Into the Devil's Eye

by Akularz-Shati

DON'T KNOW THE LORE? NO PROBLEM! (see note in chapter 1 for details) Drukhari invade our reality and capture a young woman. She uses her vast knowledge about the Dark Eldar and her sharp mind to stay alive. Will she be interesting enough to be more than just a torture slave? It seems as if fate is smiling upon her... or is someone smiling in particular...? Image by Dmitry Brushray.

17. Chapter 17 - Progression and one Favour

Dear readers,

Yes. Finally. I know. 5 months. I am terrible.
Thank you for bearing with me and thank you for your kind words on my work. I am so happy that though I am so slow that so many people enjoy my scribblings. ;)

However, my damn muse decided it would be funny to leave me for two months and I was struggling for every damn letter I put down this time. Guess that happens when you struggle a bit with your own demons.

I originally wanted to put much more in this chapter, but considering how long I took with what I have now, and that it is already growing enormously long again (this is only half of what I planned to have originally in it), I decided to leave it be and part the original chapter 17 into two chapters.
I hope you enjoy it; I have to admit, it was really complicated putting this together, since if I make one single mistake now, I will have a hard time correcting it later and planning all those different plotlines is really hard. You should see my notebook. Looks like some Chaos cultist left his scribbles in there. *chuckles hysterically*

Also, great thanks again go to my husband, who wrote the Ailith training stuff in this chapter, and of course my wonderful proof-readers, SindelV and bigwoof, who help me along greatly!

Special thanks also go to Darth Vindictus, who was so kind to point out that time indications would be good for the readers to have a rough overview of how much time has passed. I would have completely forgotten about it and I think the way it is now, it is more understandable what is going on when. Thanks for that, mate!

Have a good one. And fun with the chapter.

Cheers, Shâtî

---

Chapter 17

Progression and one Favour

"You should be grateful. Once I remove your skin, you will feel so much cooler.
And when I am done with you, you shall serve a greater purpose."
— Urien Rakarth, Master Haemonculus

Three months ago…

PASSAGE OF TIME mattered little to him.

The point where it actually had was a distant, long-lost memory.

And why should it? His time was, in fact, unlimited. Dying was merely an alluring distraction to him by now, though regeneration could prove to be tiresome when testing and tasting some variants of death.

A shiver ran down his spines.

That last experiment with some modified, highly-volatile melta-gel had not gone too well. Recollecting his body had proven to be… bothersome. Then again, he certainly had given some Covens quite a turn with the explosion and had raised some false hopes with it.

This unfamiliar noise was truly vexing though, scratching at his thoughts.

Sighing, he parted another joint of his current subject in just one, effortless sweep, watching with a slight smile as blood, lymph and synovial fluid poured out of the fresh wound. He did not even hear the screams that followed his line of action, let alone felt bothered by the pleas that were uttered in an absolute pain-wrecked tone.

Then he realised where the noise came from.

Absentmindedly, he gestured to one of his Wracks, which cowered about in his laboratory, eager to harvest some hard-attainable knowledge from him and said, "Jehiel," at least he thought that this was the name of the Wrack he meant, it did not matter, their names did not matter, they did not matter, it was a name he remembered and someone would react to it, no matter whether it was its actual name or not, "be a good lad and get the door, will you?"

A Wrack moved and with this, the business was settled for him.

Smiling again, he neared the body of his subject with some scalpels again and sighed fondly as the blood poured from fresh wounds and left aesthetic patterns on pale skin. Yes, this was nice flesh to cut, so tender and soft… he welcomed the sound and feel of it.

Licking his chapped lips, he peeled off some skin, producing more trickles of blood and he carefully stored the patch he just had taken in some formaldehyde solution. Suddenly aware of the sobbing and whining of his subject, he said, sounding almost sullen, "Oh, you should be happy! Your skin will make for some veritably soft coverage on one of my creations."

Those fools never understood the degree of honour they were bestowed upon.

To underline his appreciation, he cut out a small string of muscle from his subject and let the still warm, bleeding thing slide into his mouth. Letting out a sound of delight, he crunched the soft flesh between his sharp teeth and he shivered as the warm blood filled his mouth, its taste as savoury as he had imagined it.

Of course, the subject did not understand one bit of it.

"M… master?" a croaking voice came from behind, ruining his moment of pleasure.

Clicking his tongue disdainfully, he wheeled around and lectured his Wrack, as he delivered a deep slash across its face, "Makvala," again, names were just smoke and mirrors, "what have I told you about interrupting my work?" His tone was soft, the one of a patient father teaching his misguided child.

The Wrack shivered visibly – this one was not ready to be anything more than a useless servant, he thought – and gave back meekly, "That… that I should leave it be. B… but, you sent me for the door and…"

No longer in the mood to listen to his quivering servant, he shoved it aside, effortlessly, and showing a strength that defied the looks of his scrawny body. The Wrack kept in the corner he had thrown it into and resorted to silent, pain-wrecked twitching.

All his thoughts of a possible, later administered punishment were swept aside as he beheld the Scourge in front of him.

He immediately recognised it as one of his works. The marks of its body, the way it was designed and the tattoo on its left upper arm were unique in this city.

He had not made many of them, his methods had been too advanced for most to stand. But this one he knew, that he was sure of…

"Name. Name, name, name, name, name…" he muttered, as if repeating the word would bring back the memories of his work on this particular subject.

With an aggravated sigh he let it be.

Smoke and mirrors.

What did a name actually mean, especially the one of such a low creature?

Still, it somehow bothered him.

Waving a scrawny arm, he cackled, "Whose tidings do you bring me?" He hoped that it was something unusual. He liked unusual. A short giggle escaped him at the thought.

The Scourge ignored his fidgeting completely, produced a small vial, presented it to him and cawed, "Master Haemonculus, it is a message from a slave of the Carnival. She requests your services."

"Oh? Is it that time already again?" he replied, scratching his head as he remembered that such a gesture was appropriate to accompany his words. Those five years had passed quickly! It was good that he was reminded of the Carnival – using it as a little side-distraction was sometimes at least… diverting.

Then, the rules of that festivity flooded his brain and he concluded, "Hmm… Do I know any slaves from the Carnival? Hmm, hmm, hmm…" Faster than lightning, he scanned his mind-palace for an appropriate answer and face.

Seconds later, a deep and evil chuckle emerged from his wispy frame and with a bass voice that mocked his former, cackling one, he leered, "Oh, duckling! I knew you would come around to play!" Switching fluently to his cackling voice again, he added, "Yes, yes, yes, of course, I was right!"

It had to be given credit to the Scourge that it did not move one inch during the whole fit he threw. However, that mattered little to him right now.

Licking his lips in a relished manner and grinning widely all over his face, showing his shark-like teeth, he unboxed the message, which had been written with a fine, young hand – his mouth watered as he caught her scent on the paper, she was so insanely sweet. His eyes flew over the message, voraciously awaiting her plea for his help… and his teeth snapped together in a flash of pure anger as he read whom the letter actually was addressed to.

Snarling, he flung the vial into the Scourge's face and boomed, "You are no longer welcome here! Leave, leave, leave, leave, LEAVE!"

The Scourge knew what was good for its hide, turned and fled the laboratory.

He hated it to be wrong! Nothing was worse than that!

Hissing, drooling and screeching, he spat unintelligible things into the aether, hacking at his Wracks, which ducked and ran if they could, redecorating his laboratory, and finally ending his fit with screaming out the source and target of his anger, "VLOKARION!"

He knew that Vlokarion did not hear him and he knew that he could not harm him. No, that would just invite… unpleasantries with Vect, as much as he hated it. Whatever he saw in that obnoxious, yet, reluctantly admitted, talented lad.

Why did Vlokarion always get the fun things to play with?

He had met the duckling only once – she was sweet, she was tender, she was savoury, she was mellow – and he had longed for sinking his instruments and teeth in her. But that one was off-limits for him, as it seemed. Vlokarion already got to play with her and for reasons unknown, Vect was very picky about her.

Jealousy.

Frowning, and suddenly very calm again, he explored the feeling. It was something new, refreshing, invigorating, rejuvenating… but why? Why did he feel that way?

He decided to nurture it, even if for a short time. Maybe he would find some way to get to play with her and keeping that feeling alive would help him to focus on that idea. Also, putting Vlokarion in his place concerning his skills always gave him a feeling of rarely-known joy, even if only it was a malicious variant of it.

He suddenly started to laugh, his cackling voice chiming eerily in the height of his laboratory.

Of course.

It was so easy.

Considering how different the duckling was from any other mon-keigh, Vlokarion would even need his help modifying her… if he, Urien Rakarth, the greatest mind the True Eldar race had ever seen, played his cards right.

Grinning widely, and gently stroking the paper, he murmured to himself, "You will stay here for a while, my dear."

Suddenly, time mattered once again for him, for the most curious of reasons.

---

Two months ago…

Archon Yevhen Nuscul sat sullenly in his throne room. Though he had been back for a week now, the last mission had been unnerving, to put it mildly, since doing it together with Sythrac, even when they came quite little in touch with each other, was always like living on knife's edge. He hated accepting a subordinate role to a raiding partner, even if it was someone as powerful as Valossian Sythrac. Though Yevhen commanded quite the prestige and respect in the Dark City and also in the Circle, it always bit him to be reminded that he was not where he could be, though his career certainly counted to the more exciting ones in this city.

Some plans were needed to change that fact.

As an Archon, and especially as one so high up in Commorrite society, it was his duty – not only that, it was suicidal not to do it – to observe his direct competitors, which were, in his case, Vyras and Ea'nash.

