And if master has forgotten himself then I will help him remember... and if master now serves the soul eater, then I will obey.”

Karon tilted his head slightly and considered the spear in his hands, and the spirit within. He could feel how it was only through sheer force of will it had managed to utter those words, that thought, to him. And he could sense no deception, either; the spirit had meant it. And for some reason he couldn't describe, Karon knew that he was very good at sensing lies.

He couldn't understand why his mistress wanted him to speak with the spirit. Maybe it was a test? Or maybe it was something else. It didn't matter, Karon didn't need to know. Mistress had told him to speak and get to know the spear, so he would.

“Fine. Mistress said to speak with you, so I will. If you think telling me about this person you think I am is what you should speak of, then I will listen. At least until mistress says not to.”

Inside the spear the spirit's energy rippled as if it shuddered, then he felt it press upon his mind a little more clearly, more focused.

“I will tell master of the person he is, and the great things he's done. And master will remember...”

                  *******************************************************

The sun shone brightly and made Karon squint his eyes as he surveyed the valley below him.  He stood at the edge of a cliff located near the bottom of a mountain, and his view stretched far to the other side where another mountain stood, shrouded in blue mist and capped with a snow-covered peak.

Between the mountains rested a deeply inclined valley, with a lake in the middle which several rivers flowed down into. At the beach of the lake stood a medium-sized town, with many towers and thin buildings reaching high into the sky. It shone with a pink and golden light as the sun's beams reflected off the shiny material the town was mostly comprised of. It was far away so he couldn't see it very clearly, but no flash of memory or recognition went through Karon's head as he looked upon it, which made him suspect he had never encountered it before.

He breathed in the fresh air, tinged with the smell of something bitter and strong, and simply observed. Dolor had brought him there hours ago, and left him with the simple instruction to 'watch and nothing else'.

And so he had; with perfect discipline he had stood at the edge of the cliff and watched the valley. He had memorized the layout of the land and knew the details of it, watching in silence until nothing was left but speculating on what things might do, or what would happen if this or that occurred.

He had been patient and done nothing but watch; however, he could feel his discipline slipping, fraying at the edge. He wanted more, he wanted to go down into the valley and touch the trees and bathe in the rivers. He wanted to smell the air and taste the fruits, he wanted to go into the town and experience the people there.

He tapped a foot rapidly and scratched at one of the many caked wounds he had on his arms. The feeling as his nails clawed away the dried blood and found the flesh beneath sent a shiver of pain through him, and Karon's mouth twitched into a smile.

Lately, Dolor had been very lenient in her teaching of him. She still hurt him, taught him of pain, but it was in a way that wasn't half as intense as what Karon remembered. Some entire days he spent without her visiting or hurting him, instead being forced to listen to the spirit Promise's long rants about the greatness of its master.

For all its ramblings, Karon remembered nothing of it, only brief flashes of headaches answered the spirit's tales. He didn't care for it. Promise might be deluded enough to think he was great, but even if Karon had indeed once been that person, he didn't want to be again. That Karon had never known the great love of Dolor, or the many truths she had taught him of pain. He had resisted and tried to run from her. He was a fool and deserved to die.

He continued scratching at the wound until his fingers were slick with the blood flowing out freely. The cliff was located pretty high up from the ground level, and so he imagined he wouldn't have to deal with the armies of flies probably present down in the heavily vegetated valley.

And with that thought, his mind returned to watching it while doing his best to repress the urge to go down to it.

Finally, as the sun was setting behind the opposite mountain, casting purple streaks across the white clouds above, did the sound of footsteps drift across to Karon, and Dolor walked up to stand beside him. Her eyes drifted from the valley below, to his blood-covered arm, then she nodded with a satisfied smile.

“Have you watched the entire time, my sweet?”

“Yes, mistress,” Karon replied hoarsely, the heat having left him dehydrated and his throat parched.

“Then it's time to return home,” she said and cut a hand through the air, and a gateway instantly opened to envelop them both.

The shimmering energy faded and left them in total darkness. Dolor put a hand to Karon's arms and spoke, “Did you enjoy your visit, my sweet?”

Karon hesitated; the thought of lying to Dolor was reprehensible, but he didn't want to disappoint her, either.

“If mistress is pleased, I am,” he eventually responded.

The answer usually was enough to leave Dolor pleased, for her to understand that all that mattered to him was her. This time, however, she didn't remove her hand from his arm, and she spoke again a little more insistently.

“That is good, but I asked if you enjoyed yourself.”

The question made Karon squirm. If it was important to Dolor that he had enjoyed himself, then he had failed; and the thought that he might cause his mistress grief was enough for him to wish he had just thrown himself off the cliff instead. However, he couldn't lie to her, either.

“I...”

“Yes, my sweet,” she said encouragingly, her voice dripping with sensuality.

“I didn't like it,” he whispered, bowing his head in shame.

Complete silence pressed down heavily on them, the lack of light making it all the more tangible. Karon wrung his hands and licked his lips, the silence that kept on stretching out squeezed all the harder as he imagined Dolor looking at him with disappointment, with contempt that he couldn't do as she wished of him.

“Why didn't you like it, my sweet?” Dolor's voice was tender, caring, not angry or disappointed. It sounded like she was hurt, and it made Karon's eyes tear up at the thought that he could have failed her so badly.

“I watched, but I wanted more. I... wanted to go down into the valley. I wanted to see what it is like walking in it, to taste and touch and hear the life and things there. But I couldn't, you told me only to watch, so I only watched,” Karon forced his shaky voice to speak the words, and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands, waiting for Dolor to condemn him.

“It's fine, my sweet,” she eventually said, her voice a monotone whisper.

She let go of his arm and walked away, the sound of her footsteps drifting out into the dark. Karon followed her while tears rolled down his cheeks. He absently moved through the forest skillfully; uncountable times of trailing after Dolor with nothing but sound to guide him had grown it from being difficult to simply being a habit he performed with ease.

The slight feeling of wind on his skin, the echo of sound bouncing off the trees, the pinpricks of starlight appearing in between the crooked branches. His body picked up on these clues and moved him forward steadily, keeping up with Dolor while his mind clutched itself in torment.

It hurt in ways he could not describe as his face twisted with guilt. He wanted to throw himself before his mistress and beg her forgiveness, tell her he would do anything to make it better. However he didn't, his mistress would not appreciate it, it would only reveal how pathetic he was. There should not have to be any need for forgiveness. He should not have failed her in any way at all. She was supposed to look at him with pride, her face shining with fierce joy as he complied with her every whim, and did even better than any other could have.

When they arrived at the mansion and they walked into the lights spilling forth from the windows Karon got a look at Dolor's face, emotionless and distant. His chest felt like a freezing hell of sharp icicles digging into his heart as he saw that look.

And then there was the pressure in the back of his skull, doing its best to break free of whatever hole Karon had long ago pushed it back into. It appeared to want to tell him something, that there had been something off in Dolor's voice, and that things weren't what they seemed.

