Chapter One: A New Birth

That was the opening myth, the Genesis of our cosmic destinies. That was the introduction to our hierarchy and now I may begin my own tale that you know their roles and the players in this macabre play I call our existence.


I can not truly say that I remember much of what came before the Great Time Void. My mind evades such details all too effectively when I try to make sense of the blurring events. I suppose my memory was affected by those devices of the false divinity that rule us. They planned many things for us: many fiendish schemes that hopefully will never come to fruit. I was a part of this. These plans, that somehow ensnared me, were a piece of my destiny.

I do remember my soul, shrouded in a cloak as black as nightmares, when I walked through a hall. I was fresh from death, I could still feel the betrayers hands laid on my body as they pinned me. I cringed at the thoughts of the knives sinking into my mortal flesh and of the blood retreating from its veins, into the open cavity of my lungs. I relived those dreadful feelings of choking on blood and floating slowly away into a lonely darkness. You, Caliga, had taken me to the high columned hall and vanished when I shook and asked your name. You were cold then, unfriendly and angry at the world, but diligent and obedient with your orders and your job. I clung to the cold marble column in fear and my soul trembled at the eerie quality of the place. My eyes instinctively found the warm light of the chandelier, hung so close to the Corinthian capitals of the columns, and I took some miniscule comfort from this. I swallowed my doubts and traversed forward to the end of the hall. Hundreds of plastic capsules, filled with varying sleeping bodies, lined the walls of the haunting reception hall. All of them were winged as if divinity, but who would encase divine things in such an irreverent way?

I gravitated towards one body in particular, a gleaming presence in the plastic cell before me. The long brown hair of this malleable female form curled over the white wings of this pale creature like out-stretched dark tentacles, the strands gleamed gray in the subtle stakes of light from the small candles placed in sconces mounted on the wall. I stared up at the figure, my fingers pressing onto the clear walls of this winged creature’s cage. Her lids fluttered open, the long dark lashes parting to reveal eyes the like the sky just after rain, when the robin’s egg blue of the world’s ceiling is still littered with torpid platinum clouds. My body quaked at those eyes; my entirety gave way to their mystic blue.

I gazed so long at those eyes I never realized that I was staring at my own pair in the blurred reflection of the plastic walls. I rubbed my eyes, tried to dispel this strange illusion but when I drew back my hands and peered out of the capsule, I only saw the gleaming whiteness of everything as magnified by the sluggish amniotic fluid. Each object flashed as if coated with the snowy gleam that one attains after spending to long in the pool and the chlorine has affected their eyes. I pounded heavily on the hard capsule with my fists, hoping to break free from this awful prison before I suffocated. My raging fists stopped at this notion. No burning pain accompanied my lack of breath. No thudding heart worked in my excited chest, only a subtle sting traveling through my balled hands. I wanted so badly to cry then, but I transferred my feelings into another fit of raging panic. My limbs flailed against the clear tube until it broke, spilled me and the gelatinous fluid on the cold stone floor. I sputtered from my fit, my whole body twitching under the weight of it. But, a new weight also concerned me. The blessed burden of the white wings tipped my body as I tried to rise from the stone beneath me and, along with the dizziness, the weight sent me back to floor. I groaned at the sore flesh that collided with the unyielding ground and looked up to try and at least give myself some sort of comfort.

My gaze fell upon the fair form of the golden son, Son Enlik. I squinted up at him, overwhelmed by his ethereal appearance, his dazzling glorified form approaching in a golden radiance. He knelt beside me and helped me into his lap. “My dear child, it seems you have been chosen to be an angel.” I felt somehow comforted just by the tone of his sedating voice and I curled into his chest. He ran his warm tanned fingers through my hair to comfort me and I saw his fingers entangled in it but, to my shock, it was as white as the stockings I used to wear, not at all brown or gray. “But, not just any angel. You are Time. This is good. I feared that a new one would never be born.” I stared up at him, felt his warm presence creep over me, and my shock fled like a criminal in the night.

I floated in a golden sea of his presence until, at the apex, a dark figure blotted out the radiance. I let my eyes focus on the figure and found a pale face, with its dark eyes staring silently at me in a way that seemed to penetrate into me, seeing the shrouded soul and not the white being I now possessed. A current passed between us and I reached for him instinctively. His arms bore me from the glowing being of Son Enlik, his presence cool enough to make me sigh at the change from the warmth of the Sun. He stared at me for what seemed an eternity before he gave a remark, subtle and quiet with his rich voice. “She is not of the divine mold that we create the angels from.” He appeared to say to no one at all, but perhaps was addressing his gentle cousin in front of him.

