Dear Readers,

I'm both scared and excited to publish this one.

Scared, because it's not the whole chapter, but only part of it, and I do know you deserve longer after this long while I have held you captive. I'm sorry I can't give you more.
Let's just say adjusting to my off-brand job was just as hard as I thought, and it was a lot harder than I thought to get my writing into order. And this chapter is the most harrowing one I've ever written (parts that are not in this one yet and not published yet) and it takes a lot of work and strength to get into the right headspace. Additionally, I needed to work on something else ("The Colour of the Black Heart", super dubcon smut wtih another MC and Overlord dearest, over at AO3, absolutely not doable here) in between, because writing Temira is, frankly, driving me insane. She's become such a broken character that I really need to sacrifice my own mental health to write her perspective properly.

But, I'm also excited, because there are some news I want to share with you.
Over on AO3, I published a Lore Guide to my stories, to make them more accessible to those that are unfamiliar with 40k and Drukhari lore.
And I have decided to publish shorter bits (still belonging to one chapter), so I can update MORE FREQUENTLY - the next part might be a bit longer in coming though, as hubby needs to write duels. :)
Also, I have learnt recently that the horribly long walls of text I tend to put out are hard to read for some folks. So, even though I've already created an Accessability Version of both of my stories, chopping the long chapters down into parts of average 5000 words (again, on AO3, you should really check it out, the formatting is so much nicer there), I want to handle "Into the Devil's Eye" and "The Colour of the Black Heart" like this now too, mainly for you to get more frequent stuff from me. "The Colour of the Black Heart" is fully online in this form, "Into the Devil's Eye", as you can imagine, will still take some time. Oh, and the Accessability Versions also have content and trigger warnings attached to them, as well as summaries of particularly problematic scenes - figured that might be helpful.

Now, to my lovely, lovely reviewers. You are my lifeblood. Seriously.

Morticus Mortem: Thank YOU for being a returning reviewer!
bobshady: Yeah, in my case, it's definitely a bitch. Thank you for returning!
Mysterious Venus: As always, thank you for your lengthy review, my friend! I hope your own writing treats you well!
bigwoof: I can't thank you enough, you're such a lovely, loyal commenter and friend. Thank you for being here.
Guest: Thank you, sincerely. Yes, it certainly is. Though for me it is not finding happiness, but rather get rid of the demons of the past. But we're getting there.

That said, enough words, and I hope you can enjoy this shorter bit just as well as any other of my chapters.

Love,
Shâtî

Chapter 28.1

A Knife in the Back I

"Enemies are everywhere. Wisdom comes from knowing which ones to eliminate first."
— Supreme Overlord Asdrubael Vect

LISBETH HAD THOUGHT she could handle it, seeing how Temira had changed. Had thought - hoped - that the other slaves had gotten a particularly bad picture of her.

But now, she had to witness first-hand how cold Temira was towards the slaves. How she matter-of-factly told them what they were in the eyes of the Archons, how to behave, and that she would feel no pity for them if they got punished. She did not say so directly, but her words were clear enough.

Temira was not human anymore.

The realisation hurt, but it was true. The Overlord had so much screwed with her mind that it was now broken. The worst part was that Temira herself did not realise it. Even more so, she was proud to be a good slave around here.

It got worse the longer service lasted. Temira had no kind words or understanding for those that threw up, when being forced to watch as the traitor Archon got torn to pieces down in the arena. Lisbeth barely kept from doing so herself, and wondered if Temira would have treated her any differently. She did not like the answer she had to give herself.

At least her clique was safe so far, especially Novia. They were a hardened bunch, and could stomach the atrocities, so none of them were in danger.

She had not lied when Temira had asked her whether she could handle watching her do her job and even punish. Now, she was not so sure anymore. But she could not let her see that. Lisbeth was aware that she was probably the last thing that kept Temira from snapping completely, and for that she would keep her chin up for her and tell her everything she needed to hear.

Lisbeth could not handle the thought of losing her best friend, even though it was happening right in front of her eyes.