He knew that there was little to fear from the latter currently, as he was occupied with drooling over the fact that he might get Vect's personal slave soon for a night. No, Ea'nash was far too focused on his very specific goals to be a threat to him at this time.

However, Vyras gave him a headache, as usual. Things had become quiet around the house Vyras lately, which was never a good sign. The old snake surely was plotting something, as he always did, and finding out what it was, was, in general, highly complicated to nigh impossible.

The everlasting smile on the Archon's features deepened slightly. However, with his newest asset, this was about to become a bit easier. Though the last raid had been one painstaking nightmare, concerning his submission to Sythrac, it also had reaped some results, which he would never have gotten if he had not played nicely with the old general.

Sythrac despised Vyras like nothing else; nevertheless, in crass contrast to Ea'nash, he hid it very well. Where this disgust came from, Yevhen did not know, and at this point, he did not really care, for Sythrac had provided him, for obeying him without too much of a struggle, with some intel and insight into Vyras's demesne that was priceless for him.

Yes, knowing when to play the obedient dog had served him nicely time and again. Let the rest of his Circle colleagues think that he was weak, stupid and a bootlicker! Though he greatly minded the humiliation he subjected himself to time and again, he knew that it helped him more than it hurt him.

And, oh, his jovial demeanour aided him greatly in all this!

Though he was quite careful and had not fallen to utter hubris, he believed that most fell for his joker attitude. The best thing about it was that he did not have to play this role; it truly was his nature to go about his way with black humour and mockery of all people and things around him.

It had sustained him up to this point, and it would do so for the rest of his life.

Yevhen was interrupted in his pondering as the door to his audience chamber opened. Despite his position, his chamber was rather bland in terms of decoration and he only endured the people and things in there that were absolutely essential for a proper court of an Archon of his standing.

It was one of his most trusted servants who came in – yes, such a term existed for him, since he had seen the wisdom of not treating all his subordinates like shit, although many saw it as a weakness and he had to always be wary of people that tried to exploit said weakness. Usually, if someone tried to bribe or threaten those he trusted, he heard of it and if the subject of said bribe or threat did not come to him anyway, he heard it from other vigilant sources. Keeping such a stock of trusted servants was time- and resource-consuming, but in his opinion, it paid off.

Without any conversation or further ado, the servant came to him, dropped beside his throne to one knee and presented him with a message. He took it and gestured to his servant to leave, so he could read the message in private.

What he read, made him frown and the smile vanish from his features, which was never a good sign. He felt his coterie of Lhamaeans, sycophants and warriors subliminally duck.

Unbelievable.

He certainly had to confirm whether this information was correct.

Was Vyras really that desperate or stupid?

Staring with an earnest face into thin air for some minutes, he contemplated what benefits this could bring for him. If he managed it properly, the favour he would gain with the Overlord would certainly erase some missteps he had dared in the past and might even bring him soon further than he had expected.

The smile returned, deeper and fresher than ever.

"Dear old boy Zuol, you'll love this," he chuckled to himself.

Now he only had to convince the grumpy geezer to work with him.

---

Back to the present…

I awoke slowly and arduously. I groaned, putting my hands in front of my face, as all the memories from yesterday night flooded my brain and I felt that I immediately blushed.

Never before had I been turned into such a lowly whore.

Vect and Ea'nash were not comparable, for both invoked ecstasy in completely different manners, and I could not tell who was worse with what he did to me.

Vect was methodical and precise, absolutely immaculate in his execution of the act, knowing exactly where and how to touch me to make me go absolutely wild. Yet, he always remained aloof and in control, he never let his lust overcome him completely and everything he did followed an exact, utterly dominant plan. Sleeping with him sometimes rather felt like performing a surgery.

Ea'nash on the other hand… well. It showed that he was young. He was wild, he was passionate, he showed everything he felt and did whatever came to his mind. Curious. Experimenting. Feral. Exciting. I could not deny it. Still, the games he had played with me last night had, in a way, driven me far more insane than what my master tended to do to me in the process. Ea'nash had been in control, yes, but it had also been easily visible that his passion and ecstasy had overtaken him ever so often. Though I absolutely hated to admit it, I had enjoyed it – up to a certain point, where he just had been torturing me with pain and my own ecstasy.

I was so ashamed of what he had drawn out of me and how much I had shown him what a willing whore I was if I was teased in the right way.

Every muscle in my body hurt, even though they had been significantly hardened over the past months, and everything below my navel was just pulsing with soreness and pain. Of course, he had hurt me significantly; my body was littered with bruises, scratches, cuts and bite marks. Also, sitting would be fun for a whole while.

Finally, I took my hands off my face, yawned, and groaned as I stretched myself, since my strained muscles protested intensely against this treatment.

I froze as an unfamiliar, male voice said, "I have heard a lot about you, slave girl. Now that I see you up close for the first time, I am wondering why you are actually so famed. You are far from an impressive first sight. And yet…" I heard a deep breath being taken. "And yet, you are a true delight for my nose and palate."

Dreading who I had to deal with now, I opened my eyes and jumped as I saw that the lightly armed and in dark robes clad Dark Eldar man, whose voice I had heard, actually sat beside me on the rim of the bed. He surely was a sneaky one.

"Who are you?" I asked, still groggy from sleep. Just as the words left my mouth, I realised what kind of a stupid question that just had been. As I now had examined him for half a minute, it became apparent to me that he was the spitting image of Ea'nash – but only more burdened with wrinkles.

This had to be Adrahasis Fahrrior Ea'nash, Tahvyn Nabeh Ea'nash's father.

I swallowed inconspicuously. I had read about him in Vect's notes. He was known to be one of the most relentless around here and he still was a formidable ally of Vect. I had to be very careful with him.

I sighed. "Scratch that question. It is evident, please, forgive my stupid question, Archon."

Where the hell was his son when he was needed? He was nowhere to be found.

"Better," he said, his tone apparently dangerous. It seemed as if I barely had drawn my neck out of that noose.

"So… erm… is there anything I can do for you, Archon?" I asked carefully, since he just stared at me after that one-word-sentence.

"No, slave, I have no use for your… services," he said and I did not like what he was implying with that, while his eyes wandered over my barely-covered body. "I am still trying to figure out why Tahvyn is so besotted with you."

Besotted. Heh. That was an accurately good one, I had to remember it.

My jovial thoughts got drowned as he reached for my neck, drew me upright and close to him, our noses almost touching. I shivered on the inside as he took a deep breath, inhaling my scent once more and then started to choke me. I tried to stay as calm as possible and not put up any form of defiance, because if Adrahasis was anything like his son, he would despise that deeply and the last thing I should dare was insulting one of Vect's oldest allies.

He only let go of me as my sight grew dim.

Though I was used to this kind of treatment, it was terrifying each and every single time. As I lay on the bed on my right side, fighting for air, I dearly hoped that he would be done with me soon – I needed my strength when I got back to the Crucibael today and it would be hard enough to muster it with the injuries I had sustained from the night before.

I winced and looked at him from the corner of my eyes, still panting, as I heard him draw a dagger, saying, "Hmm, your scent and the taste of your fear are intoxicating, and you have been trained fairly well, I have to give you that, slave, but there has to be more than that to make Tahvyn so… crazed about you. Show me how delicious your screaming is!"

This situation got significantly worse by the fact that I now knew how to jump at him and that I was positive that he would neither expect nor anticipate it; Adrahasis certainly was full of himself, definitely a trait he had passed on to his son. Still, though the thought of punching him in the face was tempting, I knew it was futile – I would not be able to take him and it would only bring me more suffering. Therefore, I held myself back and watched with silent despair and cold hatred as he neared my skin with the blade.

As he was about to cut me, a side-door burst open and in rushed a furious Tahvyn Nabeh Ea'nash.

If the situation had not been so dire and his anger had not flooded the room and made my stomach turn to ice, it would have actually been quite comical. Tahvyn had rushed in, naked except a towel around his hips, a slender blade in his right hand and a Splinter pistol in his left, which he pointed at his father. His 'apparel' did not fit his facial expression or mood whatsoever, but because his feelings were so strong, it actually mattered little.

Tahvyn boomed at his father, "If you so much as scratch her with that dagger, I am going to end you!"

With a hiss, Adrahasis jumped to his feet, dagger still in hand, but it was evident that he was outmatched, at least in terms of weaponry. How formidable his combat prowess was I did not know, but I surely knew that Tahvyn was quite the tempest in battle. That Adrahasis was staring into the wrong end of a pistol certainly did not increase his chances of winning.

It was evident that the father was pissed that he had been caught and outmatched like this by his son.

Adrahasis tried to save his honour by spitting, "If you are so determined, why are we still talking?"

However, he failed, as Tahvyn growled back at him, "Because the repercussions of killing you, as much as I would love to do it, are simply not worth the trouble. Now, do yourself a favour and get out of here before I change my mind! I can assure you that She Who Thirsts awaits you happily, old man!"

With bared fangs, yet a slight shadow of fear passing over his features at his son's last words, Adrahasis turned to go, but not without hissing, "This isn't over, Tahvyn!"

Following his father with the nozzle of the pistol, Tahvyn mocked, "Yes, yes, spare me your speeches!"

With that, Adrahasis left.

Sighing and falling onto my back, heart beating and still panting, I said, "What a way to start a day!"

Tahvyn chuckled and put his weapons onto a rack. "Refreshing, isn't it?" he said, sounding quite casual.

I smiled and replied, "Not the word I would have chosen, though. Is this… normal… between the two of you?"