My limbs seemed to vibrate, every cell in my body quivered from being held by his milky white arms. I heard Son Enlik speak again that rolling plane of prose the he wove so easily with his skillful voice, and it poured over me syllable by syllable. I delighted at his voice, but not so enthusiastically in the way I wanted it, merely glad to hear it again, as if he were an old friend. “It is either a small mistake, or perhaps the soul was strong enough to change her appearance. Either way, I think it is a nice change.” He laughed in his benign bubbling way that made me giggle stupidly from the bright force of it.

I was lost in a proverbial land of speculation, beaten down by a cascade of thoughts that were not mine nor any other being’s. They were simple truths that permeated my skull and filled my impressionable brain. “Volle Monde, I see you are still alive.” I gazed quietly at him, a shuddering feeling that I knew him explicitly. I knew his subtle curves and his painfully void smile. “The King of the Black Sky, Patron of Ravens, the Dark Father, are you still called these things?” That awful feeling of déjà vu continued to creep over me when I spoke. I found my voice mellow, somewhat gilded in its feminine tone in after-thought but, throughout my words I was looking into his past through the black eyes he had. Every moment passed through me as if it were my own but in a blur of realities and hatred. I felt bound to his soul now and I clutched to his form, trembling at the strange power that just strolled through me.

“She knows my given names already.” He gave a strange sort of smile; a smile that glittered and gleamed yet had no real substance. It made me shiver that a being could articulate something without feeling. “You’ve picked up your divinely-given power quickly.” He raised me to my feet and I stood for the first time on them. My body seemed light as if I was merely air and I could travel as if I were that substance. I swayed slightly from the awkward weight of the wings, but I soon gained control over myself and could stand without being hindered by the long, divine pair. He held me and stared again, his black eyes penetrating me as if I were not really there. I saw what he was thinking by gazing back into his eyes, I had truly bonded with this creature. His thoughts caressed my brain with their presence as if they were silken sheets laid slowly upon me, one by one. I shuddered at the direction of his thoughts and covered the white, trembling form of my body with my thin arms. I had not stopped to think that I was naked, neither was I cold so I would not have figured myself naked without aid of his thoughts. Why did I not notice this when I was gazing at this body in the tube? The spirit has no true need to be clothed. It is a material realm exclusive, I suppose.

Son Enlik took his mantle off his shoulders and wrapped the soft cloth around me. “There, dear. To preserve your dignity.” My gaze found him when I turned my head and I could not help but smile at the day’s better half.

“What dignity do I have?” I felt the sentences forming from my knowledge long before I intended to say them. Was this the power that my new master had mentioned? “I am a slave bred by Link and Rekt Sin for your purposes. But, who am I really Son Enlik? What is this power I possess?” I stared down at my hands. How small and delicate they are compared to my former ones, I thought as I looked down at them. But who was I then when I had those big hands?

“You are Time as I have said earlier. An angel that would make Kronos proud, if he truly existed, I’m sure. But, what shall you name her Volle Monde?” As the two debated over what my name should be, thoughts from the mists came into my head. Where is Glasge Vykt? Why do I feel as if I should be near this being? Where is she? Who is she?

I turned my face up to Son Enlik at his words then whipped my gaze to Volle Monde seeking an answer, but I did not give him the time to see my looks. “I am to be your servant?”

“ Yes, little one. You are mine.” He had such strange satisfaction at this. He smiled and let a laugh loose. He scared me with that laugh. Nothing but an empty hatred echoed in his voice when he laughed. His cold eyes pointed his fresh adoring gaze to Son Enlik and smiled to him. “Sanctia. Her name shall be Sanctia, my dear cousin.” His black eyes gave me that stare again. The answer finally came to me: obsession. He wanted to know what had happened to produce these unnerving oddities in me. But, why did he mention Aereloeser? Who or what was that? Dizziness crept over me when I sought deeper information and my surroundings blurred into colour and light.

“Sanctia is a fine name.” Son Enlik announced and a prong of his gold form hit Volle Monde’s dark shape playfully. His turned to me and he reached out, with the other long gold prong, as if I were far away or falling down. “Are you alright?” Volle Monde shape snatched me up first, however and I was in his fragrant arms again.

