Chapter 17 - Changes in the Dark

"Where do we go from here, sire?" Issin rose from his bow and stood at the foot of the bed. "Do we continue with Gerran now that Omerta has been put in its place?"

Selphrin shifted in the bed, grimacing as he moved his injured leg. "No, General Duralt. I am suspending all military activity until my brother and the Childe are found." Selphrin noted the intense amount of sadness on Issin's face after he said this. "Fear not. I am placing you in charge of the hunt," the General's face brightened immediately, "and General Hurolt shall be accompanying you."

Issin looked a bit confused. 'But that would leave you unprotected. If you were attacked again..."

"Do not worry. I will have the troops that returned with you to protect me, and my most trusted guards to guard the tunnels. And Cloak, as well."

"Of course," Issin said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "I heard he did a fine job protecting you in the attack.'

Selphrin frowned. "Yes, I suppose he isn't really the fighting type, is he?" Sighing, he continued. "Nevertheless, you and Damien will take forty men and hunt down the three who attacked me. You'll leave tomorrow with three dogs and a satchel full of my brother's old things that may still have his scent. You are dismissed."

Issin bowed again and left the room. He found Cloak waiting outside the door. He approached Issin and said, "I wish to speak to you."

No longer in the emperor's presence, Issin reverted to his rough form of speech. "Yeah, well I don't wanna talk to you." He continue to walk down the hallway, but what Cloak said next stopped him in his tracks.

"I know that its been you."

Issin turned slowly, trying to erase the fear from his face before Cloak could see. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Strange how our resident serial killer didn't strike while you were in Omerta. Strange how the murders picked up again when you returned."

"Murders?" Issin tried his hardest to look innocent. "I didn't know there were any murders in town." Cloak simply stood there, his concealed eyes seeming to look into Issin's soul. Finally, Issin sighed and confessed. "Alright, it was me. How'd ya know?"

"Simple," Cloak said. "The body that was found in the sewers had frostbite."

Issin put his hands to his head in frustration. "So, what happens now? Blackmail? Exposure?"

"Oh, no. Not at all," Cloak said in a tone that scared Issin more than a little. "In fact, I condone what you do."

Issin raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Cloak continued. "You see, I've run across people with your form of addiction before. All I wish is to help you. I can provide you with substances that can increase the amount of pleasure you recieve from your activities threefold."

"Drugs?!"

"Hmm, yes. In a manner of speaking, I suppose. But I know how intense your cravings must be getting, and what I can give you will take some of the edge off those cravings by making each individual act much more fulfilling."

They stood in silence a moment, Cloak letting Issin make his decision. Finally, Issin made his choice. "Threefold, you say?," he said, and let himself be led to Cloak's study.

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I could have won, couldn't I?, Damien said to himself, looking over the Sword of Drakmord that he held in his right hand. If we hadn't had to retreat, I could have won, right? He'd had this internal conflict everyday since the attack, he realized. Why do I always feel so inferior, then? I know I could have won, why isn't that as good as actually winning?

He felt another part of himself speak up. You only stood a chance because he was tired. You would've been destroyed fighting that man at full strength. The reason you feel so weak is because you are, you worthless coward.

No, his inner-self said, I could have beaten him. He held up Drakmord. With this sword, I could've...

Another voice chimed in. Oh, so now you're relying on that weapon to solve all of your problems? A gift from the man you hate most? You're so pathetic you can't even rely on your own strength.

His true-self stammered and stuttered. Well, but, I...

The first voice returned. Can't even come up with an intelligent response? I didn't know you were as stupid as you were worthless.

Damien was crying now, his tears running down onto Drakmord's blade. I'm not worthless!!

Yes, you've shown that, the second voice said sarcastically. Your skills and powers haven't improved one bit in the past five years. That's one hell of a "minor rut."

Now, now, The first voice responded, the strength of his power has been adequate enough to do some things. Like kill his parents.

The tears fell in greater numbers now. Damien raised the sword and placed it on his left wrist, preparing to apply pressure.

Yeah, there's a brilliant idea, voice two said with the greatest amount of sarcasm possible. How do you know death won't just be listening to us for all of eternity?

Wouldn't that sort of defeat the purpose?

Ah, what's the point. Let him die. It's not like anyone would care.

Damien set the sword down on the bed next to him. Issin. Issin would care. He's my friend.

The first voice scoffed. He doesn't care. He sees you as a nuisance. Why would he care about someone who couldn't finish a battle as simple as the one you had?

Yes, Childe Fangora was tired. He had no power behind his attacks. He's older than you, too.

I...I was already tired when the fight started, he said, trying to reason with his hateful and cynical sides.

Yeah, one of the voices said. It must have been pretty hard fighting that one armed guy, huh?

Damien was sick of the whole conversation, and the floor under his feet was now soaked with tears. One day I'll prove to you that I can hold my own against anyone who challenges me!

And when that day comes, we'll trouble you no more. Until then, you'll always be stuck with your self-doubt, and we will continue to revel and bask in your despair.