Never before had I wanted to leave with a bunch of Archons so much. What should relieve me, which was that the ones I had to look out most for were gone, now left me with a cold feeling. Considering the mood the Supreme Overlord was in, it was better to hide behind more targets for his cruel enjoyment.

What somewhat consoled me, was that it was not just me that clearly felt that way. Even the Circle members seemed uneasy, though they naturally played it cool. However, I did not have to be a Drukhari to feel the tenseness and uneasiness in the air. It was alright if you showed your fear as a slave now, which took some pressure off me. Yet, I decided to fight it; after all, I was no common slave.

It came as little surprise that it was Sythrac who spoke first - after all, he had to prove that he had more wits and balls than the rest of the Circle, "So, to the training chamber, then, Overlord?"

Vect was grinning like the proverbial cat in the milk bar and dropped a bombshell that clearly had everybody show some - at least slight - sign of surprise, "Yes, however, I have decided that it is, once more, time again that we go for real weapons, and our usual training attire. It has been too long since our battle prowess and wits have been truly tested. This make-believe holo-training is nice and all, but we all know that things are different when the real bite of a blade is to be expected. Considering the assembled Haemonculi coterie and their highest-class skill, there will be no resurrection issues." Vect paused shortly, taking in the semi-hidden consternation in the room. "That said, we will use the copies of our weapons without poisons and without the effects that kill immediately. After all, we do not want anybody to have gone creative with a new poison or technology and kill somebody permanently by accident."

That was to be expected. Everything else would have been pure folly. Still, an actual death, and real injuries, were something else.

It seemed as if this was not the first time this commenced, at least, Vect's wording made it sound so. I shuddered. I had felt that the simulated deaths had been harsh, but once more, I was tumbled by the sheer relentlessness of the Drukhari, even though I lived among them for so long now. Them killing each other for real this time was something else.

Time to see whether the personal slaves were up for that challenge, I noted coldly. Yes, of course, each Archon had been around with at least one slave to keep them tormented company. Some had barely held together when Vyras had been eviscerated, what the Circle would do to each other shortly would be similarly harrowing.

At this point, I was grateful for the hell Hesperax had me put through. Being jaded certainly had its advantages in Commorragh.

"Apart from that, I still have to assess our newest member. Gentlemen, let us welcome freshly-risen Archon Cor'ech to our ranks. May he choose a wiser fate than his predecessor," Vect announced.

Cor'ech, the ivory-haired newcomer, stood and bowed slightly to Vect, while the rest gave him a greeting nod. "I sincerely thank you for the opportunity to prove myself, Overlord. I won't be repeating the mistakes of my late Archon," he stated, with a firm baritone voice, that had the same collectedness Vyras had shown. Making Vyras's former Hierarch follow in his footsteps made a lot of sense, now that he had first seen first-hand what would await him should he falter. It seemed as if Vect was done with intrigues amongst his closest Archons for a while.

While the whole exchange had commenced, Rakarth and Vlokarion had also come back to the hall. It seemed as if they had been informed about Vect's plan all along. It made sense. If they were to resurrect the Archons, they had to be prepared and move fast. Vect was right, though. With both Rakarth and Vlokarion in the room, there was an absolute guarantee that nobody would suffer ill effects from a short death.

It was so fucking surreal, when you thought about it. Drukhari already were almost impossible to kill, as long as they could afford a Haemonculus to bring them back. There was little that separated them from actual immortality. Only age…

…which once more led me back to realise how severely off everything was about Vect.

He should not care so little to maybe die today, because resurrecting him should be a true issue, which it clearly was not, otherwise he would not dare such a venture so lightly. He almost had lost to Zuol the last time they had been fighting - was he so sure about his battle prowess to not fear a loss?

Or it had been the doppelgänger all along the last time, and the real Vect, who might or might not be in the room, would be an entirely different calibre.

My pondering was cut short as my master beckoned me and Lisbeth to come to him. Naturally, we immediately followed his call.

"Temira, you will be coming with me, I want you to don my training gear," he ordered.

I nodded.