Tahvyn shrugged. "I guess so. If he doesn't stick his oversized nose into my business at least once a month, I would be growing suspicious anyways. Though I hate that bastard with all my heart, I guess I would be bored if he wasn't around to bother me again and again."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I can relate to pestering parents, though the annoyance I had to endure from mine was in no comparison to what I just witnessed."

He showed me a lopsided smile. "And there I thought mon-keigh families were all sunshine and rainbows."

I chuckled, "Hell, no!" I found that I actually enjoyed this casual conversation with him, though I knew it was only a matter of time until he would start creeping me out again.

With that lopsided smile still fixed onto his features, he came to me and sat down beside me, on the rim of the bed. Running his fingers gently over my throat, down between my breasts, all the way down to my bellybutton and staring me deep into the eyes, he said, "So, enjoyed last night, did we?"

And here we were again. I blushed, not able to tear away from his stare, and replied truthfully, "I guess it was evident."

He chuckled filthily at that and replied, "Yes, it was. Maybe we can arrange a repetition of that, hmm?" Tahvyn leant down to me, kissed my forehead and whispered into my ear, his voice dripping with scorn, "Don't worry, I'll keep your… interesting preferences… our little secret." The young Archon laughed at me as he saw my tormented stare, and got up, walking cat-like to the richly laid table in his quarters. As he sat down, he said to me, "Now, my dear, go take a shower, I want to have that bed made, it smells like a whorehouse in here!"

The idea that he actually did not mind that smell hit me immediately, but I was wiser than voicing it. I got up and went to the slave's bathroom, as instructed. Again, I was relieved and surprised not to find any guards out here and I also was happy that Adrahasis apparently had stormed off. The last thing I needed right now was an angry Archon, who was out for vengeance.

I enjoyed the shower, as it helped me relax and ease some of the pain. I was used to a continual throbbing in my body by now, since my training left me constantly bruised and sore, but this intercourse had surely torn me a bit more apart than usual. Now I dearly hoped that Tahvyn would honour his part of the deal, otherwise all of this had been for nothing. The only hope I had was that Vect was aware of what I had done and that he would 'scold' Tahvyn if he found him not honouring his deal with me.

I did not doubt one minute that the eyes of my master still rested upon me, but I could never be sure how much he really cared about what happened to me.

Shaking that thought off, I went back to Tahvyn's quarters.

I hated the look he sized me up with and what I hated even more was the question I now had to ask him. "My lord, may I dress?" I hated to show him how much power he currently had over me, but there was no way around it. I knew that my chances were quite slim to get that permission.

Flashing a nothing but filthy smile, he said, "As much as I enjoy what I am seeing," to emphasise his words and to humiliate me further, he looked me over once more, "I allow you to dress, since I don't want you to get cold or even sick. And then, sit down and have breakfast with me. I took the liberty of having your training suspended for today, since you need a day's time of regeneration after all that fun we had last night."

That genuinely surprised me, both that he allowed me to dress and that he additionally looked out for me. It was strange, since it was the last thing I would have expected from him. I just ignored his remarks, though, since engaging them would just encourage him to continue them. Therefore, I simply said, "Thank you, that's very generous of you, Archon."

Giving a nod and smiling, he took a sip of his cup.

I did as we discussed and I tried not to show my relief too much to be allowed to taste proper food for a change. The dishes on his table were heavenly compared to the slave food, but I could also taste that they lacked the certain, refined edge the same dishes on the Overlord's table had.

It occurred to me that Vect had apparently spoilt me. To what end, I could not say, but I felt grateful for it and again I felt that I wanted back to him.

Only as we had finished breakfast, I took the vial out of the small pouch my tunic held, placed it on the table and said, "I would like to ask you to forward this to Archon Yaelindra, as we agreed upon."

Tahvyn nodded, "Of course, my dear, I am a man of my word. Just leave it here, I will forward your message later. Some of my men will bring you back to the Crucibael, they are waiting outside. We don't want you to miss out on too much of your training."

I got up, bowed slightly and stated, "Thank you for your… hospitality, my lord, I hope we will be seeing each other again." I really did not mean that last sentence, but I had to be careful.

He chuckled and said, "I hope so too, my dear, sweet child. I would hate to see you destroyed in the Carnival."

As I turned to go and passed him, he grabbed me by my arm and drew me against him one last time, to kiss me deeply and intensely. I let it happen without resistance, as I knew he liked it and forced a smile upon my features as he was done. He slapped my buttocks lightly and said, "Now, go, or else I might change my mind!"

I nodded, bowed slightly again and then left the room, keeping myself from fleeing.

One night had been enough for the rest of my life.

As he had said, a squad of Kabalites picked me up and brought me back to the Crucibael. The journey was uneventful as ever, and it again surprised me, since Commorragh was not known for safe travel, like I had experienced it until now.

As I stepped back into my quarters in the Crucibael, I immediately went into the bath and showered a second time, to get his feel and smell off me. I felt so tainted by what he had done to me, though I knew he could have done much worse, however, he had exposed me and had found one of my sweet spots, and for that, I was extremely ashamed and it pained me even more that it had to be him who had found it. I just hoped that he would keep his word and keep it to himself.

As I came out of the bath, freshly showered, I took a look at my timetable and noticed with surprise that the last day of survival training was due for tomorrow. I had completely forgotten that it only was held for three months. After that, I would only meet up with Ailith and I did not look forward to that.

Though I still felt sore and vulnerable from the experience I had had last night, I smiled. Tomorrow I would drop my thoughts about the prize upon my dear colleagues and see how they would handle it and anticipate from it of whom I should be wary the most. I already had my ideas, considering that I had had some considerable time with all of them, but I wanted to be extra-sure. Of course, most of them shunned me because I was not from the Imperium, but luckily, I did not have to talk to them to know what they were like. My observation skills served me nicely in this regard.

I spent the rest of the day relaxing and processing what I had experienced and tried not to let it overwhelm me, though it was hard. I tried to focus my thoughts on my training and the future again, and let the past be the past. I tried to make the best of my small break and went to bed early, to be fresh for tomorrow.

---

Tahvyn knew that what he was about to do stretched the rules a little, but without stretching the rules, one did not come far in Commorragh. It was the credo he lived by and so far, it had served him well.

With steady hands, sitting at his table, still only clad in the towel he had around his hips – it had only been five minutes or so since the girl had left – he opened the vial in which she had packed the message. He sighed as he caught her scent on the message – oh, how he had enjoyed this night, he had to have her again sometime, she had been even more intoxicating than he had originally anticipated – and inevitably, he felt a warm shiver run through his body, followed by a stale taste in his mouth, considering that he would not be able to satisfy his lust with her, but had to go for some inevitably bland substitute, considering that Yaelindra was unavailable today.

His eyes flew over the message and as he was done, he chuckled quietly, taking a sip from his cup. He mumbled to himself, "Oh, child…"

She had requested a quite obvious thing from Yaelindra – a vial of poison, as it was allowed, but potent enough to be used on multiple occasions. That was not so bad, there was even some thought about it, he had seen worse in the requests towards Yaelindra, but there was so much more that could be done with this favour from the mistress of the Lhamaeans herself.

Tahvyn still wondered why Vect had sent this particular slave to the Carnival and why he took the risk of having her killed in there, considering that she was special around here; anyone who was not completely blind and stupid could easily see that.

Though it greatly confused him, he had to admit – only to himself, of course – that it also angered him. If he had caught such a precious gem like her, he would have made sure that she was kept safe and close to him and if he deigned to send her away for punishment or whatever it was the Overlord wanted to achieve with that, he would have made sure that she got any benefit he could give her.

That she got any benefit he could give her.

Yes.

Why not?

Smiling, Tahvyn chuckled, "Let's upgrade that favour a bit, shall we?" He would talk to Yaelindra about it and change that favour into something more useful for the child. He wanted her to get out alive of this, since with this little intervention of his, he could enforce another quid pro quo game upon her and they both knew where her side of the deal would end.

The only unpleasantry that was involved with this was to ask the Overlord for permission. Admittedly, it was a huge one, but there simply was no way around it. If he tried to cross or keep something from the old monster, he was in for a bad time, since he was far too close to him to be safe.

Tahvyn sighed once more, but this time, it was a burdened sigh. He enjoyed the benefits and pleasantries his position brought him, but dealing with Vect so often surely was a tough test for one's nerves.

Nevertheless, it all was worth the risk. Rarely had he received such a treat as she. He wanted her again and if he could do something to get her again, he would do it. Now it all depended on whether the Overlord approved or not.

As it was always with being an Archon, it came down to playing it cool and not letting Vect see that you were actually sweating blood when you brought something to his attention.

---

I awoke before the smallish, pale slave-girl came by to wake me, as she did every morning; therefore, I dismissed her as she knocked. I readied myself for the day, went to breakfast and then to my last survival training lesson.

As I entered the training grounds, I ignored the usual, disdainful stares from most of my fellows in misery. I had learnt over the past months to completely dull my feelings towards them, yes, even despise some of them, and I had to admit, most made it relatively easy for me.

I only had a hard time aligning myself with the thought of eliminating Cadriel and Josmina, since they both were far too innocent to be put through this hell, but I took solace in the thought that the possible traps in the Carnival would kill them off anyway. They both were scared of me though, since I was different from them but it did not bother me, since it would make 'business' only easier for me.

Shatra I also liked, since she was feral, but completely straightforward – nonetheless, she made no secret out of it that she enjoyed killing and that our strange relationship would end once we met each other in the Carnival. I could respect that and though she most of the time seemed like a feral animal, I knew I would hate eliminating her. As strange as it sounded, she was the closest thing to a friend I got since I was separated from Lisbeth.