Karon ignored it and followed Dolor inside, and when they stood in the hall he fell down on his knees and gripped her dark dress, the silk smooth and comforting to the touch.

“Mistress, I have failed you. Please punish me, hurt me. Take away the bad thoughts and feelings so I can do what you desire without failing.”

He had never wanted anything more than he wanted Dolor to grab him by the throat right then and drag him back to his old dungeon room. Strap him to the roof and peel off his skin, rip slices of flesh while she burned him with red-hot iron. To leave him for days beneath dripping water and crush his bones, tear him apart, whatever it took to make everything better and her happy again.

“Not tonight, sweet; I will be busy with other things. Return to your room and talk to the spirit... or whatever else you want, it doesn't matter to me tonight.”

There was nothing she could have said to hurt him more, and Karon let go of her dress and fell down on the floor with despair written all over his features. He listened as she walked away from him without once stopping to look back or even acknowledge him.

He remained on the floor, silently weeping. However, after a while another sound of approaching footsteps cut through the pained cries, and Karon fell silent, then heard a voice speak with gleeful malice.

“Well, look here. Has Dolor finally tired of you, trickster? Has she realized what an awful pet you make? I think she has, and soon she will abandon you in the forest, and I will hunt you down and eat you. And forever shall Dolor remember you as just another failure; only I have, and ever will be, the one that was strong enough.”

Something feral started to rise within Karon, demanding him to stand up and rip Timor's throat out with his teeth and howl victoriously as he was drenched in his enemies' blood. However, at that moment the pressure changed, and instead of pushing to get out it felt like it was trying to draw Karon in, holding him back from attacking Timor and certain death.

“Wait, that is not how we fight,” it whispered, the voice distant yet somehow familiar.

For once, Karon didn't fight it, instead listening to the insistent whisper; then he slowly blew out the air he'd been holding through his nose and relaxed. He rose from his curled position on the floor and looked straight into the dark eye-slits in the soul eater's golden mask and said, “She hasn't tired of me yet like she has tired of you.”

Timor's hands flashed forward quicker than Karon's gaze could follow, but the needle-pointed claws that sprung out from his fingers stopped inches from Karon's face, and held there, wavering uncertainly.

Karon held the stare into Timor's unseen eyes, and a realization shot through him as he sensed the hesitation of the soul eater, and what laid behind it. Timor was afraid. He was terrified of Dolor, and Karon could sense the fear, and with that another sensation came over him, originating from the pressure in the back of his skull. It wasn't a voice, but an understanding, that Karon was sensitive to such things, that he could sense the fine energy and what dwelled inside any being, living or dead, far better than most.

“Scared of what might happen if you hurt Dolor's new favorite?” Karon asked mockingly, and chuckled when Timor twitched in response. “Maybe the reason you like fear so much is because you are so afraid,” Karon went on, his voice gleeful as the soul eater backed away with an angry hiss.

Karon tilted his head as a thought struck him, then he smiled broadly, “Maybe that is all you learned from her. Maybe that is the reason she grew tired of you, because all you learned from her was fear. And that is the reason I have already won; you are an aborted failure. Dolor hasn't taught me fear, she has taught me love and truth... you never did make it. You're just a pathetic shadow of what Dolor really wants, what I will become.”

Timor's hiss had reached an entirely new level of rage by the time Karon finished talking, his fingers twitching as he crouched low, ready to leap forward and unleash his anger.

“Go ahead,” Karon mocked. “Kill me even though Dolor still hasn't abandoned me, show her just how much of a failure you are. That you will never be able to obey, that you're just a wild animal, unsophisticated, uncontrolled and most of all... boring. You bore her, Timor, and that's why she will never love you as she has loved me.”

Timor held completely still while his entire body shook with held-back rage, then he turned around and stomped off, turning down the left hallway with the sound of his claws tearing into the wall as he went.

A smile of complete satisfaction was plastered over Karon's face as he listened to the fading sounds of the soul eater, then it slowly fell away.

Even though there was something that told him he had been completely right about Timor himself, Karon wasn't sure if he himself was anything more to Dolor now than another failure, another Timor. He felt despair trying to push him down on his knees again, but he fought against it. His mistress was too important for him to give up now.

He headed down the right hallway and walked to his room, and as soon as he had entered his eyes fell upon the spear that stood resting against the far wall. He headed over and grabbed it, immediately feeling the presence of the spirit's mind connect to his own.

“Master, what's wrong?” it asked, instantly picking up on his emotional state.

“I've asked you to stop calling me that.”

“You are master. It is right I call you that even if you can't remember.”

“For someone that says it will obey its master completely, you don't seem very interested in obeying me. You sure you're not confusing me with someone else?”

“I obey master in all things, but master isn't himself right now so I have to make some decisions for him I know he would wish.”

“You're serving a memory, then, of someone I'm not sure I really used to be.”

“If master says so,” the spirit replied without believing it for a second.

Karon's mouth twitched a little at the tone of the spirit's message, completely obedient yet still with some hint of mischievousness. It struck another note of recognition in Karon, like it was something he was used to, but not from the spirit. He could not remember ever feeling the spirit communicate with him like that.

He walked over and sat down on the bed with the spear in his hands, a thoughtful frown making its way to his face.

There was something going on inside him, feelings and thoughts and snippets of things he didn't understand appeared only to fade before he could properly grasp them. He wanted nothing more than to make Dolor happy, to serve her as she wanted him to. But he failed her because he had wanted something different than to obey, he had wanted more. Maybe the key to being what Dolor wanted him to be laid in first understanding these strange things inside of him.

He knew he didn't need to be afraid. There was nothing Dolor couldn't fix or teach him with pain, and if he discovered something bad inside himself she could easily burn it away and show how wrong it was.

“Promise...”

“Yes, master?”

“I want you to tell me more... about your master.”

The spirits mind heaved with shock for a moment, then it responded with ill-concealed joy.

“I will tell you everything.”

                           *********************************************

Karon woke up to the sound of the door slamming shut loudly. He twitched violently and scrambled out of bed, finding Dolor standing in his room with an expressionless face.

“Mistress,” he voiced and stood up straight.

“Good morning,” she said to him with a tone of complete neutrality.

A chill crept up Karon's spine as he looked into his mistress' eyes and saw nothing of the usual warmth, the loving kindness. He stood silent and waited for her to tell him what she desired. Instead, the silence stretched on with her only looking at him without a hint of emotion.

“I have no need of you today, sweet.” she eventually said, then turned around without another word and left.

The door closed behind her gently, Karon remaining standing with his eyes fixed on it. As time passed came the realization that she wasn't going to come back and explain to him what she meant by that.

Thoughts and images of him being abandoned by her flashed through his mind. Absently, Karon walked over to his bed and fell down on it, staring blankly up towards the ceiling as questions demanded to be answered.

What if his failure had been final and she didn't want him anymore? Maybe she thought of him as a burden and was already looking for a replacement, someone that would do better than he had.