"Lisbeth, you gather the usual serving staff, with a gracious surplus. There will be cattle needed for the resurrections. One of the more experienced slaves will show you whom to take and where to go," Vect told her coldly.

I was puzzled. Where to go… Had Lisbeth never seen the training hall?

Lisbeth also only nodded, visibly paling, probably horrified by the casualness with which Vect issued death sentences. It was part of what she did not understand - it was just slave lives, they did not matter - and it was the reason why we both had to be grateful that this would, for now, not be our fate.

I firmly ignored the little voice in the back of my head that told me that maybe I was safe, but Lisbeth…

I bit my tongue, the pain bringing me back into the here and now.

Lisbeth gathered the slaves and left via one of the slave corridors. She probably was happy to leave, and I could not blame her, for once.

Vect then got up, his bodyguards surrounding him, me following closely after him, so close how I had if he had chained me. He nodded towards the Haemonculi, and they followed too.

A shiver ran down my spine as I realised that I was flanked by the probably most deadly trio in Commorragh. Only exchanging Drazhar and Hesperax for the two Haemonculi would have possibly made it even deadlier, in terms of sheer battle prowess. When it came to wits, this was the trio you probably had to fear the most around here.

Even though I should be absolutely petrified, I just felt… honoured.

Honoured, to be allowed to witness this echelon of the Dark City, without being in immediate danger of being eviscerated by them.

Honoured, that I had made it so far that I was allowed to take lead over my fellow slaves in a meeting this prestigious.

Honoured, that I had been touched by all three of them and lived to tell the tale.

It clearly was something else and I felt… warm inside. I sharply realised that it had been a while since I had felt like that. Lately, everything was so very cold and bleak.

The rest of the Archons followed this epic spearhead with their own coteries.

The way to the training hall was rather long, and once more I was grateful for my upgrades, because I had no issues holding the pace of the Drukhari. I noticed that everybody and everything gave this highest-class procession a huge berth, because not a single soul could be seen on the corridors, just some vague figures in the far distance, and they immediately turned tail once they spotted the assembly. Also, this time, I did not feel invisible eyes peeking from the shadows. It seemed as if even the Mandrakes knew better than to pry.

Once we had reached the training hall, the Haemonculi went down a separate way, and only Vect and I entered the changing room, like the last time.

As the door had closed behind us, Vect chuckled softly. It clearly sounded like one of the amused sort.

"Master?" I carefully asked.

"Sometimes, Temira, I cannot fathom the innocence of your emotions. After all you have been through, you sometimes still are the same child, locked in awe, that you were when I met you," Vect mused, his tone light.

"I… I'm not sure I follow, my lord," I cautiously gave back.

"I mean the fact that you liked walking between me, Urien and Vlokarion. Anybody else of your station would be scared witless. But not you, no, you made friends with the monsters, did you not?" Vect grinned.

I returned his smile, though timid. "I wouldn't have put it like that, but, I guess so, Overlord."

"No need to be coy, slave girl. I know what we are to your kind," Vect purred.

"True, still, I think it would hardly be appropriate for me to use such terms when describing my superiors," I carefully defended my point.

The Overlord turned around and cupped my chin in his hand. "Be truthful, Temira. Are we monsters in your eyes?"

I gulped, suddenly feeling very insecure, especially considering Vect's current mood. One wrong word could spell doom for me now. "S… sometimes, yes. Yet, at the same time, I know why, I know the necessity behind it, and I am aware that you fully choose to be what you are." My heart was pounding.

"Yes, you are definitely perfect for your station, child," Vect smiled, and gently patted my cheek, leaving completely unexplained what precisely he had meant by that.

Then, he proceeded to change, and I helped him - without mistakes. I was relieved that I could do that, after all this time, because I was sure he expected it of me.

Before we left the room, Vect looked at me with a sombre expression on his face, and once more gently laid his hand against my cheek. "You are aware this will push Lisbeth to her absolute limits? That I will push her? That you might have to, too?"

I gave back, my voice thin, "I am, master."