Mashthra ignored me mostly; to her, I was just prey. Good. Underestimate me. That will be fun. However, I also knew that Mashthra and Shatra could only be overcome with cunning, they were physically far too strong for me and too well-versed in combat to be taken head-on. If they got the jump on me, I was done for. I counted on Yaelindra for that problem. Poison would give short shrift to any human, no matter how strong.

Titus and Hector outright shunned me, because I was not of their 'glorious Imperium'. I anticipated that smashing their heads in would be emotionally easy, at least I hoped so. I had no idea what it was like to kill, but those two made the thought enticing.

Rogal, Aszukh and Pychus worried me the most. They were hard to read, mostly observed and kept to themselves. I figured, though they seemed to get a lot of heat in the survival and combat lessons, they were the three most dangerous around here.

That I had detached myself emotionally so much from my own kind, shook me, surprisingly, little. I knew that it was necessary if I wanted to survive and that I needed it if I wanted to be able to kill. I had no idea how and if I could handle that, but I also was aware that no training would prepare me for murder and that there was no way around this.

I still wondered when the point would come where everything crashed down around me and I really was puzzled by how long I was able to hold up and how stable I was, considering the circumstances. I was aware that I soon would have to become a monster to survive, but I faced it with a strange calmness. I just hoped that my defences would not break down when I was in the middle of the Carnival, for that would be a death sentence for sure.

Once more, I tore my thoughts away from my deteriorating psyche. I had other things to worry about right now.

We waited for Beltis, as it was custom. If we came late, she tended to administer harsh punishments and even Mashthra, who was by far the most untamed around here, had understood that she stood no chance against Beltis. The Hekatrix seemed smallish and feeble, judging from her slender and rather short appearance, but, oh dear lord, that woman packed a punch if necessary. Once, she had knocked Mashthra out with just one single blow to the temple.

I took my chances and said, "So, what do you think? Is the prize real?"

Titus snorted. "Of course it is! What sense would it make to host this whole tournament if not to win something with it? But a dishonourable runt from some Emperor-forsaken planet wouldn't know anything about that."

I showed no reaction to his insults, I just took them to nurture my disdain for my own kind and made a mental note that Titus indeed was as oblivious as I thought. He would fall pretty hard should he discover that all had been a lie, which I still firmly believed. The Carnival was nothing but sick, blood-thirsty entertainment for the Dark Eldar.

Hector supported Titus, as usual, "There must be something to win, I agree, otherwise, it would be all for nought."

I looked blankly at Hector and shrugged, but eyed Rogal, Pychus and Aszukh closely as I did. They were good at hiding their thoughts, but I had a good amount of practice in reading people by now, so I could clearly see that they found the naivety of the two Imperial fan boys rather entertaining. Shatra and Mashthra paid the conversation little heed, they had resorted to their usual, feral, light sparring, which they always used to pass the time until Beltis came along.

Josmina stared blankly into the aether, as usual.

Cadriel followed the conversation with wide eyes; apparently, he was appalled by the thought that this all could be just a farce. God, it was so sad, he was so naïve.

Luckily, this useless bickering could not continue any longer, since Beltis entered the room. Flashing her usual, mocking smile, she stood before us and said, "Well. Haven't you come far." Her words were dripping with scorn. Shaking her head, she continued, "What can I say? I have tried to teach you as well as I could, but I am positive that I already have discerned some candidates which will fail for sure." To emphasise her words, she let her gaze wander over Josmina and Cadriel.

I shortly reminisced upon what she had taught us and I had to admit, it all had been useful. First aid, stealth, tactical and combat perception, making out water sources and how to deal with the common predators in Commorragh. It all was direly necessary and I had also resorted to writing a lot of it down at the end of each day. I planned on reading my notes shortly before the Carnival started, just to keep everything Beltis had said in mind.

I had held back in the survival training, to seem weaker than I was. Though this had cost me dearly sometimes, I knew it was necessary that everybody underestimated me. I just was not sure how much some of my 'colleagues' saw through my ruse. I feared that the most dangerous ones did.

Beltis's voice drew me back into the here and now, "So, since this is your last day in my care, we will do an extra-long session this time, which will test everything you have learned so far. Remember to do as good as you can; the better you perform, the higher the bets on you and the greater your reward will be if you make it out alive."

Yes.

The betting system.

This was another thing that just underlined for me that it all was just a cruel ruse.

Apparently, Archons could check in on their competitor and see how well they did in training. If they did well, more people betted on them. As I understood it, it was so, that the owner of the slave would get a share of the bets if their slave won. Of course, bets were not monetary, but the only currency that mattered in Commorragh: souls and lives.

Also, Beltis had tried to sell us the fact that the more bets were placed on us and the more shares we brought our Archon, the higher our reward would be if we came out of this alive.

Elaborate bullshit was what I called on that, but apparently, not all of us did. Poor sods.

I knew that my holding back decreased the number of people betting on me, but I also knew that the odds rose quite highly against me and if I won, I would still bring my master a lot of profit. I just had to play it cool, though it was hard.

I was sure that those bets would be paid for real, no matter if the prize was fake or not, and I figured that this was the real prize that was to be won for the Archons with the Carnival. It made sense. Souls and lives were always needed by them.

After Beltis had finished her instructions for today, I paired up with Shatra for some of the exercises, as we usually did. I did not do terrible, but I also held back from doing as well as I could and I made sure that my main enemies saw my failures. Deception was paramount here, but I was aware that they also knew that. I especially had a close eye on Pychus and made sure that I put up as much a farce for him as I could, because I had the feeling that he was the sharpest of minds around here. Alas, I could not tell whether my efforts bore any fruit.

Thus passed the last session of our survival training.

Beltis saw us off with some last, mocking remarks and how much she would enjoy watching as we got torn apart in the Carnival, but that did not touch me at all, for this was what I expected to hear.

What did touch me, was that, as we left the hall for our combat training sessions, Pychus mumbled (again in the Dark Eldar tongue) as he passed me, "Don't think that I don't know that you can do a lot better, Temira."

It took all my composure to not show any reaction to this, but to stare at him confused and say, "Were you talking to me? I thought I heard my name in there somewhere."

Pychus halted shortly in his pace as I said that, looked at me over his shoulder, this time I could see that he was genuinely surprised, and hissed, now in Low Gothic again, "Interesting. I had thought you would understand."

I just shook my head. "Look, I don't know how long you have been here, but you seriously should start remembering your own language."

He just snorted at that, shook his head and left.

Phew. At least now my acting skills had been good enough. Keeping from everyone that I spoke the Dark Eldar tongue was paramount.

If I let that one slide, especially towards one of Malys's underlings, my master would flay me alive, if I was lucky.

---

Ailith seemingly had been satisfied with whatever progress she had observed, as I came back to her to continue my combat training. I was surprised that I did not have to suffer any mockery about the 'love marks' Ea'nash had left on me – she seemed to express her mockery in deeds rather than in words. Ailith told me to discard my daggers and did so herself as well.

"Training you with weapons is useless as shit, should you find yourself unable to procure one in the arena," she explained. And so the next, harder part of my training started that day. I thought her training daggers were painful because they utilised some sort of Agoniser technology but I only realised then how wrong I had been. Even while being unarmed she managed to cause me excruciating pain by palm striking, pinching and poking the same areas that she had targeted with her daggers.

Only then I finally realised what this was about, how could I have been so blind? Pressure points and nerve plexuses! All the time she had taught me how to strike my enemies and how to properly defend my weak spots! Only then, as I finally started defending myself accordingly, anticipating her attack vectors, she seemed genuinely satisfied with my progress.

However, I only felt as if I had become worse all of a sudden, as I had the impression that my movements were limited, clumsy and somehow I always ended up in positions that put me at a severe disadvantage. It took me almost two more weeks to grow frustrated enough that I finally decided to re-evaluate my own movements and style, just to realise that I did nothing wrong of what I had learnt so far.

It was her.

Her up-close combat style subtly controlled my movements without even me realising it. She moved so strangely and abruptly that I often misjudged the distance even after weeks of intense, rigorous training and I always ended up too close or too far away from her, or even worse, wrongly aligned or angled. I slowly started to formulate my counters to her strange style and got closer to striking her, only to realise she had been toying with me so far. A slap, chop, kick or knee push at the right time deflected all my attacks or prevented them before they could build enough force or momentum.

She nearly knocked out my teeth once when I was finally sure that the next kick in an attack series would connect, just to have her – smiling viciously – stepping directly on my knee of the leg I raised for a heel kick and catapulting herself together with my momentum straight up into the air… while raising her knee into my chin. A Haemonculus had to see if my jawbone was dislocated, broken or just contused. The pain was not even the worst part; it was her gloating every time she finished me off when I thought I nearly had her.

her.

No words could accurately describe how much I loathed this bitch. Nevertheless, I also respected how well she had taught me, and how far I had come under her supervision.

Only after she deemed me capable enough to attack and defend myself while unarmed, I was allowed back my daggers.

The last weeks she picked up the pace again. This time, everything we had done so far in separate sparring lessons was combined into one. A fusion of armed and unarmed training without rules and more obstacles than actual room to manoeuvre took place. Of course, I had to find out the 'no rules' part again through a lot of pain as she almost jokingly threw her training daggers and hit me in the chest and the solar plexus from at least five metres away, simultaneously.

"You can throw things too, you know?" she said sardonically, rolling her eyes, while I convulsed in pain right at her feet, mustering all my mental prowess to not puke all over the bloody training hall.

