Author's Note: From this point forward, the story will be told in Yami's perspective, just to add to the description and suspense. His feelings are crucial to the story at this moment. And the things in italics in this chapter and others afterward are Yami's thoughts. I suggest you pay attention to some of the things he says later. It'll help understand some of the plot twists and stuff, if I can make the words cooperate. '

I…I really don't remember much. It feels as if my mind has been probed and all of the important events were erased from my mind. I'm forgetting so much. I can barely remember my own name. Seyumi. I'm a god…I think. But by no means am I a god that protects people, no. I killed them alongside my…Master.

If I had a chance to go back to the very beginning…I would have done things differently. The conflict is, however, I don't know how I could have possibly prevented all of this. I guess it was inevitable, the resurrection of Osiris, the death of my friends, the restoration of my life by Ra…it's all so confusing. I feel like I'm on a merry-go-round and I can't get off.

Can't someone help me?

But now that I think of it, who would want to help a damned being such as myself?

No one.

I'll just have to bear through this horror and find a solution on my own. Though it's impossible. I can already feel the madness slipping into my mind. Almost every memory I once held onto with a death grip have faded into nothing, just blackness.

Please…can't someone help me?

"Get up. Your legs aren't broken," that familiar voice hissed bad-temperedly.

A sharp, stabbing pain throbbed in my stomach. Whatever I had just done, just drank, was tearing me apart from the inside. I groaned as the pains intensified, tossing and turning on the cold, stone floor miserably. All the while, my Master (if He can truly be called such a thing) looked down at me frostily. He hadn't changed one bit over the millennia.

"Get up," He repeated, more sternly this time. "I don't see what your problem is. A few stomach pains shouldn't keep you writhing like a worm underneath my feet."

I continued to thrash about on the floor, biting back enraged screams at His callousness. "You…you did this to me," I managed to pant. "I'll…I'll…"

Osiris shook a finger at me with a smug smirk on His perfect face. "Ah ah. You mustn't speak that way to your Master. It's disrespectful, not to mention rude!" On the word "rude", He lodged his foot in my chest painfully. I felt a few ribs crack under the pressure, though He was applying very little force. I choked, vermilion blood gushing out of my mouth. It left little red splattered dots on my bare chest.

You wicked son of a…

Osiris knelt by my side and held me down with a single, all-mighty hand. "You shan't be let up until you learn to respect your creator," He said. With His other hand, He wiped off a bit of the blood on my chin and licked it off of His finger. With a snarl, I sat up and sunk my fangs as deeply as I possibly could in my state into His left shoulder in an attempt to free myself. He merely sat there, smiling with evil pleasure, as the addictiveness of His godly blood kicked in. His hand left my chest, allowing me to drink to my pleasure.

And I did. Again.

My fingers, now resting on His chiseled back, clutched at his pale skin tightly. My nails dug into His flesh just a bit, but no blood was drawn. Gods only bleed when they wish blood to flow. And it was flowing from His shoulder, where my fangs were still embedded, in great amounts. I closed my eyes, letting the bliss flow over me like a flood, and sucked on the wound. Immediately I was rewarded with the taste of coppery nectar, sweeter than the blood of any human child. I bit in deeper and dug my fingers into His flesh even more.

Delicious.

Wait…what…

"Yes, my child. Feed and all of your worries will vanish."

…this…this isn't right…it'll make my mind fade faster…it's already happening. I HAVE TO STOP NOW!

I let go, pushing myself away from Him. I looked at His shoulder wound with awe. I couldn't believe that I, the one who had vowed to never bow to Him again, was so passionate about his blood. The wound I had left was deep and covered His entire left shoulder. It looked as if someone had put that portion of His body in a miniature meat grinder used for torture purposes, to make a long description short. I reached a hand up and touched my lips. They were absolutely covered in his blood. I felt a sudden fear overcome me. I curled myself in to a fetal position with my hands covering my head and tried to keep myself from completely driving myself insane with the thoughts of His addictive blood.

"For someone who claims to have broken all ties with me," Osiris said smugly, "you fed excellently. Tell me, how do you feel?"

I watched His shoulder regenerate every bit of lost tissue instantly. After the entire wound was sealed, there was no sign that I ever left a mark on His unflawed flesh.

"Horrible," I said. "Horrible!"

How could I succumb to such an urge? It's sickening. His blood is, even as I think of these things, attaching to my own, twisting me into a being in His own image. I can feel it.

Soon…I'll be nothing. The darkness is developing at a mad rate inside of me. I'm afraid. I…want…

…to see bloodshed. To see blood spilled over a marble altar whilst I thank the gods for this red blessing. For this red feast. I want to feel flesh slip down my throat. I want to taste copper on my tongue. I want to hold a human heart in my hand and watch it die.

I can't lie to myself.

I've become twisted.

I want this darkness.