“Of course. I don’t think I am used to this tiny frame yet.” I answered simply, trying to avoid any suspicion or unwanted attention from Son Enlik. I felt hate from Volle Monde when ever his bright eyes found their way to me. I clung to Volle Monde and took comfort in his dull, cold arms. “Why is it you own me, Volle Monde? Where is Glasge Vykt? I should be under her now.” My body felt a strange ebbing of vitality, but I clung desperately to my knowledge, refusing to give it up. A pain shot through me in response to my resilience, a power caused my face to sting with its ferocity and no thing over-powered it. Tears clung to my lids as I refused to cry at this invisible, reprimanding force. My head resounded with echoes of its strength and my grip on the knowledge slackened. “Never mind it, Master; I forgot what I was asking.” He bent down and kissed my forehead, seeming so smooth and elegant with his false affection. I often hated him for that: how pretentious my beloved Volle Monde could be. I do not think that the man had one ounce of feeling in him except for hatred, even if it appeared he loved Son Enlik. He was jealous of him, no more complicated or redeeming than that.

“Quite alright. Let us get you settled, though.” He wrapped his dull arm around my shoulder and led me away from Son Enlik. His cold body urged me forward across the hall, passing the towering columns. Everything in that place lacked life, the vital colour that could make it, in the least, less menacing to fledglings such as I was then. “You will sleep in the castle for tonight. I shall send Caliga to give you the details of this life you will be living. He will be a partner of sorts and he will watch over you.” He regained his aloof presence as he scanned the oncoming hallway for what he sought.

“He is the man that first brought me here.” I spoke up finally. I have to admit I was afraid of Volle Monde. I felt great anger in him; I felt consuming anger in him. It lay just beneath the surface, as if I could scratch his skin and it would bubble through with his blood. Not a thing in his mind, save for Son Enlik, was owned by his hatred. He hated without thought or reason, only that it was not his to stretch his hand over. How could someone be so far gone that the only thing inside him was hate? He is a sweet shell with the once tender filling gone sour. I was unsure about following him and panic took me. I wanted to run: to run far away, but he held me next to him and laughed.

I shuddered as he pulled me unbearably close, his arms so strong and easy to get lost in. He bent his long neck to press his cold cheek to mine. I shook at the wet presence of his lips near my ear and the delicate perfume of oleander invaded my lungs with his closeness, it pounded out every thought but that under-lying fear in my weakening limbs. “Yes, he did bring you here. But, my dear Sanctia, he is no man. He is a demon, our second highest demon and he resides under my control.” As he spoke, the fear over came me again and I actually writhed in his grip. I twisted under the mortal pressure of his lust for power: his unbearable presence of cold and calculated blasphemy of his high, honored position. He stared down at me with those cool, mechanical eyes and I screamed. “Sanctia, control yourself. You are acting like a child.” I screamed louder and louder, falling into conniptions in his arms. It came to me in small clips: the elegant sword and the cold floor beneath me that was slowly drowned out by the warm and wet presence of my own blood. But, this was not me. No, this was someone different. This was some other being, wrongfully murdered in the same betrayal that I was. This being was murdered in cold blood.

“Let go of me Volle Monde! Help! Help!” I wept, my limbs weakened further in his cold arms, but I still screamed with boisterous energy. “Murderer! You murderer! Let me go!” He pushed me away with a vicious strength when I accused him. I fell to the ground and scampered across the floor, my new skin slid with a painful screech across the marble. I backed up against a wall, my hair as wild as my expression and the golden cloth sagged around my shoulders, dismantled from my powerful and blind fear.

“What did you say to me?” He raised his hand to strike me and I cringed; drew into myself in fear and panic. That attack never came. I trembled severely but summoned the courage to look up. I slowly opened one eye and when what I found in front of me caught me by surprise, I opened the other.

A strange man held Volle Monde’s raised arm in his paint-covered fingers. Volle Monde seemed only more infuriated by this stranger’s presence. “Destroy not what one seeks to control; violence makes a harsh and stubborn foal.” I watched the thin man give a smile: he was as daft as Volle Monde, but he seemed to inspire me as if he were painted martyr whose face was a picture of calm as he awaited death. His mismatched eyes stared into mine and I smiled, even giggled at the images he stimulated in my brain. He calmed me with these whimsical scenes he produced for me. How I wish I could thank him now for every tiny thing he did for me. “Encourage her with sweet things; all women like sweet things. Like kisses and flowers.” He let go of Volle Monde who had all but smoldered in the stranger’s grip.