"You know I have to be able to rely on you. No matter what. Even if it means punishing Lisbeth," he said, the question implied.

"You can count on me, master," I told him, and it filled me with pride.

The Overlord smiled, his expression sincere. "Good girl," he told me.

I barely kept from squealing happily.

Then, the spell was broken, he severed his touch, and we entered the training hall.

Everybody else was already assembled, and a short nod from Vect told me that I was allowed to leave his side to tend to my serving duties.

I sharply realised that some things were different today.

A resurrection oubliette had been erected in the far end of the hall. I recognised it since I had been in Vlokarion's lair. The torture table with the glass coffin above it was distinctive, as well as the numerous instruments that were laid out like a complex puzzle or macabre display around it. As I had expected, real deaths were on the table. I shivered at the thought of witnessing this facet of Haemonculus art, and I realised that Vect had not exaggerated when he had said that I might have to punish Lisbeth too. I was barely ready to witness torture without squirming, how should she manage?

I gathered myself. No place for failure.

The hall also held a weapon rack, displaying the iconic weapons of the Archons - the copies, as Vect had said. That begged the question whether Cor'ech's weapon was there too, and if so, why, as he was new in these ranks. Then again, knowing Vect, he had already anticipated it all and planned ahead several months ago, at least.

Additionally, I found with surprise that this time the room was also guarded, some - for Vect's abode typical - Incubus guards stood at the ready. The view put me off at first, but then I figured that in the heated state the Archons were in, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Also, it was not the personal slaves that were in the bar-kitchen on the far end of the hall, but the standard staff we had for the throne room, with, as Vect had put it, a generous surplus. The personal slaves of the Archons were this time at their sides, some of them chained to their chairs.

It made sense. When they killed each other for real, the slaves would have to be there to tend to their needs - and to feed them their pain. After all, personal slaves were not only kept as such for the trust they earned, but also for their taste.

With a cold stomach, I found that not many of the personal slaves I had worked with the last time in this round were still here. Zethina, Lethe and Taura - Sythrac's, Nuscul's and Tahril's slaves - were still here, the rest were different ones.

Especially the absence of Aenid stung me, it would have really consoled me to see her again. However, she had broken the rules back then, by helping me with Ea'nash, and hence, it was to be expected that she had not survived that. Needless to say, her replacement was as equally young as she - and definitely more broken.

Ignoring those slaves so close to the Archons, especially those that I knew, would be harder than usual, but I would manage. I had to prove to Vect that I was over that.

Still, all of them were solely females. For a second, it struck me as odd, but then I remembered Vect telling me once that human females were more potent sources of pain, because of certain points on their bodies.

I tore my mind off it all, and went to the bar-kitchen.

Lisbeth - the one I needed to talk to - was there, currently talking to the slaves. I acknowledged the rest with a nod, and then turned to Lisbeth, taking her aside a bit again, as before.

"I figured this is new territory for you, yes? You've never been here, right?" I asked her.

Lisbeth nodded. "Yeah. Have you?" Something was off. The way she talked to me, it was… distant.

So she had not been here indeed! Either these training sessions were a super rare occasion, or Vect had deemed her not fit enough to serve in this particular venue. Both things were equally possible, I had to admit.

"Yes. It has been a while, but still. I'm going to be the one serving the Archons for now, I have to calm them and bring them together a bit. Last time they did not kill each other for real, I reckon this brings up quite some tension," I explained.

"I see," she said, and her inflexion revealed everything she did not utter. Lisbeth did not care at all whether the Archons felt uneasy because of impending doom.

Again, she did not get it. This was not about compassion. Even though I understood her resentment, she did not see that a bunch of tense Archons was doom incarnate for slaves, and that it was expected of us in our positions to pull them together. The station of personal slave to the Overlord demanded a bit more than just blind serving.

I pulled myself together, pushing the coldness aside, and tried it one more time with compassion, "Look, Lisbeth, I get it. You've just seen horrible things, someone tortured and eviscerated. You're aware it won't stop here and that not only the Archons will tear each other apart, but slaves will die here too. Quite a lot, in fact. I know this is all far too much for you, and I wish I could just spare you from it, but I can't. But as long as we're in this together, it's easier. Do you understand?"

