XIV
He awoke to darkness. Something was… missing. Gone. Emptiness. A hole. An agony worse than all the torments inflicted on him previously. A sense of loss more painful than any other. A… deadening. He felt cold, so cold. He tried to hold on to the memory of life before, but it was fading. This agony so dull was nothing like the searing hurt. The masked one hadn't lied… the pain was only passing. This…
Slowly, he picked himself up. His rasping breath sounded strange to his own ears. Where was he? Abandoned, left in the jar, the dead surrounding him, each jar holding a thief, a victim. His captor was the true thief.
Everything felt odd, as if he needed to become used to moving again, as if what remained… was a world in grey, a world without focus, or colour. Why was he still alive? This… geas…
He reached inside for the power; he found nothing. Terror filled him. The jar should have shattered under his will alone; it remained standing. Uselessly, he beat his fists against it.
"Hello mousey-mousey," A hidden voice intoned. There was a blur, and something flashed across his vision, a darting shadow. It appeared three times around the jar. He knew its owner…
The jar shattered.