p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"Possessio/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"There was something about pain that had always appealed to him. It was perhaps the only thing left that could please him. Perhaps that was why he was so possessive of his elfin captive./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"em style="max-width: 100%;"Nemo Quod Infit/em/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"Nobody but him was allowed to touch her. Nobody but him could torture her. He remembered the first time he'd attempted to break into her mind. A professional torturer had begun to beat her, and he'd taken the whip from him. He couldn't bear to see this rough bore beating such a beautiful creature. He knew that he himself would be considered a monster as a shade, but he wasn't rough. He was subtle, and subtle was what the elf needed./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"It had happened another time when his men had decided to amuse themselves with the elf. He'd almost ripped them to pieces, but instead he'd nudged their minds to make them incapable. The elf had thought she'd done it. Ah, that had been amusing. How could anyone so drugged, even one as strong as she was, make ten young, fit, and virile men incapable? It was ridiculous. But he hadn't told her that it had been him. That would have revealed his obsession with her./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"em style="max-width: 100%;"Requiro/em/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"It was a strange obsession, really. It always delighted him to attempt to break even when her resistance infuriated./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"em style="max-width: 100%;"Adversor/em/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"Her resistance. That was another strange thing. It was infuriating of course. How could it not be? But that wasn't all. Somewhere inside of him it almost pleased him. What did he want with a captive who didn't resist after all? Where was the pleasure in that?/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"But it was more than that. He couldn't bear to break her. He'd come close at times. Oh, he'd come so close. But then he'd pulled away. He couldn't break her. Not yet./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"Not yet. That was what his mind kept telling him. Don't break her just yet. Let her hold on for just a little longer./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"em style="max-width: 100%;"Nunqam Satis/em/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"He'd heard a story once about a sailor who'd found the most world's largest and most beautiful pearl growing inside of an oyster but hadn't taken it. No, the sailor had left it there. He'd wait until it was bigger he told himself. The sailor returned to the oyster every few years, and every year he left it to grow just a little more. He couldn't remember how the tale had ended. It wasn't important./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"Maybe that was why he couldn't bear to break the elf. He knew that once he broke her she'd be useless. She'd be killed. She'd be taken away from him. He wouldn't have anything to return to. There would never be another prisoner like her, of that he was sure. He'd never find one who fought so well against so much. He'd never find one so beautiful or so stubborn. He'd never find another elf. That was why he couldn't let her go./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"em style="max-width: 100%;"Indignus/em/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"But then fate had intervened and that pathetic rider had taken her away from him. The rider who hadn't been able to stand up to him. That rider who was putting up such a pitiful fight right now. It was a hundred times worse to lose his prisoner to one such as this rider—though he felt contempt to give this mere em style="max-width: 100%;"boy/em such a lofty title—than to even see her nearly raped or beaten by mere soldiers. He'd almost taken her after he'd stopped his own men. The sight of her lying there, half-naked and half-lucid had incited reactions that he'd long since thought impossible. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't taint her. He couldn't take his pearl. If he did that, then she'd mean less. She'd be less. She'd be just another prisoner, just another woman, and he couldn't bear that./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"He felt a barrage on his mind from the rider. His contorted with rage. How dare the rider look at his memories? How dare he look at Carsaib?/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"He raised his sword and smote the boy across the back. It was so easy. He was on his knees. Such a weak rider. What did the king want with him anyway? In truth, he was surprised that the egg hadn't hatched for that elf who'd carried for so long. Surely she was superior to this child./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"A sound of glass smashing, and he looked up to see the elf riding on the dragon's back, a green nimbus of power lighting up her hand as her hair flew back and the dragon breathed fire. It was a beautiful sight, really. He could almost imagine that the elf was really the rider./p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;" align="center"em style="max-width: 100%;"Satis Superque/em/p
p style="max-width: 100%; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px;"This momentary distraction was more than enough. It was more than enough to give the rider the time to run him through the heart. It was more than enough to give let him see the elf's look of triumph even as she kept the pieces of the once magnificent star rose from killing them all. It was more than enough for Durza the shade to die at the hands of Arya Dröttningu, Saphira Bjartskular, and Eragon who would now be called Shadeslayer./p