The final weeks were more frustrating than I had imagined they could ever be, as every time I got close to her, she simply increased her speed, outmatching me easily, torturing me both physically and mentally.

I felt myself growing angrier by the day, unable to best her. It felt as if a black flame, fuelled by hatred, consumed me from within and all my dreaming and waking hours burnt down to but one thought:

Kill her.

Maim, disfigure, cut, dismember, gut, slaughter, cleave, devastate and obliterate that smiling, graceful bitch!

When I did not think about strangling or stabbing her, then I dreamt of it. All my thoughts were focused on this one goal, to strike her down and murder her. Slowly. My mouth watered at the thought, my food tasted better than ever, because as I chowed down the tasteless paste, I thought of her and how I cut off stripes of her muscles and how I peeled off her perfect, porcelain face and wore it as a mask to taunt that whore for the bloody short rest of her damn painful life.

The angrier I grew, the more she taunted me; the more she taunted me, the faster and more powerful I became. I screamed and I growled my rage at her while showering her with blows and I did not even try to fully block her attacks, as I learnt how to twist my body just enough away from her attack so that the impact of her daggers still hurt, but did not cripple me. I could keep going for an hour at this point, without break or respite. I just wanted her dead.

And she always smiled.

---

Finally, the time was ripe.

Vlokarion surely had been annoying the past months – it felt so strange to him to actually care about time again, how tiresome it was, how did they all manage that constantly – dropping in on every occasion and asking him whether any messages had arrived for him. Then again, it also had been helpful, so he had been constantly reminded of what he was currently plotting against Vlokarion.

With so many things to consider in his experiments, keeping track of such mundane tasks was always… cumbersome.

Of course, Vlokarion was sharp and he sensed that something was amiss; Urien had expected no less from him. But he was not sharp enough to pierce his head, oh no!

Nobody was, no, no!

With a wide smile, the Master Haemonculus took the duckling's message out of the de-odouriser, which had removed his – and only his – scent from the message and in the past months, it had kept his scent from attaching to it. Delicately he handled it with some instruments, folded it into its original state and put it back into the vial it had been delivered in. Urien had been displeased with himself for flinging the vial so carelessly around; restoring it had cost a considerable amount of time which he could have spent better. He had been about to drop the whole plan – arduous and drab works just unnerved him so greatly – but then he had reminded himself of the satisfaction he would get out of it, by putting Vlokarion into his place and this had sustained him through the exacting reconstruction process.

One last time Urien examined his work, then he put it in an unsuspicious place, so his scent could attach to the outside of the vial – everything else would have been suspicious – and waited for the lad to come around again.

It did not take long. Well, at least, in his opinion.

Days flew past so quickly while he was immersed in his art…

Then, he heard the door. This time, he had concentrated on hearing the sound.

Without looking up from his work, he said, "Ah, Vlokarion! How good of you to come around so soon again!" Urien lied fluently and without any feelings of remorse. On the contrary, he had to contain himself not to sound overly excited, for getting the chance of tricking Vlokarion did not present itself so often. It brought him childish joy.

"Is that so?" the hoarse voice of his – again, reluctantly admitted – talented colleague, stated from behind. His distrust was apparent.

The Master Haemonculus released an overly theatrical sigh, carefully removed his instruments from his current subject and turned around to face Vlokarion, wiping his instruments with his additional limbs and wringing his real hands, in a gesture of feigned dismay. "Yes, indeed! Look here!" he said with a precisely calculated inflexion of embarrassment in his voice, reached for the vial and presented it to Vlokarion, tilting his head just so that he minimally avoided his gaze, as if he was ashamed. Yes, his motions were perfect!

His colleague took the vial with one of his metallic limbs, as it was always wise, since contact-poison was constantly a dire possibility. "Finally, a message for me?" he rasped, not opening it yet.

Urien had to hold himself back not to let his false mask fall, since it annoyed him greatly that his colleague needed to talk with him before he could see whether his deception was good enough. Emphasizing the look of guilt on his face and in his posture, he said, "Yes. You see, I, ah, was so immersed in my work that I forgot to give it to you. It arrived a while ago."

Vlokarion's face darkened. "So we are talking about months here."

"Oh, you know that I do not keep count of the time! How would I know?" he lied effortlessly, waving his right arm in a dismissive gesture and flashing what certainly passed for an innocent smile.

"You are aware that the Carnival is currently in preparation and this is most likely a message that contains a favour?" Vlokarion hissed.

"Silly, silly me! Of course, of course, the Scourge mentioned something like that! Oh, am I not forgetful these days! The years pass by so fast!" Urien smiled along.

Snorting forcefully, Vlokarion unboxed the message – Urien watched with the very same smile on his face while he did – and read it.

The Master Haemonculus eyed the lad closely while he did all this, looking for some signs that he noticed anything – but Vlokarion was a master in hiding his own thoughts and feelings himself.

Admitting that Vlokarion was actually a challenge sometimes was out of the question – for him.

What his colleague could not hide though, were the very same things he had felt as he had caught the scent of the duckling. She was a treat for one's senses and the innocence in her words in this message just added to her sweetness. So young… and had come so far. Yes, those were Vlokarion's thoughts, he could clearly see it in his eyes!

That made his mind wander again.

Urien wanted a sample of the duckling. He needed to know what it was that made her so intriguing. She should not be of any concern to him, just another of Vect's playthings, but something about her had enthralled him. There had to be a solution in her genetic code somewhere. And finding that key could be priceless and insanely valuable. If he found it, he could sell it for deranged prices, or implement it into other human slaves.

It would just add to his long list of accomplishments and show Vlokarion once and for all, who the Master Haemonculus of this race truly was, considering that Vlokarion had not found anything, though he had had some considerable amount of time for tinkering with her.

Yes, that would surely do. But for now, he had to be patient.

Vlokarion folded the message again and snarled, "This should have reached me earlier. You owe me for this, Urien!"

With a falsely-sweet tone, he replied, "I am inconsolable! If there is anything you need help with in what little time you have left, let me know!"

Vlokarion shot him a dark stare and hissed, "Believe me, I will." With that, he left.

That had been rather unsatisfactory; somehow, the smart lad had at least partially seen through the ruse – however he had managed that, his display had been immaculate – but he was gleeful nevertheless. Vlokarion now had his hands full preparing everything for the duckling and had to be fast about it.

Urien did not doubt that he would come back to him once the duckling was here. His colleague would not be able to decode her regenerative powers so quickly, a thing, Vlokarion surely planned on unlocking in her, since she would direly need it in the competition.

On the other hand, he, Urien Rakarth, greatest mind of the True Eldar race, still had some ancient mon-keigh samples of the time the duckling came from, which would help greatly in decoding that part of her genetic code.

And Vlokarion would ask him for help.

And he would put him in his place, as severely as he had never done before.

He started to chuckle frantically.

Soon, the frantic chuckle grew to manic laughter.

---

Vlokarion slithered stony-faced back to his laboratory, not letting on in any way what he thought or felt.

Only as he had reached the safety of his demesne, he bared his teeth, his face a contorted mask of pure hatred and wrath. Subliminally he crushed the vial without any effort in his left hand, in defiance of his scrawny body. That the bent metal cut his hand and made black blood drip down between his fingers, he did not even notice. Such small pain was irrelevant for him.

"Urien, you despicable, ancient BASTARD!" he spat.

It was now finally clear to him that Urien had held back the message; this he had made very clear due to his almost comical display of 'forgetfulness'. Vlokarion was not sure whether this show had been meant as a serious try of deception, with Urien trying to bring out his best, confused state and severely overdoing it or if the old bastard had meant to overdo it so unbelievably, to taunt him indirectly with showing him that he had not come behind the deception until now, when he had let him know. Yet, he had no proof of Urien's deed – not even the slightest trace of his colleague on the message – and this made all his knowledge quite futile. He would have to retaliate very subtly.

To what end Urien had held back the message, was beyond him at this point, but he was sure that the old monster took pleasure in taunting him with it. Nevertheless, he predicted that Urien planned something beyond this small hoax and Vlokarion calculated that still something would be coming at him from the side of his colleague.

He sighed deeply. If he was to truly pull the masterpiece of what Vect expected him to do to her, it would still require some serious genetic decoding and his time was very limited at this point. Well, this was not an 'if' condition. Revered ally of Vect or not, if he went up to High Commorragh and told the ancient tyrant that it could not be done, he was in for a bad time and there would be no hiding place and no defence that would save him from Vect's wrath if he failed to deliver. And, oh dear, the Overlord seemed to have some serious plans with the girl, judging from what he had requested, no, demanded.

What added to this problem was, on one hand, that the Overlord had only given him his demands a short while ago – obviously a test of his skills; he did not like it, but he was sadly in no position to bargain – on the other, he was rather the master of building Talos engines and his absolute speciality, regarding every aspect of a body and soul, lied with Exodites, not mon-keigh. Admitting that Urien certainly outmatched him in versatility, concerning the different races, hurt, but it was the truth.

Vlokarion had done as much preparation as he could up to now, but as to the plans of the Overlord, he needed some more samples from the child… and some comparison samples.

And there was only one in this damn city that possessed said samples.

Vlokarion went into a cursing rage once more.

He had been played in this matter, this he had to admit. Urien was more than a worthy foe in this eternal game of subtle deception and creating even better, more refined masterpieces; on one hand, he had had far more time to hone his skills in that regard, on the other, there had been a time when Urien had been pretty successful in Commorrite politics, much unlike him, who had never had the hand for such things. He always had been a grand inventor, engineer and scientist, but never a good politician. Vlokarion at least took a bit of solace in the fact that even sometimes Vect seemed to be puzzled by Urien's erratic moves and motives. It helped very little, he had to admit.

