A man in red leather, a strange symbol that resembles a skull impaled with a dagger sewn into his chest, smiles warmly at me.
"You have been chosen for a great honor, Denna."
"Who are you?"
"Your new best friend."
His tone is so pleasant and amiable that I cannot possibly doubt him…
…until I discover what this "great honor" is that I have been chosen for.
My "new best friend" pulls me roughly from my mother's arms, pressing a short red rod to my throat to silence my screams of protest.
In the next several years, that rod and I become intimately acquainted.
It strikes me across the face, reprimanding me for defying my trainer.
It brings my mother to her knees. I watch helplessly as she struggles to her feet, her eyes pleading with me to fight what I am becoming.
It is in my hand, making my father bleed and writhe in agony until I finally press it to his heart, ending his life.
The Confessor's blows cease, and I am jolted out of my memories.
The Seeker leaves with his family.
I feel a hopeless longing far more painful than the throbbing of my battered body.