Something cold and stinking of fear crawled up inside his chest and latched itself onto his heart, burrowing its way deeper and deeper the more Karon tried to find an answer to the question, but without success.

There was something else pressing at the back of his mind again, trying to make itself heard. Karon ignored it, and instead curled up on the bed and clutched at his chest, suppressing a whimper at the thought of never again feeling Dolor's warm hand cradle his cheek and whisper truths about himself into his ear. To never again feel the pain she drowned him in, and the pride beaming out of her eyes when he accepted it with his entire being.

Distantly the spirit Promise called to him, like the echo of an echo it was muddled and barely comprehensible as anything else but the desire for him to pick it up and talk to it. Let it comfort and give him something to rely on.

Karon ignored that, too. He didn't care for spirits or mysterious voices inside his own head. All he wanted was to serve his mistress, to make her happy and feel her approval.

So he remained curled up on the bed, letting the world and everything else besides his fears slip away.

Days passed into weeks, and eventually time ceased to have any meaning and Karon lost himself in the complete static of his life. Only once was the monotony interrupted with the appearance of his mistress.

She had come inside wearing her black crow mask again, the sight quickly sending the hopeful flare Karon had experienced at the sight of her down into a pit of despair. She had shielded her face from him, and he understood why; he wasn't worthy of looking at her anymore.

She had walked inside and picked up the spear and then left again. Silent, and without even acknowledging Karon's existence.

He hadn't cared the least that the spear and the spirit inside had been taken from him; the few times he had spoken with the spirit it had just tried to tell him his mistress didn't matter, that he should escape and go back to being someone he didn't even know.

The spear didn't matter, only his mistress did, and she didn't want him anymore. It was too obvious now that she had tired of him. He had failed some crucial test and didn't deserve to be near her anymore.

She had left him in that blank room, with a single bed to lie down and rest on until death took him. For some reason the silver-masked servants still brought him food and drink, however the more Karon thought about it the more logical it sounded that they did so only because Karon mattered so little; his mistress hadn't even cared about telling them it was time for him to die. He wasn't worth even that small amount of effort, anymore.

The absolute and total lack of anything happening was forcing itself down on Karon's mind with more strength than any pain his mistress had given him could. It moved with the patience of time itself, and ate away at everything he had gained for as far back as he could remember. All the way until that sea of endless pain he had woken up from, then stopping as it reached a barrier his memory could not breach.

He spent his days walking in circles around his room, thinking less and less as each day passed. In one of the rooms corners a pile of waste slowly rose in height and size, the smell permeating everything in the room. Eventually he had started painting the walls with the excrement, trying his best to remember the different sights he had experienced with his mistress, but it always ended up as looking like nothing but vague shapes.

The tattered red robe he had worn as far as he could remember laid torn next to the pile of waste, ruined by Karon's repeated attempts at washing himself with it, and a small portion of the water he was brought every day. At one point or another, he had stopped trying, and accepted the growing layers of filth covering his skin.

Whenever he rubbed some of it off him, he noticed that beneath the sour stink and the cracked dirt his skin was weirdly pale. Not the translucent pale he somehow knew some people that never saw the sight of the sun got, but rather a gray-like paleness, as if he was covered in smudged ash.

His body was thin and his bones jutted out in sharp edges at every corner, his ribs especially noticeable every time he drew his hand across his bare skin. He didn't care; he ate what he received, on the small possibility that his mistress would one day return and decide to give him another chance.

And every time he dared hope for such a thing, the now-familiar fear rose to strangle it, reminding him that he was nothing but a failure to her.

The pile of excrement grew and grew until finally one day, when it stood taller than Karon and the air had grown thick with fumes did the door open, and instead of the usual silver-masked servant with food, Dolor stepped inside, her black mask on and hiding her face from him.

Karon had been banging his head on a wall when she did, and he continued as the event slowly processed, almost arduously so, and he understood that something out of the ordinary had taken place.

He stopped and turned his head towards Dolor, eyes blinking incomprehensibly.

She walked over to him slowly, her steps lithe and showing no sign that the smell bothered her. She halted just in front of Karon, her head moving up slightly as she took in his appearance.

“Do you understand now, my sweet?” she asked.

Karon had almost forgotten how sensual her voice was, and the wonderful sound rolled out from his temples into his entire body like a wave. His knees started shaking and almost buckled beneath him, the actual meaning of the words she spoke lost in a haze of pleasure.

She repeated the question, and this time Karon tilted his head and stared at her mask as he tried to decipher the meaning of her words. His mind felt like something thick and clogged, moving at an excruciatingly slow rate, doing its best to make connections that were no longer there.

He opened his mouth slightly, his brows furrowing in concentration as he tried to understand what it was she was trying to ask him.

Eventually, when a bit of drool started to pour out of the corner of his mouth, Dolor sighed and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes up directly towards the black eye-slits of her mask.

Karon moaned, half in protest, half in pleasure from the touch.

“I think you do, my sweet,“ she said after staring into his blank eyes. “I think you understand pain.”

“Hurt,” Karon groaned and more drool escaped his mouth, dripping down on the back of Dolor's hand.

“Tell me,” Dolor leaned forward and whispered.

This time the moan Karon elicited was entirely of pleasure, and his eyes grew misty and distant. Dolor didn't move her head, but her nails dug into his chin hard and she spoke again, “Tell me, my sweet.”

“Hurt,” Karon groaned and doubled over, clutching at his chest as Dolor released him from her grip.

“More, my sweet.”

“Hurt me, please,” he wheezed, his voice raspy from going so long without use.

“Why do you want me to hurt you, sweet?” she asked, stroking his head lovingly.

“Hurt me, please,” he begged again.

“Why?”

“Hurt... hurt so much when no hurt. Please...” he said, the words stumbling over each other.

Dolor moved a hand up to her mask and undid the clasp, letting it fall to the floor and then grabbing Karon by the throat and forcing his face up to her's.

“Then you finally understand, my sweet, young trickster. No matter how skilled one is in causing pain, no matter the power and skill one wields, time is more powerful. Time always wins. The true pain comes not from others, but when one willingly hurts ones own self. Because it will never heal as long as you keep doing it, an endless cycle that never stops.”

Karon didn't respond, his pupils had grown until they almost swallowed his irises and his mouth opened and closed as it tried to make a sound without success.

“Now you understand pain, my sweet... and you hunger for it, don't you?”

Karon nodded and gasped for air in quick, shallow breaths.

“Then it is time you learn of the other side of pain, the other side of its nature.”

Dolor's lips pressed against Karon's, her tongue darting out through the opening and licking behind his lips as if she were tasting him. Something erupted within Karon, his blood screaming as if it were on fire the moment he could feel Dolor's lips upon his. The sensation lasted only for a second before it became too much to his frayed mind, and he fell to the floor as Dolor let go of her grip on his throat, and he blacked out.

She chuckled and licked her own lips absently, then hunched down and dragged her fingers through the unconscious trickster's hair.