Lisbeth sighed. "Yes, I do. It's still hard as all hell."
I smiled. "Yeah, I know. But this too shall pass. I got your back and you got mine, right?"

Lisbeth smiled. She looked very tired. "Right."

Something broke in me as I clearly could sense the lie. I could see it in her face and hear it in her voice. So it had come to this, that she would lie to my face about such an important thing. Yes, sure, I had also told her some white lies in our time here, to make her feel better, but it had been solely between us, and not on such an important, official occasion.

Was she… afraid of me?

Had she lied to me before, when she had told me that she could handle it if I had to punish a slave?

I wanted to ask her. To scream at her. To scoff at her fear, snarl at her whether she thought I had become a monster.

But… to what end?

I swallowed it all down, the disappointment, the pain, the desperation, and just nodded and lied to her too, pretending I had not caught her falsehood, "Good. Thank you. Then I'll be off."

So I was. The Archons certainly now needed my skilled hand, considering the sliceable tension around here.

I took a few deep breaths, drawing my composure together with all my might. I had no time to get emotional about Lisbeth apparently stabbing my back.

You knew this was coming.

Yes, I had known. I just did not want to see it. Pushed it away, hoping it would never come to pass. However, Vyras's execution, paired together with me coldly having slaves removed that could not stomach it had probably underlined to Lisbeth that I was indeed the monster the rest of the slaves said I was.

If I could not rely on her having my back, what was left for me?

The answer was simple: Nothing.

I was ultimately alone. It was just Vect and me now. I had to cut my losses. If I wanted to live, the choice was easy. Bow to the one everyone bowed to. Sever the diseased, weak limb. Kill and survive.

Coldness moved into my innards again. I greeted it like an old friend, distancing myself from my own feelings. Yes. This was good. I could work with that.

My first way led me back to Vect, who obviously took in the tension in the air with a relishing expression. He had caused this, why would he hide his joy?

"Do you need another wine from your quarters fetched, Overlord?" I asked him, hoping to at least come prepared should he play another game.

Why was it easier talking to him than to my former best friend?

Or, the better question: why was this only clear to me now?

If Vect sensed my inner turmoil he did not let it on.

I almost laughed at my own thoughts out loud. What was I thinking? Of course, he sensed it, he just did not care.

The Overlord bared his fangs with his grin and gave back, "Mmh, no, not as of now. But who knows? Maybe I will change my mind. You know my usual tastes, bring me something according to that." His cruel enjoyment was just too much to bear, his catish attitude like a scalpel. I was glad not to solely have to endure his presence for now.

Having served the Overlord, I then made my way to his Hierarch, as it was expected of me.

Sythrac radiated cool regality, as usual. Always collected, always aloof, his ancient, wise eyes carefully taking in his surroundings, ever-wary of backstabbers. He played it well, this deadly game, none other could hold the title he had for such a long time.

However, for all his cool facade, Vect's words on what Sythrac did to his victims shot back into my mind. Not just my mind - I could feel the cuts and needles all over my body. I gulped and tried to shove it away, but the images stayed. Yes, this mental torture certainly had burned itself into my mind and forced me to fight harder to have a proper conversation with the Circle members.

I bowed to him and greeted him simply, as I knew he liked it, "Hierarch."

Sythrac's gaze darted to me; apparently, he had been lost in thought. A cold smile graced his features. "Ah, the prodigy returns! Where will your success stop, I wonder?" If he sensed my heightened fear or different behaviour, he did not let it on in the slightest. Again, one of the reasons why he was so successful. Reading Sythrac was a skill only the rarest around here could master.

I forced myself to return his smile and gave back, "Somewhere and somehow sudden and immediate, I hope."

Sythrac chuckled. "A smart answer. But I expected no less of you."

All this was unusually casual for Sythrac. Maybe he respected me a bit more than before my win? It eased my tension.