Yes, he had been defeated this time. But he would make sure that it stayed the last victory for Urien in this matter. If he hoped to get close to the child, to somehow mess with his work on her, he was in the wrong. He would not let him get close to her.

Down here, she was his. And his alone.

---

After another two months in Ailith's 'tender care', finally things moved forward for me.

I got up like usual in the morning, a lot earlier than I actually had to, so I had enough time to prepare myself properly for training. By now I was used to sleeping very little and the adrenaline in training kept me awake quite nicely. I heard a knock on my door and bade the knocker to come inside.

It was the same young and pale slave-girl as always, who woke and delivered me messages all the time. This time, she surprised me by saying, "Your Scourge is waiting for you. He says it is important." I nodded and waved her away. No need to get any connection whatsoever with her, I would not be around here long enough to make it count and she would just be another distraction I could not afford.

I hoped that this was finally Vlokarion's answer. About damn time. I hoped that he had good news for me. With the perpetual rage burning in my insides, I went to the Scourge platform, a lot surer of myself than I had been the first time I had stepped onto it.

Sakh'ur'lath waited for me, arms crossed, wings folded, unreadable as usual, as his mask hid his face completely. As he beheld me, he cawed, "I have no idea what you wrote to the Master Haemonculus, but he sure was unhappy about it. I was lucky to make it out alive. It surprised me even more that he even deigned to give you an answer after all."

I knew that Sakh'ur'lath was right, still, I had to bite my tongue to not drop a salty comment about his mentioning of 'being lucky to make it out alive'. Why was it so hard for me to respect him, though I knew that I still was no match for him? Still, his words made clear to me why I had waited so long for a reply. Maybe this was Rakarth's silent retaliation for sending a message to him that was not meant for him.

I swallowed all that down and replied, "I tried to be as courteous as I could be, but apparently that was not enough. I am sorry that I endangered you." I did not feel particularly sorry for him, but I knew it was wiser to say that.

"Whatever. Here is your message," he hissed and handed me a metal vial.

I carefully took it from his claws, then asked him casually, "Do you actually work for someone else when you are not currently carrying around my messages?"

"Why would you care?" he croaked.

"I am just curious, that's it," I replied.

He shrugged. "Currently my employment lies here. My original employer sent me here, and I currently work for you and for him. After this is over, I will continue working only for him." That was rather uninteresting, but what he murmured under his breath and the translators did not pick up, was far more enticing, "And hopefully this does it with redemption."

I almost spilt my secret with reacting to this last sentence, but I reminded myself just in time that nobody was to know that I spoke the Dark Eldar language. So, this job was a punishment for Sakh'ur'lath. It made sense. Serving a human surely was a grave humiliation for a proud Scourge and Sakh'ur'lath certainly had even more reason to be proud, considering that he was one of the Scourges that made it out of Urien Rakarth's hands with their sanity mostly intact. I would not have been surprised if he was capable of things no other Scourge was.

"Well, that was… vague. I had hoped I could find out who your actual employer is," I stated. Surely he was one of the more expensive ones to be had around here.

Sakh'ur'lath laughed, chiming like what I imagined a laughing crow would sound like. "I am not suicidal enough to chat about my employer. It's bad manners and bad manners are deadly around here." He chuckled. "When I am done with my life, I shall tell you. But I doubt that you will outlive me." The Scourge shook his head. "Are we done here? Or do you have another message for me?"

I replied, "No, we are done. Thank you for your services, I doubt we will be seeing each other again."

Sakh'ur'lath spread his wings, turned around and chuckled. Before he took off, graceful as ever, he said to me over his shoulder, "I wouldn't doubt it if I were you."

I shouted after him, "What's that supposed to mean?" However, he, of course, did not answer me, just soared away into the sky.

I snorted angrily as he was out of sight. I had it with the riddles for now. What did he mean with that last sentence? Had it been a remark with no sense, just to torment me? Or was there more to this? As I had no means of finding out right now, and calling him back just for that would probably result in unpleasantries, I tore my mind away from it and turned around to go back to my quarters.

In my quarters, I opened the vial with the message in it, eager to finally read what Vlokarion had to say.

"My dear child,

I am positive that you awaited my reply with great anticipation, alas, your message took its time with finding its way to me.
I approve of your choice, but I would like to discuss your modifications with you in person, as a written medium always bears certain risks to it, which I do not favour. Considering what I have in mind for you, I estimate that it will take two months until everything is installed and you are ready to continue your training.
You will be fetched by one of my servants tomorrow morning, so we can start working as soon as possible. I expect that you have brought eventual affairs into order until then.

V"

I was surprised that he had written me in Low Gothic. Of course, though he knew that I spoke his tongue, he would not be stupid enough to write me in it, considering that it was a well-kept secret. Still, I somehow felt that it was a nice touch.

However, the contents of his letter surprised me. Two months was a long time; I now was curious what he had planned for me. I had only written him that I requested physical upgrades, but I had not specified which. I only had dared to write such a vague message, because I was quite sure that he had only my best interests in mind; if I had written to any other Dark Eldar, I would have been far more specific with my request.

However, as he had stated correctly, I had to tell this news to Ailith, and I was quite sure that she would not be happy about it.

After I finished reading the message, I left for breakfast. Breakfast was uneventful and tasteless as ever, but still, fuelled by my hatred for Ailith, I did not mind it any longer. I was the first to arrive and the first to leave, since I could not wait to match up with my trainer again.

I went to my combat lesson with a queasy feeling, though I was also really looking forward to fighting Ailith again and maybe beating her this time. Oh, how I longed for the opportunity to smash that superior grin off her face!

I entered the training hall, angry, confident and careful not to let my guard down in case Ailith had prepared something nasty for me yet again. It would not have been the first time.

However, I was disappointed in that regard, because she simply awaited me in the middle of the hall, arms crossed in front of her chest, staring silently at me from under her brow, smiling as ever.

Barely containing my wrath and disdain, I growled, "Good day. I will be leaving tomorrow for two months… my lady." I wrung her rightful title with force out of my throat, so much did I despise her.

I had expected an angry fit, since I was snatched from her grasp, but she stayed calm, tilted her head slightly and said sharply, "Why?"

I would have loved to answer with 'none of your business' but I was not delusional enough to do that, since I knew that she would at least triple her efforts of giving me hell if I dared. Therefore, I took together all of my composure and replied, "I am going to get modified and upgraded by the Master Haemonculus himself, to give me an edge in the Carnival."

Now, she laughed, that mocking, silken laughter I hated so much. "What an ambitious goal…" she mused, eyes glittering with scorn, "…let's hope that it is not too ambitious for you, little girl."

I narrowed my eyes and, ignoring her remark, I said, "I am really looking forward to the day when I come back, because then I will finally smash that smile off your face!"

Now she laughed full-heartedly. As she had gathered herself, she replied, "No, girl, you won't, because when you are coming back, I won't be training you any longer!"

Unwillingly, a both angry and desperate sound left my throat. Did this mean that today was my last chance to finally get her?

I spat, "Why, are you afraid that I could actually beat you?"

Ailith grinned widely and gave back, "Being afraid of you? Ha!" She shook her head. "Child, you could not best me if your life depended on it. No, you stupid mon-keigh filth, if you come back, all shiny and upgraded, or rather, profoundly shaken and torn apart, considering how little your ridiculous race can stand in terms of pain, you are finally ready to train with the Queen herself! You were given a quite profound, refined basis – now you are ready for whatever she deigns to teach you and an upgraded body might make you finally fast enough to follow her instructions."

I had already thought about my next salty comment, but I choked on it as she said these words. I had expected it all – mockery, threats, yes, even an angry fit because I slipped from her torturous grip, but not this, the final admittance that I was ready to be trained by Lelith herself.

"And how will I know if you are not lying to me to get me punished by the Queen for my impudence?" I growled, still expecting a trap.

She shrugged. "Well, it is up to you. You can come here and wait for me and come late for your first training lesson with her, or you can collect what guts you might have and go directly to her."

I knew she was not lying. Though I was sure that she was adept at it, I had the feeling that she was not, for she had stopped smiling for once and she had a certain calmness about her, which somehow told me that she meant what she said.

I sighed. "In this case, I suppose I have to try really hard today seeing that it will be my last chance to finally beat you."

The smile was back on her face. "Good luck with that, kid!"

---

I had tried. Really, really hard.

I had used every trick, every technique and every ounce of strength and agility in my body to finally beat her. I had come quite close, at least I felt that way, but I had not been able to do it.

Ailith's farewell gift had consisted of passing me a mocking, "So long, child!" and knocking me unconscious with a kick to my temple.

When I awoke, she had been gone and I doubted that I would ever see her again. Out of pure anger and helplessness, I had started to cry; first, it had been tears of rage, then of sadness. I felt empty. My focus of the past months was now gone in an instant, I felt drained, helpless and very vulnerable. I had wanted nothing more but to beat her for so long and I had been shown that I could not do it. I felt like a failure, though I knew that I was possibly at the best I had ever been. Still, it hurt and it hurt more than all the mockery Ailith had thrown at me.

Somehow, I took solace in the fact that I would be with Vlokarion tomorrow, who would be an ally for once and his laboratory would be a place where I could feel at least… safe. It was strange to think about it that way, considering that great pain was coming my way, but somehow, I still felt quite good when I was with him.

Feeling somewhat scared, yet unbelievably spent, I went to bed and awaited the next day with great anticipation.