“I think the lessons of pleasure will be even worse than those of pain for you, my sweet.” Her eyes flared bright for a moment, then settled as she spoke again. “But it'll be worth it, for what you'll become.”

                        ************************************************

Karon woke up covered in satin sheets, and above him was a ceiling painted black and with small pinpricks of white clustered in what appeared to be constellations. When he sat up and looked around, the sheets effortlessly slid off him, and he noticed that the many layers of dirt and waste that had covered him earlier were gone, leaving a pale, slightly ashen gray skin.

The room was not his own; instead, it was ornately furnished with dark brown walls and burgundy red drapes framing in the two large windows giving a clear view of the dark forest outside and the stars shining above it. The walls were covered with paintings familiar in both their style as well as the collective depictions of creatures in great pain.

There were several tables of sturdy-looking black wood standing against the walls, trinkets and a few books scattered across them. In the center of the room hung a chandelier with small crystals shining with white light, illuminating everything clearly.

There was also a tall mirror hanging on a wall to Karon's left, next to a brown, wooden door with a golden handle. Carefully, almost fearfully, Karon moved out of the bed and walked to the mirror. Inside the reflection, a stranger stared out with wide eyes.

His first impression was that of a starved and hungry bird. Bones jutted out from him at odd angles, his head and neck hunched over slightly like he was ready to strike forward at any moment. The dark hair clung together in a tangled mess, and the longer he looked at it, the more it seemed like ruffled feathers rather than actual hair. The mess stood in stark contrast to his angular and thin face, with the dark gray skin a matted color next to his glowing amber eyes. To finish the look were eyebrows in almost straight lines leading down towards his sharp hawk nose.

He didn't know what to make of what he saw in the mirror. It was like looking at a stranger through a doorway. No flicker of memory, or any other flash of recollection that fell as the final puzzle piece, announcing with absolute certainty, 'This is me! This is who I am'.

No, instead Karon stood silently staring at the stranger, and once he had gotten used to the image, he started noticing the little things. The uneven and torn part of his left ear visible through the feather-like hair as a messy piece of flesh. The many scars adorning his body, especially around the shoulders, as if he had been repeatedly stabbed or bitten there.

The figure in the mirror slowly dragged a finger along the scars, touching the smooth silver shapes carefully, as well as feeling the more stark lines of angry red, almost burning next to his pale grayish skin.

After a while Karon got tired of the sight, as it brought him absolutely nothing except distant echoes of pain; as if his body could remember, but his mind could not. He knew that Dolor was very specific about leaving marks on the body permanently, and she always healed what she didn't think of as perfection with her potions and tinctures.

He knew the few scars she had left him with well, and looked at them proudly in the mirror. It was the other ones he couldn't place, the strange scars shaped not by the surgical skill of his mistress, but by something more savage. Instinctively, somewhere in the back of his mind where the pressure was as always trying to push free, there was something that told him that the scars were from battle.

He looked around the room again more carefully, and noticed a bundle of clothes on the bed, the red color blending in so seamlessly with the rich satin that he hadn't noticed them before now.

He walked over and picked them up, looking them over. He had only seen his mistress in black, and after a few seconds of looking it over, Karon could see plainly it wasn't made for his mistress. It was a dark robe the color of crusted blood, and Karon's mouth twitched when he realized it was one just like the robe Timor usually wore.

He threw it down on the bed, and noticed that underneath it was another bundle of clothes, all black and with a note on top. Karon reached out with his hand and picked up the note, the signs and symbols on it somehow shaping themselves into meaning, and he read it.

Here is some new clothes for you my sweet. Your old ones were ruined, and it is time you start dressing properly like one of us. You have come far, and I am very proud of you.

Karon read it again, and then a third time to be sure of what it said, then he grinned as the full meaning came to him. The clothes were similar to those of Timor, but as he looked them over he noticed the lack of anything with the flashy gold he wore, and instead there was a simple mix of dark red and complete black. Timor had just been replaced.

Karon gingerly undressed, then began to put the clothes on. The fabric was smooth yet thick, and in the back of his mind the pressure rippled slightly, and the understanding that it was made in a way to be optimal for holding enchantments came to him.

Besides the robe and the black pants, there was an even thicker pair of black pieces of cloth, together with two sets of black ropes. Karon wrapped his feet in the cloth, then twisted the rope around his calf and up to his knee several times until the cloth was securely tied around, before knotting it together on both legs and standing up from the bed.

It felt comfortable as he walked around the room, testing the feel of the clothes out. He was interrupted when the door opened and Dolor stepped inside.

She was wearing a black dress as always, but one cut short just halfway down her thighs, and a thick corset strained tightly against her chest, emphasizing her body in an obvious way when she moved into the room and walked over to Karon, a smile on her lips and joy radiating out from her eyes.

“That suits you, my sweet; in ways you have yet to understand,” she said, her voice crisp and sensual.

Karon only nodded, his confusion not even remotely close to overpowering the relief obvious as he sighed. His mistress hadn't abandoned him, it had just been another test of some kind. And whatever the purpose of it had been, he had succeeded.

“Are you ready, now, for the final part of your training?” she asked, leaning forward until their faces nearly touched.

“Y- yes, mistress,” Karon choked out, his voice raw and barely able to speak after being silent for so long.

Dolor smiled, a wicked kind of smile that Karon couldn't remember ever having seen on her before. Then her palms struck against his chest hard, sending him flying back upon the bed. From underneath it, black ropes slithered up like living snakes, wrapping themselves around his wrists and ankles, securing him firmly against the bed posts.

Karon relaxed, but couldn't quite suppress the shudder as the familiarity of being tied up right before she hurt him pressed on his mind. Echoes of screams and burning pain flickered by, and easily drowned out the pressure at the back of his skull, dryly noting that this time it wasn't the same thing that was about to occur.

Dolor paced around the bed, her eyes moving up and down Karon's newly-dressed form, wickedness and approval sparkling in her eyes.

“So close... almost there, my sweet. All we need now is a final push, a final craving...”

She went up on the bed and straddled him across the hips, pressing her chest down firmly on his. Orange eyes with angry red shot across the iris was all that filled Karon's vision, endless hunger and wickedness staring out back at him from their dark center.

Then he felt her lips upon his, her hands moving across his body with sensual strokes. A hunger rose from within Karon, one he couldn't remember but knew he had felt before. Blood flowed downward inside his body, a pleasing, tingling warmth spreading inside of him as something primal blocked out his thoughts. His body knew what to do, and it wanted no help from his now-feeble mind.

He struggled against the bindings, yanking with all his might but producing no effect other than a trickling laughter from Dolor. She moved up his body, her face stopping a mere hairbreadth above his, her eyes piercing and filled with something hungry and malicious.

“My sweet, this is a lesson in pleasure, not release,” she whispered to him, then slowly moved down his body again, her nails skillfully yanking his new robe into pieces with sharp cuts. Her warm tongue stroked his skin playfully as it ever moved downward, never once stopping for long or providing anything else but teasing licks.