“If I wanted your opinion Rekt Sin I would have asked for it, you second-rate god.” I watched Volle Monde come near me and lift me into his arms.

“No, I want to stay with him. Just for a while, Master.” I spoke up and knew my voice sounded like a patient who has been injected with large amounts of morphine to stop pain; my words slurred with my deeply calm state.

His anger ran deeper than I thought. I saw it then when I looked in his eyes and I shuddered under the fire they held. But, again, no beating came, just his rich, steely laugh. His laugh chilled me because it reminded me so of the sound of droning machines in a factory made of metal. He was a machine; always calculating, thinking, working through the out comes for what was more efficient and better served his purposes. “You may stay with this clown until it is my turn to rule the sky, then I will come for you and you will obey.” He turned sharply and walked down the corridor, but after a few steps he turned back and stared at me with those horribly black eyes. “You have but to love me, my dear Sanctia. Do this and you shall never experience pain by me or any other.” The power in his eyes made me quiver. But, oh! How that frightening power enhanced his power over me. I fell deep into his spell and found myself smiling at him against my will.

“Master, I do love you. I am sorry to have acted so childishly under your benevolent care.” Lies, that his glamour produced, bubbled from my mouth like the laughter of a careless child. It was a lie without effort or thought and it scared me that he could produce such a thing in me. I did not want to be so easily manipulated by anyone, especially by one so treacherous and dangerous as Volle Monde. How could people be so fooled by him?

“Good. Your apology is accepted, child.” He whirled about in his satisfaction and left me in the company of the calico-haired man as if I were not even in the most remote part of his mind, as easy to forget as a speck of dust on his lapels.

The tall man stared at me for quite a while and finally decided to draw near. “He is an ass, darling. Stubborn and foolish as one, no doubt about that.” He caught his fingers in my hair and examined the fine white strands. “Hmm. You are definitely not of my sister’s or my design. Did you change your body, child?”

I turned to him, feeling weak and helpless from the words and power of my master, but managed a kind expression for him. Kindness was all I could manage; enthusiasm for life was thin as aging cloth on my soul to me at that moment. “I do not know how I changed, Rekt Sin. My soul did it, I suppose. I remember my body having brownish hair when I saw it in the tube.” No amount of courage or evil influence could push me to lie to this man in front of me. I do not think it would matter anyway, I think he could see what was inside my mind, just as I could read Volle Monde’s. He knew already who I am and what this power is inside of me. He knew these things because it was by his meticulous hands that I my form and purpose were birthed into being; every fiber stretched out by his needle, every feature laid out by his brushes lead by his masterful hands.

He gave a silent nod and wrapped his dirty fingers around my arm and tugged me along like a child’s rag doll. I stumbled and dizzied at the more than moderate pace he set, but he never let me fall. “Pretty colours for a pretty gal. Dignity and modesty are top notch in a good lady.” He rambled to me and I cocked my head to the side in curiosity but I let him lead me into a room filled with half-finished paintings and parchment strewn across the floor in innumerable amount. I stared at the paintings while he went to the adjoining room and rummaged for something no doubt. Something akin to an icon caught my eye and I let my mouth gape. A woman sat in a high backed chair, staring blindly off into space, and the tall form of Son Enlik leaned over her, one arm draped around her shoulder and the other hand gripped her thin wrist. He nuzzled into her without care or thought, just a gentle affection and devotion investing itself in his very presence. Such infinite care put into the solemn faces of the golden mother, Lik Tamir and her golden son, Son Enlik. The massive golden glory crowning their heads seemed only to add to the sacred aspects of this picture. Their faces, filled with light, stared out from their frames of thick yellow hair at me and demanded my attention with their fiery eyes. The pair’s bodies almost moved, breathed subtly within the painted world yet it seemed to fanciful to be true, too perfect in their togetherness and loving composition to truly exist in this massive marble-encased world.