---

I had slept uneasy, though I had been extremely spent. As I awoke, I groaned in pain and I felt that my left cheek and temple were swollen where Ailith had delivered her kick. I panted as I sat up – my whole head was throbbing like crazy and my sight took its time with getting clear. I now really was happy that I came to be in Vlokarion's care; as it appeared, I was more severely injured than I had thought I was.

Stumbling, I did my morning routine and as I was ready to get out of my quarters, I heard a fierce knock on my door. I bade the knocker to come inside and raised my eyebrows in surprise as someone stepped in I had not expected so soon.

It had to be one of Vlokarion's Wracks, that much was evident. It was a bulgy, limping thing with pale skin and its face hidden behind a metal mask, for which I was very happy. I had never been able to wrap my head around the concept of Wracks, to me they seemed like misshapen, clumsy specimen, yet I knew that appearances were deceitful. They were fast and nimble, I knew that, but still, I did not understand why disfiguring a being so much was a necessary step on the way to being a Haemonculus.

Then again, no one but the Haemonculi did.

"Savva is here to bring the slave to the master," the Wrack said in a dragging manner, its voice rough and hoarse and it sounded like speaking was hard for it. I had no idea whether Savva was a male or female name, therefore I stuck to perceiving Savva as an 'it'.

I replied, "Yes, I figured. Please, lead the way, I shall follow."

The Wrack made a gesture with its ill-attached head that could be interpreted as a nod, then turned around cumbersomely and limped ahead. I was not happy that I would miss breakfast, but I did not really have a choice here. I hoped that Vlokarion had thought of that; I would hate to face the pain of getting modified with an empty stomach.

The Wrack led me out of the Crucibael, as expected, and to a small flyer, which was waiting for us. It gestured me to get inside, I, of course, obeyed. The Wrack entered the flyer after me and without any further ado, the vehicle made its way down into the lowest region of Commorragh, the Underworld.

Shortly before we arrived, Savva said to me, "Savva and the slave have to be quick with getting into the tower, otherwise the shades will catch them. And Savva does not want to be caught by the shades. Savva has a shield that will ward them off, but only for a short time, so the slave has to hurry before the power runs out."

Though its choice of words was clumsy, I got what it meant. After all, I had seen the Mandrakes the last time I had been at Vlokarion's and its words made me figure that it did not possess the luxury of such a strong force shield like Vlokarion. I found it curious that a bit of a risk was taken from Vlokarion's side, but I did not pretend to fully understand his motives.

I direly missed my training daggers as we stepped out of the flyer and an only very faintly glowing shield bubble extended around us. We hurried to the entrance of the tower, for I could almost feel the Mandrakes eating us alive with their hate-filled stares, and I surely could see and hear them, for some of them clawed at the force shield and also some sickle-shaped, bony weapons were swung. The shield withstood those assaults, but I was not keen on finding out for how long. There were simply too many shadows down here. I made my way to the door quickly, as Savva had said I should. This was also where I was clearly shown how deceiving appearances were, because Savva also sped up significantly, matching my speed with ease and I was sure that it slowed itself down not to outpace me.

I once more pondered the words of my master, that I might be able to match a Dark Eldar in physical matters if I chose my upgrades right and still wondered whether he had told me an elaborate lie to give me some false hopes or if he had meant what he had said. I believed Vlokarion was perfectly capable of such upgrades; however, it remained to be seen if such intense modifications did not break the rules of the Carnival.

We reached the entrance to the tower and Savva opened the door for us. The second we slipped inside, the shield bubble died down and it was only at the right moment the door snapped shut behind us. I shivered as I could hear angry hissing on the other side, as the Mandrakes felt cheated of their prize.

Savva noticed my frightened stare, shrugged and said, turning around, "Savva told the slave that she needs to hurry." It made it sound like it was one of the basic truths of the universe.

I did not deign to answer that, just followed it silently, down into the bowels of the tower of the Haemonculi Masters.

I was very happy that we could take the same route as I did with Vlokarion and that we did not have to go some unnecessarily complicated way downwards. It was not unusual for Haemonculi to make their servants and subordinates use different and longer ways, and the more said servants rose in their favour or ranks, the more ways they were told to a certain place in the complex. I really was happy that Vlokarion did not belong to the Black Descent, for I knew for a fact that they did exactly this to their subordinates. This particular Coven had a multitude of ranks and their facilities were one, giant labyrinth, which was packed with traps, which only could be avoided if one knew the exact way, which included memorising a complex series of steps and movements, comparable to some kind of bizarre dance. The higher the rank of a member, the deeper it could go into the labyrinth. At some points, also shortcuts were revealed to the members of the Coven, but only if one obtained the necessary rank for that.

Howsoever, around here, the Haemonculi seemed to have a different method of protecting their laboratories, for I was quite sure that if an intruder stepped into these very hallways, he or she would be killed almost immediately… or knocked unconscious, to be later added to the row of unfortunate test-subjects of Vlokarion and Rakarth.

This reminded me that I sort of also would become Vlokarion's test subject very soon.

The thought did not entice me, to put it extremely mildly, but I really did not have any choice here. It was either the pain or death.

I took a deep breath as we had reached the door to Vlokarion's laboratory and it silently opened up for us. It had been a while since I had seen Vlokarion the last time. As we stepped inside and Savva bowed deeply and dropped to its knees before its master, I could not show that level of deference, for I was dumbstruck by Vlokarion's appearance.

I had known that Haemonculi could alter their physique on a daily basis and that quite a number of them indeed did so. However, that Vlokarion had done some modding with his body somehow shook and surprised me, for I had grown accustomed to his strange, yet familiar physique.

I guessed that for a Haemonculus it was not that much of a modification, but it made him look so much eerier that I was thrown off for a few seconds. He had elongated his occiput extremely; it now reached about three-quarters of a metre. His forehead was now covered with a heavy bone plate, which stretched back to the farthest point of his elongated head and it also protected what he possibly had installed underneath. All I could see from my perspective was a multitude of tubes and moving syringes, which protruded slightly from the downside of his elongated occiput and I could see that he had strengthened his neck muscles to support this heavy frame. His head now somehow was in crass contrast to the rest of his body, which was spindly as ever. I had no idea whether this modification was merely cosmetical or whether he had also enhanced his mental capabilities with it.

Though the sight was unsettling, it also added a majestic note to Vlokarion's appearance.

It also was this moment when I remembered that I had to show this ancient, revered creature some respect. Therefore, I hurried with bowing and saying, "Forgive me for my lack of respect, Maester, I truly was stunned by your appearance."

Vlokarion chuckled – I found that I had missed that hoarse laughter – and said, dismissively, "Oh, that. Just a small adjustment for my current needs. I tend to forget that it has been a while since we had seen the last of each other and that you are not used to such changes in appearance. Now, get up, child, we have a lot to do and little time for it all."

I did as he bid me, looking at him with slightly widened eyes, since I still was afraid.

"Take a seat, child, there are some things we have to discuss beforehand," he said. With an inviting gesture, he motioned towards his operating-torture-table and only now I noticed that it apparently already had been prepped for me.

I gulped as I beheld a strange apparatus, which held hundreds of syringes, filled with some translucent fluid, which all seemed to be aligned to some exact point on the metal slab beneath. I had a terrible feeling that I would feel the sting of those syringes soon enough.

All of a sudden feeling anything but safe, I walked towards the table and climbed it with weak knees. I was slightly shaking as I sat on the cold metal.

Vlokarion, of course, noticed my fear – I could see by the sheen in his eyes and his slightly flaring nostrils that he enjoyed what he got to feel and savour from me – and said with a slight smile, "Now, now, child, I am quite sure you have felt equally hurtful things when your master punished you." Then, he narrowed his eyes, tilted his head and started palpating the throbbing, left side of my head. He sighed and stated, "Having a little concussion, do we?"

His wording somehow loosened me up a bit and I agreed, "Yes, Maester, that is the goodbye gift my combat trainer deigned to give me."

Smiling, he mused, "Did you misbehave? That would be unheard-of."

I sighed. "No, she just loves to humiliate me."

Vlokarion chuckled and finished his examination. "Nothing too bad, child, it will be gone in a few days and it won't hinder our progress here." Slightly shaking his head, he continued, "I take it you haven't eaten yet?"

I just shook my head.

"Good. Should the pain become too overwhelming for you and I have to narcotise you, this will keep you from vomiting after you wake up. Such a strain would hardly help your healing progress. However, I will only do it as a very last resort, since the adrenaline rush of your pain response will help greatly with incorporating the upgrades into your system," he said. Slightly shifting on his elongated spine, he continued, "Now, to said upgrades. Your suggestions of boosting your strength and agility are fine, but I also have some additional things in mind. Let's see how far we will get with this and how fast you recover from the procedure."

"That's… very generous of you, Maester," I said and I meant it.

Vlokarion smiled. "It is, but usually I don't throw in my expanded knowledge of the rules when I modify someone for the Carnival. However, your case is special and therefore I will do whatever I can to ensure you a massive advantage."

"How massive will this advantage be? What level of enhancement will be reached with that?" I asked and hoped that he did not mind. But I needed to know whether or not my master had lied.

Vlokarion tilted his head. "What exactly do you mean by that? I sense a hidden thought in this question."
No point in lying to him. It would not hurt. "My master once said that if I chose my favours wisely, that I might become physically as fast and strong as one of your kind."

The Haemonculus smiled. "Did he now?" He chuckled. "It is not untrue; it can be done. But it would break the rules of the Carnival, as you simply would become too powerful and would best the other humans with ease. The enhancements I am going to give you now will make you powerful and quick for a human and will make you a tad superhuman when it comes down to your perception and regeneration." Vlokarion seemed to ponder something for a few seconds, then continued, smiling, "But who knows? Maybe, if you win the Carnival and keep and improve your master's favour towards you, we might be walking down that road, hmm?"