Karon breathed heavily as his vision blurred, desire warping everything inside of his mind and providing nothing but a raw hunger to tear off his bindings, then rip off his mistress' dress and never once stopping until they both couldn't move.

But he couldn't, and so he was forced to struggle helplessly as the desire grew. And it was when he couldn't hold back a howling moan that Karon found a new kind of pain, and for the briefest of moments, he imagined he understood what it was his mistress wanted him to know.

And then it was lost in a haze that drowned out everything else.

                             **********************************************

Time was, as ever, seemingly irrelevant inside of the manor. And the very concept of its flow was a thing of abstract distance and no practical presence inside of Karon's life, as far as he was aware.

It was a kind of symbol, for as time passed it grew less and less important, even though Karon became more aware of it as a force as he regained his mind, surfacing from the depths his isolation had left him in. Time was a symbol, because he could remember that it once had been important, a measurement of events. A separation of where one day you were one person, and the next you had changed.

Karon remembered the feeling. After all the pain he had endured -- and learned to harness -- under his mistress' tutelage, he noticed a curious strength that felt alien, which made him suspect it had not always been there.

His time in isolation had been the final piece, and as he sat on his bed, dressed in another set of his new robes and clothing, he could look back with clarity on the events he had been put through by his mistress, and he knew what her will, the very purpose of it all had been. She had taken the sad creature he had been before, a man which Karon now only carried the name and some clouded shred of a memory of, and piece by piece stripped him of his weaknesses. She had showed him truth, and he had rejected it, because he was weak and foolish.

But Karon knew his mistress better now, knew of her love and great knowledge. She hadn't given up on him despite the fact that he'd deserved it. She had made him experience the truth through pain, and eventually all the weakness was gone, leaving only that which she could shape and make strong.

And she had. She had showed him love and brought forth the best in him. Made him forget fear and doubt, replaced those hollow parts with love and complete dedication to his mistress. She had given him more than he ever knew, and only through tricking him into thinking she had left him, isolating him and robbing him of everything, had he lost that illusion. And when she had come back for him, he had gained perspective.

He understood now. He could see.

With a frustrated scowl Karon slapped his forehead, keeping his hand there while rubbing his hair absently. He understood all of it, so what was the point of his training in pleasure?

He knew her lessons, understood the meaning behind them. She had shaped, even saved, him from whatever folly had driven him before becoming who he was now. Time was a symbol of his old self; no longer did he measure the flow of life through time, but through the will of his mistress. The memories and pressure of his old self, pressing at the back of his skull still, was something he didn't fear anymore. He didn't fear that person; he was not worthy of it.

Karon had become everything his mistress desired of her beloved servant, and he would do whatever she needed him to do without failing.

So why continue? Why did she come to him, always with that wicked smile, and bind his hands and feet before arousing him? Spending what always felt like forever bringing him to the brink of release, then abruptly leaving him to wallow in his unanswered hunger. She had tended and seen to that hunger like it was a growing flower, nourishing it constantly so it grew larger for every time she came to him, and left him unsated.

Karon could think of only two reasons for why she would do such a thing. Either it was simply a game she took pleasure herself in, and it wasn't a lesson at all, merely a thing for her amusement -- if so then he would continue gladly, and do whatever she wanted him to -- or, the more worrisome possibility, was that there was more he had yet to understand. That somehow, he hadn't seen the true meaning of it all, that there was more to his training, something that he'd missed.

Letting out a tired sigh, Karon fell back on the bed and spread his arms out wide, staring up at the roof with a thoughtful expression.

If that was the case then he would do all he could to understand the true will of his mistress, so that he could serve her to the best of his abilities, and make sure he never again had to experience the terror he had felt when he'd thought she had abandoned him.

The hunger was a thing that covered all of Karon's being. Like a spider's web, it wrapped and clung to every part of his body, mind and even spirit, burning like a sun begging to be drowned in a flood that never came.

The pressure, on the other hand, was a very small thing in comparison. Like a second heartbeat, it felt almost like it was knocking, trying to get his attention. And there, on that bed staring up at the ceiling, with an almost careless feeling of resignation, Karon finally did. He sent his consciousness into the pressure and whatever force that hid behind it.

It sucked him in almost greedily, sending him spiraling down a dark vortex. And eventually, he reached what felt like the center of absolute darkness. Then a light was born. It flickered, almost like a beating heart, but not unsteadily so.

The light shone orange, and as Karon approached it, the light flickered even more so. Small tendrils of energy stretched out from the core, wrapping themselves around Karon; and with them came a sense of understanding.

It was as if he had been falling down that vortex for as long as he could remember. All that time -- stretching back to that first muddy recollection of the all-consuming pain, and Dolor's sweet laughter -- he had been falling, he just hadn't been consciously aware of it.

Not any longer. As he stepped into the light and allowed it to embrace him completely, the energy spread out into his entire being. It enveloped his body, mind and spirit, filling it with something carrying amusement, cleverness and something even deeper Karon could not quite define. A greater truth yet to be revealed.

It was the heart of what he was, the very center of his being. And it was now the foundation that he stood on, allowing him to observe the great chasm of hunger that surrounded him, like great wounds of desperate need so thick it had grown to be a thing in and of itself. The more Karon stood in the light of his heart, the more he started to understand a pattern, a flow of growth that was taking place.

What really irked him, though, was that there were no words to describe it. The hunger was growing into his heart, yet it had nothing to do with its nature, nor was it actually a part of it. Yet, somehow, it still had grown connected to it, steadily becoming a part of his being as much as the heart itself was.

Karon had no body inside of his center, only a shapeless presence of attention; but if he had, he would have been furrowing his eyebrows deeply while stroking his chin thoughtfully.

The vision pressing itself upon his consciousness did not alarm him. There was no sensation of the hunger actually being a threat to him, not a direct one, at the least. However, the mere fact that something that was obviously not a true part of him, that something alien had grown to latch on to him not only superficially, but also in the very heart of everything he was, was enough to evoke a slight shiver in his spirit.

Deciding to ignore the great cloud of bottomless wounds, Karon instead turned back to the glowing heart. He reached out with his mind, caressing it slowly, feeling it's energy seep into his consciousness.

With the energy came distant sensations. Wicked laughter, a burning need to dance and mock. Even his love for Dolor, stronger than anything else present inside his mind, was not untouched as the energy seeped into every single particle of his self.

Panic finally made itself present, and Karon withdrew from the heart forcefully as he tried to push away the force trying to re-shape him. The energy flickered uncertainly while tendrils of orange light stretched out after him, trying to bring him back inside.

With a soundless cry of defiance Karon brought himself out of the trance, waking up on the bed with cold sweat covering him. His breath came in short and greedy gulps while his heart hammered against his chest painfully.

Karon clutched the bed to keep himself from falling over when he tried to stand, and he was forced to sit down again. He hardly noticed how he pulled the covers over himself while trying to bring his shivering body back under control.