I fell backward on the plush, red cushions of a long sofa to keep my gaze from the glowing yellow portrait of the family of light. The gold mantle slid over me pleasantly, the soft cloth bunching around my white legs. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, enjoying the simple wonders of a soft place to lie. I began to drift off, my limbs humming with that pause before sleep comes. My rest was interrupted when he tapped me and I raised my eye lids to see his form laden with piles of white and blue cloth. “I found something for you. I think you’ll like it.” He stood me up and pulled the golden shroud off me. He began to dress me as if I were a child, not giving me the chance to put on my own unmentionables. “I like dressing our angels, and you’re such a small one. It’s like dressing a doll.” He pulled the white petticoats over my hips and fastened it tightly around my waist. His skillful hands laced the corset up with a deft speed that left me breathless for a moment. I sighed and he stared up at me from his calm position on his knees. It was the way he looked at me, as if he was staring back at a sculpture of his own design. He gazed at me thoughtfully, the stockings dripping from his hands with his momentary pause. Fathoming anything about what this man thought was impossible, but I saw his care and his gentleness and knew his thoughts to be, at least, innocent. I lifted one foot for him and he took it into his colour-riddled hands and rolled the stocking up my white leg. He repeated this silent action with the other leg and stood back. His boney fingers clasped the small garters onto the tops of the stockings and I began to feel like a small doll under his care.

“Why can I not dress myself?” I asked as I looked up at him, a soft intonation of curiosity in my thoughts.

“I told you already, little Sanctia.” He told me as he fitted the royal blue Mary Jane’s to my small feet. “I like dressing our angels. Please, do not deny me the joy of creating.” He smiled and went to the last bit of clothes left. His emaciated arms scooped the blue item up and slid it onto my arms. He commenced work again with the same magnificent speed he displayed before: laced up the back—careful to avoid the long wings—, hooked all of the ribbons onto the small pearl buttons on the from and pulled my hair out from inside the dress in a flurry of white, cloudy strands. He smoothed the short blue skirt of the dress over the knee-length petticoats and smiled with an artist’s pleasure in his gaunt face.

I stared at his grinning form with a questioning in my mind but did not raise the thoughts into being. “My deepest apologies, Rekt Sin. I did not mean to stand between you and your creations.” I knew myself to huff at this point. A gentle anger birthed itself in my mind from his tender plea, but—with his calm smile—I could not deny him any sort of acceptance.

“Thank you. I would die if you did.” He kissed my hand before slipping on the small lace gloves and my cheeks adorned themselves with an unaccustomed pink from his actions. I found myself speechless and helpless under his quirky charm, but I did not mind it that much. His caring attention gave me incentive to enjoy myself while I was in his presence: to forget all troubles of Volle Monde when staring into Rekt Sin’s eyes.

“Then never again shall I deny you this.” I pulled away, surprised at my words and hid my rouging face under the small gloved hands. His pale laugh caressed my face with his warm breath as a pleasant accessory to it.

“It is good to hear that from you child.” I quivered next to him, feeling a warmth in my body that I never recalled being in me before. I felt…safe. “I will call on you then, child, when my creativity has run wild.” He laughed again and I was caught up in it, swept away by its foamy force. I only nodded at him when he smiled to me. My a small ache swelled in chest over and over again until I realized I had not blinked in a number of minutes and his fingers had already found their way into my hair. He braided my white hair with the same deft speed that he laced me up and I was blushing again. How embarrassing it was to be treated like a child, but it was also surreal and wonderful to have someone to watch out for me.

“Would you be so kind as to help me with my paintings before you leave?” He asked me kindly, so casually affectionate that gave him my nod before I could even think it over.

“I would be glad to, Rekt Sin.” I smiled up to him, my fingers entwining with his now empty ones and I gestured for him to lead me, to guide me with his expert hands.

“Do you like my paintings, Miss Sanctia?” He never came near me in that horrid and uncomfortable way Volle Monde did. I felt only a surge of joy in the undercurrent of my thoughts when he touched me. His fingers wrapped delicately around my shoulder and he squeezed me to him briefly in a hopeful, friendly way.

We stopped in front of that iconic portrait of the Golden Family and my breath was taken away by it again. I could not tear my eyes away when I answered him. “It’s so beautiful. So filled with life and breath that I am ensnared by it.” I leaned into him, letting his chest cradle my head while I stared at it. I did not mind being treated like a child by him. He gave that strange protective love so easily with his creations, so easily with me.

His laugh echoed under me in his thin chest. “I am very glad you are so taken by it.” His voice filled with appreciation and I smiled brightly with the thought I could fill him with this emotion. I reluctantly turned my gaze to meet his to pose a question, but never birthed it from my lips. He felt under appreciated by his fellow lieutenants, especially Volle Monde. “I don’t really make the works for myself. I want to bring thought and meaning to people with my work. They want for a reason in life, yet…refuse to reach for it. So, I provide one for them through the brushes and pens of thousands.” He smiled in that irresistibly hopeful way and he laughed. Tears came to his eyes when he tried to be joyous, their salty presence making his tanned cheeks red where the blotches of dried paint washed away.