So it had been half a lie. I would not get those powers with a favour, but it was possible. However, maybe the Overlord had also meant that if I used my favours well he would see a reason to have me upgraded this much? It was hard to tell.

Vlokarion made a dismissive gesture. "Now, child, lie down, I will make the final preparations for the process." It was only in this second that he finally took notice of the kneeling Wrack, which had not moved out of its place for the remainder of the conversation. "Savva, you will assist me with this. If you follow my instructions to my satisfaction, I shall reward you." He did not even find it necessary to mention what would happen if Savva failed in its task.

The Wrack jumped to its feet as if stung by a bee and said, bowing repeatedly, "Yes, master! Savva will not disappoint you, master!"

Vlokarion sighed and mumbled under his breath, "That remains to be seen."

It confused me. I had never seen Vlokarion so disdainful towards somebody and it reminded me that I knew very little about the ancient Haemonculus. He only had shown his benevolent side towards me and I would do everything in my power to keep it that way. Making Vlokarion an enemy would bring me nothing but suffering, of that I was completely sure.

I lied down on the cold, metal slate and closed my eyes, just to not be staring at the syringes above me, which were all directed towards me. Vlokarion chased Savva around with some harsh commands and instructions, while he strapped me down on the slab and tinkered with the adjustments of the syringes a bit further.

I tried to retreat into myself and calm myself a bit down, shutting out everything that was around me. It was as hard as ever, even breathing deeply did help only a little.

I winced visibly and opened my eyes, only to wince again as I saw that the syringes now were lowered down to me, as Vlokarion said to me, "Grit your teeth, child! This is going to hurt."

The simultaneous sting of the syringes all over my body was not so bad. I even managed to keep myself from screaming as some of them started to pierce my bones.

However, as the fluid got slowly injected into my body, everything got blocked out in my head but the need to scream.

---

Lisbeth believed neither in heaven nor hell. But if something like hell existed, she was pretty sure that she was in it. The day Temira had left, had been the Day of Judgement for her. Since that day, Vect had enormously intensified his efforts of making her life a living nightmare. He had not pardoned a single mistake she had made, no matter how small it was, and had punished her harshly for any misstep.

As a result, her body was littered with injuries, but so was her mind. She had forgotten how it was not to be in continual pain and fear and experiencing perpetual sleep-deprivation. The worst thing about it was that he let her know that he still was not pushing her as hard as he could – by far, if his words were to be believed – and she currently already felt like she was on the brink of losing it. He had chosen her punishments with expertise and great care and not even once had he gone too far and had her allowed the sweet relief of unconsciousness. The short periods when she escaped the hell of her life, was when he allowed her to have some scarcely and irregularly given sleep – and then the nightmares started.

So, she now was in a half-state of living, somewhere between surviving and existing, clawing herself from one day to another. She had cried a lot in the beginning, sorry for herself, in fear, in pain, but not for long, as Vect had made – excruciatingly – clear to her that she would only show her desperation and pain when he allowed and wanted it.

Lisbeth doubted at this point that she was even capable of crying, as she had swallowed down her tears for so long.

What positively horrified her most about all this physical torture, was that Vect never had to injure her severely to torment her the most. Yes, her body was littered with injuries, but all of them were rather small. However, their immaculately vile placing made it a trial to do something as simple as walking, let alone any more strenuous activities.

It had taken her a while to figure out how to push on and soon, her mind had found the only hope she had around here: Temira. If she was not willing to survive for her own sake, then she had to try to push onward for her. Lisbeth had no idea whether her friend would make it through the tribulation she had been subjected to, but she hoped it with all her heart. If Temira died in the Carnival, then there was nothing left for her to live for.

So, yes, it was another day in her personal hell and she jumped as she realised that she had been staring at the water, which ran into the bathtub currently, without any motion for what possibly had been minutes. Cursing herself in her mind, she got to her feet – not without distorting her face in agony – and went to fetch the bath additive with a slight limp.

Gritting her teeth, she put it in, careful not to let the red crystals touch her skin – she had been careless with that only once and she would never forget the searing pain it had caused her to have this stuff touching her bare skin. In its concentrated form, the bath additive was highly corrosive, as it seemed.

The Overlord had also bestowed some menial tasks unto her, which she had never seen Temira being forced to do. Lisbeth was not stupid – she had figured out long ago that Temira was somehow special around here and that Vect treated her completely different. To what end, she, of course, could not know, but the difference had been made painfully clear to her once Temira had been gone. She had to do a lot of menial chores now, he did not allow her to sleep in his bed – it was usually the floor or, when she had misbehaved, the cage for her – and he used close physical contact and sex as punishment for her, not solely for his amusement, as he apparently had done with Temira, from what her friend had told her.

What scared Lisbeth about all that was that Temira apparently had not seen it. Temira had grown so accustomed to her position that she had not realised how careful Vect had handled her. This was another reason why Lisbeth stayed determined – she needed to tell Temira about it, something was going on here and Vect was certainly planning something with her and she needed to be told about it.

Her whole body showing exhaustion, she went slowly to the washstand with the big mirror. Of course, it was blurry from the steam of the hot water, but she looked to it that she wiped it – somehow, a blurry mirror was a thing Vect hated and the last thing she needed was him being mad at her.

She jumped with a small shriek as she saw Temira standing behind her, smiling at her.

Her heart had jumped to her throat and was now hammering painfully in her chest and she panted, the fright only slowly leaving her body and giving way to unbelievable relief. Lisbeth sighed deeply, tears of solace welling up in her eyes and she whispered, "Temira… I am so happy that you are here…" Turning around, she said quietly, "There is so much I need to tell…"

The next horror came for her as she had turned around, for Temira was no longer there.

Lisbeth let out a frightened sound and covered her mouth with her right hand. She sank against the washstand, shaking her head and her whole body trembling. She whispered, "I'm losing it… I'm losing it… oh god…" Tears welled up in her eyes and her body shook with silent sobs. It shocked her to realise what she had been reduced to so quickly.

Lisbeth fought hard for her composure, and it barely worked. Her mind raced. She was sure she had seen Temira in the mirror. It had felt so good seeing her again and now it just hurt like the worst torture realising that she had just imagined it. Hallucinated. Was she already that delusional?

She jumped a third time as the door to the bathroom actually opened and Vect stepped in.

With a deep, annoyed sigh he growled at her, "What have I told you about annoying me with your constant whimpering?"

Fighting hard for her voice, she stammered, "That…" She swallowed. "That I… I should leave it… be, master." She ducked as he went up to her, black eyes transfixed upon her. Her throat was clenched with fear and tearing her eyes away from his and casting them downwards, she squeaked, "Please, forgive me, my lord!"

Lisbeth flinched as he grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to meet his gaze once again. For a while, he stared at her, then he slightly shook his head and said, "Lisbeth, Lisbeth, Lisbeth. I still do not understand why my sharp Temira ever put up with you. You are just so… unworthy of her, it makes me sick. Do I need to give you a reason to cry yet again, hmm?"

Lisbeth shook her head and pleaded, though she knew what little difference it would make, "Please, my lord, I promise it won't happen again…"

He cut in, "Like the last ten times it did not happen again?" Vect shook his head. "No, my stupid, disobedient slave, as long as you do not learn this lesson, I will have to repeat it for you." He again resorted to silent staring for a while, then a slow, cruel smile started to grace his features – perfect for them, as Lisbeth thought. With wide eyes, she watched helplessly as his gaze fell upon the bottle containing the bath additive, which she had dropped on the washstand as she had been startled, so that some of the corrosive crystals had fallen out. He picked one of them up, turned it contemplatively between his fingers, following the motion with his black eyes, as his other hand went from her chin to her throat.

"Those are highly corrosive for you, am I right?" he asked rhetorically, this terrible smile transfixed upon his features.

"Y… yes," Lisbeth replied meekly.

The Overlord slapped her in the face and hissed, "That is 'yes, Overlord' for you, you useless piece of meat!"

The throbbing pain put her somewhat back into her right mind again. She squeaked, "Yes, please forgive me, Overlord."

He ignored her meek apology, his hand at her throat again and deepening his smile he said, "It is hard to decide what to do with you this time. Of course, I could rub this little gem here into your skin or one of your eyes, but…" Trailing off with a contemplative sound, he stared into nothingness. Lisbeth was sure that he was mocking her, as she was sure he had already decided upon her punishment.

"No… not good enough…" he mused.

Shortly, he seemed to think, but then his stare got hard again, his eyes found hers and the terrible smile was back on his face. "No, I think, this time, we will do this differently, so that the lesson might sink into your non-existent brain for once. You will pick up the scattered crystals," he said, while reaching into the bottle and spreading some more on the floor, "And if I get the feeling that you are hurrying too much with putting them back into the bottle, I can still resort to rubbing them into your skin or eyes."

Vect let go of her and gave her an inviting nod.

Shaking, Lisbeth turned to do as he had demanded and as she reached for the first crystal, her mind raced. What was just happening?

Was she going insane?

Was he now aiming to destabilise her completely with playing tricks on her mind?

Her racing thoughts were drowned in searing pain as she touched the first crystal.

---

Yes, yes, the girls are suffering and everybody is plotting something else. Let's see when we find out what the hell is actually going on with Nuscul, Zuol and Varys and what the heck Vect is up to (again - or still?).

Reviews and comments much appreciated!

And, as always (you already know me): patience for the next chapter.

Peace and love to you all.