The energy was still there, he could feel it saturating every part of himself. His mind felt like a moving maze, and the dizziness was setting in for real now.

He closed his eyes and tried to shut everything away. Soon he was slipping down into the safe and comfortable reaches of sleep, but just before he did, a voice drifted out from the back of his mind, where just minutes earlier there had been a pressure that was now absent.

“Finally! You have no idea how boring it is sitting in the background and shouting advice that actually goes unheard; I've had to throw popcorn at the screen just to entertain myself. Maybe now we can finally get some work done.”

                        *******************************************************

Karon awoke to the loud noise of his door slamming open, hitting the wall with enough force to make the chandelier above him shake with a jingling sound.

He flew out of the bed with his heart pounding, landing on his hands and knees on the floor beside his bed with wide eyes and every muscle in his body tensed. The tension melted away when he saw his mistress standing in his doorway, one hand leaning on the frame and a seductive smile on her quirked lips.

“Have you slept well, my sweet?” she asked and crossed into the room, walking over to him and extending a hand.

“Yes, mistress,” he responded and took her hand, rising to his feet.

“Good, because we are going to have a very busy day,” she purred and ran a finger over his naked chest.

Instantly desire came roaring up from inside Karon, sending heat throughout his entire body and set his heart racing even harder. By instinct he leaned town towards her pale and almost bloodless lips, just barely resisting the urge to tear off her clothes and flinging her on the bed.

“She's playing with you.”

Karon froze and furrowed his brow slightly. Had a voice just spoken in his mind, or had he imagined it?

Dolor smiled up at him with the same look of inviting sensuality, then abruptly turned and spoke in a neutral voice, dispelling all the sexual tension that had clung to her just a second ago. “But that will have to wait until later.”

Karon stumbled forward, and barely managed to recover his balance in time to avoid falling on his face. He watched with a dumbfounded look on his face as she left the room, her hips swaying with exaggerated motions.

“I like big b-”

“Silence!” Karon screamed and grabbed his head with both hands.

He had heard it clearly this time; a voice, dry and dripping with sarcasm. What was worse, he could recognize it clearly. It was his own, just different.

Dolor came storming back into the room, a look of anger and confusion on her face. At first Karon did not even register what it meant, as he had never seen her display those emotions in such a way; and then she rushed over and stopped just inches from his face, her voice dangerously low and close to a hiss.

“What did you say?”

Karon blinked, then fell to his knees and grabbed his mistress' dress with both hands.

“I-I'm sorry, mistress, I did not mean it towards you! I thought I heard something else, inside my head,” he told her, his voice full of fear.

Dolor looked down on him with uncertainty, her bright orange eyes flickering from side to side, and the red lines inside of them seemed a little stronger for a moment. Eventually, she relaxed, and her face settled back into her usual look of playful sensuality.

“It's alright, my sweet; you must still be sleepy, is all. It is so easy to make mistakes... perhaps we will save what I had planned for today for another time,” she finished with her head tilted.

Karon breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, “Whatever you decide is best, mistress; I live to serve you.”

“Yes, yes you do,” she said, stroking his cheek gently.

Karon leaned in on her hand. It was cold and dry, but still smooth. He looked his mistress deep into her eyes, and to his surprise, he caught a flicker of something, something he didn't understand.

“It's doubt.”

This time, Karon denied himself the urge to scream and claw at his head. Instead, only a twitch underneath his left eye marked the moment as anything beyond the ordinary. But it was enough for Dolor to catch. She tilted her head, and her eyes roamed over his face questioningly, then passed beyond it as she looked around him into his aura.

“You are... more difficult to read today, my sweet,” she remarked.

Karon opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. His thought shifted uncertainly, as if it was having trouble determining what the real answer to her comment was, or as if there was something more he couldn't grasp yet.

“Wait, and be patient.”

Dolor waited for him to say something, then after nearly a minute had passed she wrinkled her forehead and smacked her lips, annoyed. “It appears you are in need of more sleep, my sweet; you have been doing a lot of that lately. Perhaps you are tired after everything you have gone through, or perhaps there is something draining your energy... inside of you.”

Karon didn't know to respond to that, either, and he didn't have to. Dolor backed away from him, and spoke again, “I will leave you to recover yourself. I think the time to finish your training approaches, and you will need to be clear for that.”

Karon watched as she left him once more, this time without any voice speaking inside of his mind, then sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples with a sigh.

Too much, all at once. His mind was spinning, but somewhere deep inside where his consciousness could not reach. He could still feel that orange energy of his being's heart, now unleashed and bathing every part of him in its light.

And then there was that voice, the dry voice sounding so much like his own. Had he gone mad? Had his mistress overestimated him in his training? Maybe his love for her hadn't been enough to keep him sane.

“Nah, you've been close to insanity many times lately, but you're not there quite yet.”

Karon jerked up to his feet and looked around the room, knowing already full well that the voice wasn't physical.

“No, of course I'm here physically, can't you see me—over there! I'm hiding under the table...”

Karon growled and slapped himself hard, the sharp sting no more noticeable than any other sensation after his conditioning.

“That's not really a good thing. We got hit on the head more than enough back when it still gave 'ouchie' signals from it. We're looking at a long and arduous journey into brain damage from here, culminating in a lot of drooling and wearing adult diapers.”

“Who are you?” Karon asked mentally, trying to track whatever line of energy the mystical entity must have used to connect to his mind.

“Oh come on, stop denying what is really going on here. I thought you were going to get over that after all of this.”

“Who. Are. You!?”

“I'm you, kinda... It's complicated.”

“Explain then, slowly.”

“Uhh, no.”

“Explain yourself now!”

“No, definitely not. You are more than a little out of touch with yourself at the moment, and I don't want to push you any further than needed. If you slip down into real madness -- and trust me, we've been awfully close many times lately -- then I am along for the ride. I'm sitting on the answers, most of them, anyway, and we will be going through them one at a time, when you are ready.”

“If you truly are me, then why are you working against me?” Karon asked, then looked down on the floor with disgust at the sheer idiocy of what he had just asked. No life should have to be this complicated.

“Because you are not yourself at the moment, that much Promise managed to get right. You're like a clean slate, a child. Sure you've gotten far since the procedural memories remain intact, and our abilities and state of being remain at the same level as when we got captured. Actually, to be honest it has taken a kind of interesting form of development; a little crooked, but still a development.”

“You're not making sense, I know who I am.”

“No. You are a child. Dolor turned you into a child, so she could raise you into what she wanted.”

“Be very careful; I will not let you insult mistress.”

Karon got the sense of someone sighing deeply, then something squirmed inside of his mind, begging for attention. Tentatively, Karon reached out with his senses towards it. What answered him was not some overwhelming force ripping his consciousness from him and flinging it into another vision, which was what he had expected.

Instead, it was a soft, simple sensation rising like smoke, filling his mind with an image. It was two, unnaturally huge blue eyes staring deeply into his own. They were filled with hope, admiration and trust, even love.