My heart sank slowly in my chest and created a cold chasm that spread outward with the impression of the things he felt that ran through me as the driving wedge. Events, things said, and horrors committed all ran their course through me and I clutched my head in frustration. The cacophony rose to an overwhelming crescendo. It burned out every other thought I could possibly have with its ravenous fire of a presence in my corruptible mind. “Stop. Please, stop.” I curled up in his arms and crushed him to me, but this seemed only to fan those all-consuming flames. I choked on the heated air filling me with his pain yet I held on until the last possible moment. I threw him from me, when I could bear it no more, and I stumbled backward. I hit the wall and I slid down. My body trembled so fiercely that it forced tears from my eyes.

He came to me, but I shied from his touched. His life was too long and his timeline was killing me. My fingernails dug deep into the flesh by my ears when my hands flew to them again. “ Sanctia?” His soft, kind voice turned to shards of glass in my hearing and I screamed in want of his cessation of speaking. “ Sanctia?” My name reverberated from his lips as the last scenes past through my head.

I shivered and fell limp against the wall finally after all the horrifying movie had finished. I could not draw the strength to move. I was in pain from his pain. I coughed as if I could dispel the mind-numbing fire coursing through me. Rekt Sin leaned over me and scooped me up in his quiet manner. I felt his sadness in my mind as keen as I could see it on his face. “I’m alright. I just can’t control this new power. I can feel your timeline. It makes me sad.” My sentences sounded so strange to me for a while, as if they were something in between sentences and mere words. I stared up at him confused and light-headed from my mental pursuits.

“ I’m sorry. I wish I could help with that, Sanctia. My sister might be able to help you with that.” He paused in his thought and mulled things over in his head. He looked down at me with a faint smile on his face. “ Do you have a partner yet?”

I strained to keep my head clear from all the information that had scorched its way through the delicate canals of my brain. “ Yes, his name is Caliga and he is a demon. He is…Death?” Understanding escaped me once more. How could anyone be Death? So many strange things happened that day, I excepted it rather quickly when my frightening power brought the information to me.

“ Yes, the man is Death. He’s Volle Monde’s best servant. He is silent and obedient.” Rekt Sin sighed and slumped into the couch, his arms wrapped tighter around me with his slight distress. “ Volle Monde is a bad man, Sanctia. Don’t trust him no matter what. I know that Caliga is a good man, despite his silence. Put your faith in him, if anyone.” He smiled to me and I nodded numbly in response. Of course, I would do anything for this man. He was willing to help me and he placed no stagnant fear in my heart.

I gave him a childish smile, the kind of smile where all the trust, hope and wonder is focused in the eyes and stretched out in the lips. “ I will do as you say, but if my faith falters in him, then it shall surely be found in you.” I embraced him back now, warm and confident with my thin arms. I was connected to him by the bond of the adoration the artist has for a creation. He was proud of me but I could not really understand that. What had I done for him to be proud of?

He let go of me and started picking up the scattered papers on the ground. “ You are nothing like the former Time. He had none of these visions. He did not scare Volle Monde the way you did out in the hall.” He lost himself in his thoughts and I found it useless to try and conjure some meaning from him. I resigned myself to aiding the organization of the papers and paintings. It was a strange feeling…his silence. One could go mad in the wake of his silence.

He turned to me at last when all of the papers were in order and he had nothing left to pick up. He smiled again to me, his beguiling eyes filled with a strange and wondrous curiosity. “ Rekt Sin…why is there no Glasge Vykt?” The moment I asked him, I felt a sting in my head. The power, that had interrupted my pursuits, pushed deep into my brain. It electrified my nerves so that no thought could be conjured besides that pain. My knees gave way and a fell to the ground, the cold ground somehow comforting to me.

Some where in the distance, I heard a voice call my name. The voice was muddled as if it rose from my memories, reaching across a the plains of my mind to try and wake me from a dream. What was blocking me from all this? What was making me feel like this? How dizzy and confused I was, like I was Dorothy caught up in that huge tornado in that fable about Oz. Only, I never woke up to some beautiful place of light and colour. I woke up to darkness, the realm of our master’s father.