Instantly, Karon felt a connection towards whoever the eyes belonged to. He had never seen anyone look at him like that, as far as he could remember, but what he saw in them was exactly what he felt in his heart whenever he looked at his mistress.

“Do you know who it was that looked at us like that?” the voice asked, this time lacking any trace of sarcasm, and instead sounded... regretful.

“No,” Karon responded honestly.

“She would be hurt hearing you say that, after all she gave up for you.”

“Who is it, then?” Karon asked out loud in an irritated voice, not liking the almost condescending tone the strange voice had taken, nor the pain that had risen deep inside his chest unbidden.

“Her name was Feather Touch, and she was a dedicated servant of yours. She not only sacrificed her life to save yours, she later sacrificed a part of her own being to remain with and watch over you. A piece, that later sacrificed itself to help you, by joining with another being, and from that union something new was born.”

“Promise,” Karon whispered, then blinked in surprise and shook his head hard.

“You remember.”

“No, I... there's something...”

“Yeah, take it easy; there's no rush. Anyway, the point I wanna make is this: Did we treat Feather well?”

“I...” The question echoed inside Karon's mind, and in answer to it came an almost overwhelming flood of emotions. Hate, disgust, regret, all directed at himself for what he'd done.

“No,” Karon closed his eyes and said, rubbing at his forehead as the emotions receded, leaving him slightly dizzy.

“That's right. She saw something in us I can't figure out, nor why. But whatever the answer, we failed her in the end. Several times, in fact. So, think about what lesson that little memory contains, the next time you look at Dolor the way Feather looked at us.”

“Don't try and turn me against my mistress,” Karon growled.

“Fine, how about this Mr. Whippedy-whipped: You want to serve Dolor as best you can, correct?”

“Yes,” Karon replied.

“Then wouldn't it be best to become all that you are, embrace your past and all the power and knowledge that brings so that you might become the best you can be, the best servant you can be?”

“You will try and trick me, turn me against my mistress.”

“I am you. Ultimately, you are the decision maker. I have no power to control our actions, I can only influence.”

Karon scratched his chin absently while considering what the voice had said. He could sense no deceit behind the voice, and even though it would be a simple thing to disguise a telepathic presence as something else, Karon felt certain for some reason that he would have been able to sense that. And the voice wasn't alien, it felt like it was rising from an actual part of Karon, somewhere down in his mind, deep down.

After several minutes of deliberation, while the presence of the voice waited patiently, Karon spoke, his own voice betraying his uncertainty. “Fine, I will listen and see what you have to show me. But I will obey mistress in all things.”

“Good. But, unfortunately I can't really start dropping memories and information down on you while you're like this. Besides, I think I know what Dolor is planning, and you are gonna need complete focus if we are to... remain what we are.”

“What we are? What do you mean?” Karon asked, but received no response. The presence of the voice had faded, and left only questions in its wake.

Karon started to pace the room, going over all the voice had said to him, and trying to figure out if all of it was just another test. Maybe his mistress had concocted a new game, or was there more to it? Then again, perhaps the voice was honest, and was only a part of himself, wanting to guide him to his full power.

Eventually, Karon stopped and turned his eyes out the windows, towards the dark forest and the shimmering stars above.

“Why can't anything ever be simple?”

                      *******************************************************

Karon held back a scream, biting his tongue hard as he forced his jaw to clench together. With a laugh Dolor sat above him, every inch of her soft pale skin, her clothes unclasped and revealing enough to not hide, but enhance her body to the point it ached in Karon just looking at her.

Once more, he had been brought to the brink of absolute ecstasy, only to have his mistress deny him. Had it not been for her magic, he would have reached it anyway, through her sheer presence alone. That was the level his desire had risen to. But she had confined him, kept even the possibility out of his reach, and condemned him to bathe in his raging hunger.

It was as if the hot breath that pushed its way out of his lungs was not air at all, but fire. His body screamed, his mind screamed. The hunger thrashed and roared inside him, commanding him, begging him, pushing with enough power to wring every ounce of control out of Karon's grip.

He pushed as hard as he could, desperately reaching for the seductress straddling his hips, but unable to break his bonds. Eventually Dolor stopped her laughter, and tilted her head while considering the man beneath her carefully.

“You seem to have lost yourself, my sweet,” she noted, a small giggle escaping her.

Karon couldn't respond, words meant nothing to him. Too long denied, too long starved.

“If I take your bindings off, if I release you, will you take me then, finally?” she purred.

Karon groaned and yanked with his arms and legs, to no avail.

“Even if I order you not to? What will you do if I order you to stand still, not move an inch as I do whatever I please with you? Even if that is nothing?”

Karon did not respond with anything else but a moan, the hunger blotting out all other thoughts. Dolor straightened herself, then snapped her fingers, and the bonds undid themselves around Karon. Immediately his hands rushed up towards her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arms and flinging her down beneath him.

He did not get further, for a pulse struck out from Dolor and hit him in the chest, sending him flying into the wall. The impact was hard enough to knock the air out of Karon, and small pinpricks of light danced within his vision as he gasped for air.

“You disobeyed me, my sweet... it seems your hunger has finally become a living thing of its own. Time to finish all of this.”

Karon didn't respond, he couldn't. Slowly sense was starting to return to him, and with it the horrifying realization of what he had just done.

“Mistress, I'm sorry,” he forced out in a whimper, his face even more pale than usual.

“It is alright, my sweet; I have been grooming you for this moment.”

Karon looked up at her questioningly, his breath slowly returning to him, and after a short while he managed to stand up.

“What do you mean, mistress?” he asked.

“I will show you,” she said and twirled around, almost dancing out of the room with giddy steps.

Karon followed her while rubbing at the back of his head where he had struck the wall.

“I think I know what this is leading up to,” the voice noted dryly.

Karon jerked his head and stopped, then quickly resumed his pace behind his mistress. The voice had not spoken now for what must have been at least a week, other than to drop some nonsensical comment every now and then in what Karon suspected was some form of humor.

“I was starting to wonder if you were just a dream, after all; mistress said you probably were when I told her about you.”

“It was better I kept my presence minimal while she was... paying attention to you so closely. Besides, you didn't catch that flash of fear in her eyes when you mentioned my existence.”

“Don't insult mistress! She doesn't fear anything!”

“She fears losing you.”

Karon nearly stumbled when the voice said that, and he couldn't quite suppress a smile, nor the heat flushing his cheeks in what he assumed must have been a blush.

“You think so?”

“Oh please stop, you're gonna make me vomit. Now focus, because what is about to happen in the next few minutes are going to be very important.”

“What is going to happen? Do you know where we are going?”

“No, but I suspect what we are heading towards.”

“What is that?”

“A hungry existence.”

The voice disappeared after that once more, its presence absent in the way Karon knew signaled its withdrawal from his consciousness. He continued following his mistress, pondering what the voice could mean as he went. They had walked down to the ground floor, continuing past the entrance and down the corridor, eventually arriving at the grand room where Timor was lounging in one of the couches, and Maeror was sitting in his usual seat in a corner with a book in his lap.

His mistress paid them no attention, and instead continued further inside, opening a gray metal door that Karon knew lead down to the dungeons, one of which he'd been staying in when he first began his mistress' training.

They arrived at that same cell, and Karon swallowed the knot in his throat. Surely she didn't mean to send him back there? If so, it would mean she was finished with him, or had to start over. But she had said it was time to finish his training.

Dolor opened the door, and as she entered a single blue crystal, halfway shoved into the roof above started to shine. Karon had never seen the crystal before, but his attention was immediately drawn to the figure chained to the wall.

It was bi-pedal, with two arms and two legs, but that was where the similarities ended. The creature had a long snout, and two tiny black eyes that looked faceted from the way the light shone down upon them. A short and shaggy fur covered it from head to toe, and both hands and legs ended in padded claws, longer than Karon somehow knew was usual, but still far from being fingers.

It was wearing some short of short tunic, white with patterns of green and indigo crisscrossing over the chest. As soon as Dolor entered, it started chirping in a strange way, and it was only after a few seconds that Karon realized that the weird rhythm it followed wasn't just sounds; it was a language. It was trying to say something.

“Here is your final test, my sweet,” Dolor said and motioned towards the chained creature.

“Careful.”

“What do you wish of me, mistress?” Karon asked.

Dolor leaned in close, the red streaks in her eyes shining stronger than he had ever seen.

“I want you to eat him,” Dolor whispered, her smile huge and hungry.

Karon frowned, then looked at the creature, then turned to the racks of sharp instruments of torture hanging on the walls. He took one step towards them, then Dolor grabbed his arm.

“No, my sweet, not like that. I want you to eat... all of him.”

“All?” Karon asked with a confused look.

“His life, his spirit, his mind... his soul,” she said to him.

Karon did not know if the creature could understand them, or if it was just making assumption from their tone and body language, but it started trashing hard against its chains.

“How?” Karon asked.

“It is easy, my sweet; you have been training for this for nearly eight months now,” Dolor whispered in his ear.

“Do not do it.”

“What!?”

“Fail; if you do this, we will be cursed. We will live a life far more pained than anything we have been forced to endure before.”

“I will not fail mistress!”

“If you do this, you will fail yourself.”

“Tell me how?” Karon whispered, shaking his head to get rid of the voice.

“Just remember, and feel. Remember the pain, how you longed for it to end, and then how you longed for it to never end. Feel it, search the deepest part of yourself, at your core,” she whispered.

Inside of Karon, he became aware of a wound. A gnarled, ghastly thing of twisting hunger, hanging above the amber light of his being's heart.

“Remember how it felt to stand on the mountain, and look down on the strange land. Watching the movement, the life of the creatures down there. Feel how you longed to reach out to them. Then remember how you longed for me to reach out to you, when you believed I had abandoned you, how you yearned for me. Feel it.”

More wounds twisted to the words, wailing in soundless hunger, screaming to be fed and ravage everything.

“Remember the emptiness, the lack of everything as hope slipped away, and all that remained was your pain, your own pain.”

Karon fell down on his knees, clutching at his heart, trying to reach into his true heart as it found itself surrounded by holes, empty spaces inside his very being.

“Then remember as I took you back, and showed you pleasure. Feel the hunger, as I raised you up, further without ever letting you go, without ever letting you feel release. Always there was more, without end. Remember, and feel.”

Karon couldn't control it, couldn't suppress it. The wounds wailed louder than anything, not with sound but with hunger. Yawning endlessly deep.

“Now, feel the hunger, and let it feel you!”

At that moment, Karon understood. He was the heart, the core, the very center of his being. The place were all he was came together in a weave of life. He understood, and he opened his heart. Then the hunger rushed in.

He fell down on the floor, his back arching itself far enough to almost break. He tried to scream but there was no sound that could hold what he was experiencing within it. In his heart, wounds cracked open. Putrefying, sickening wounds opening in the heart of all that he was.

It was a part of him now, the wounds, the hunger... and it could never leave.

It wanted to suck all life and light out of him, but the heart knew, Karon knew, it could devour all he was and still never be sated. Karon was not endless, he was just one life. The hunger was without end, it needed more.

What was inside was not enough; only that which was outside would do. It was endless, the universe, the life and death and energy, and the hunger felt it, and wanted it all.

Karon opened his eyes, and they fell upon the helpless creature chained to the wall.

He rose from the floor slowly. The creature had stopped moving, only staring at him with bleak horror in its eyes. It was only when Karon took his first step towards it that it started screaming, thrashing against the chains holding it back, screaming in a desperate voice.

“Spare me!” it cried.

Karon did not listen to it, only to the hunger.

“STOP!” the voice inside roared, forcing Karon to halt. “We cannot do this; it is not too late! There is always a way, as long as we do not take this final step. Don't do it!”

“So...”

“We have a choice!”

“So... hungry.”

“Don't!!”

It was a simple thing; Karon just let it happen. The hunger was a part of him, and all he needed to do was to open his heart, his wounded, screaming heart, and the hunger took over.

Nothing rushed forward towards the creature, but everything was drawn from it. It wailed one final time, as its life and mind, its heart, soul and spirit were torn away. It flowed into Karon's heart, the wounds the only path, and he felt all of it.

It was pleasure, absolute ecstasy beyond anything he had ever felt, anything it had ever been possible for him to feel. Life itself flooded into him, torn into pieces and made unsullied, filling his heart with the light of life. Energy crackled around him with loud booms of thunder, striking the walls as Dolor danced in glee, screaming and laughing.

And then, Karon could see, as the very soul of the creature was torn to pieces, and fed his hunger. Every moment the creature had ever experienced flashed before Karon's eyes. All it had ever known became him, all it had ever been or could be, became a part of Karon's heart. And with a final wrench of power, Karon's senses expanded and energy exploded within him.

A soul, a thing of eternity, immortal, and weaved from the foundation of all. He had devoured it.

Slowly, Karon focused his attention outward. And the first thing he saw, as shivers of raw pleasure ran like constant currents throughout his entire body, was Dolor's eyes looking back into his own.

“You are done, my sweet. You are now truly mine, and I will be yours... you can now have me.”

There was no thought, only action, and Karon met Dolor's lips with a hunger he now could understand perfectly. He could feel her own wounds, the gaping holes in her being. And he hungered for it, but not in the way he had hungered for the creature.

He tore off her dress, and she did the same to his robes. And together they clung to each other, lowering themselves down on the cold floor, where Karon's own blood had flowed freely countless times. And there they joined as one, their moans of pleasure echoing in the dungeon, as two sightless eyes of a now-withered corpse stared out at them, empty, of everything.

Next Chapter: Dark Roots (Part 5) Estimated time remaining: 6 Hours, 45 Minutes