Also, the scent he was clad in was utterly confusing. It was something… ethereal. Light, airy, mineral, and yet, at the same time, he smelt of different people all at once. Like he had been with a bunch for a long time, so that their scent had impregnated itself on him.

It took me only a few seconds to realise what I was sensing.

Sythrac usually wore armour that was infused with the souls of several champions of different races he had slain. These souls not only invigorated him, but also advised him and lent him their senses. Apparently, they were so infused into him that I could smell them on him. It was mind-boggling.

"Well, then. I take it you know what I like. Why not just serve me then, but invite potentially dangerous talk, I wonder?" the Hierarch mused.

"I figured I'd play it safe considering that my replacement has been rather lacking, from what I had gathered. Some well-chosen words can sway minds after all," I gave back, though he had a point, it was a dangerous thing to do.

Sythrac chuckled. "The fledgling has learnt how to fly. Quaint." Dropping all jovial demeanour, much like the Overlord was wont to do, he stated, "Enough. Be on your way."

I nodded, bowed and did just that. Just even exchanging a glance with Zethina was not possible. Then again, why did I actually care? I had only met her once.

Maybe it was because I knew her name.

Had to be that.

Sythrac surely seemed preoccupied. It came as no surprise considering he was left in a situation that robbed him of his biggest aces - his multi-soul armour and the instakill effect of the Huskblade.

I told the slaves what to serve him, and made my way to Zuol.

Him I only greeted with a snappy bow, like the military man he was, he appreciated that the most. His belligerence also was reflected in his smell. Weapon oil, metal plates and faint traces of dried blood covered him.

Somehow, the memory of Zuol's preferred torture methods fazed me less, because I had already anticipated them - and been somewhat through them. I knew what utter exhaustion and getting pushed beyond any limit over and over again felt like. I still felt that things I had experienced myself were not as hard to bear than those you could not even properly imagine.

Zuol graced me with a wild, fanged grin, his eyes shining with excitement. "Savour this, child! A training session like this is a rare occasion, and it fits the day so very well. The Overlord surely has not spared any expense to make this a special event."

As expected, the best fighter of them all was ecstatic to prove his prowess once more, and this time with actual stakes. Zuol would be a true horror to face in this ring, and anybody that faced him almost deserved pity.

"A special drink to lighten the mood even more, Archon?" I asked him.

"Yes. I want to feel the full extent of the coming battles. Something focusing, with some added adrenaline crystals," he gave back and waved me away.

I nodded, bowed and left quickly. This one I had to fix myself, handling adrenaline crystals was no joke.

In my time here, I had come to realise why Drukhari never had coffee. For one, most of their teas were much higher in caffeine content, and for two, there were some compounds in coffee that did not agree with their hyperfast metabolism, which made them extremely hungry and capricious. I had only been allowed to witness its effects once, at one of the many occasions I had been with Vect at some audience, and it had been rather terrible. However, coffee was also hyper-focusing for them, especially when paired with adrenaline crystals. In mixtures, coffee was used as a focusing agent.

Still, this little thing did not count as an actual combat drug, it was just a mild high. True combat drugs did entirely different things to their bodies.

I decided to go for a drink whose effects a slave had described to me once, and which actually had been part of the studies Vlokarion had subjected me to. It was a gamble, but if I got it right, it would be prestigious for me. It was a mixture of coffee, Tar'yenna tea and milk - we were not talking about cow milk, it was a compound which was harvested from the only kind of grains that grew around here. It nullified the hunger-inducing effect of the coffee. However, the ratio had to be perfect, because the drink was already ultra bitter as it was, and a wrong ratio would just push it over the top and make it unbearable, even for a hardened Drukhari palate.

Time to dust off the old biotechnologist knowledge. We were talking millilitre precision here.

I went back to the kitchen-bar and started mixing, telling everybody else to give me a wide berth when I handled the crystals. They also fell into the category of things that focused a Drukhari and were deadly for a human. A single one of these crystals contained enough adrenaline to make a human have boiling blood shoot out of all their orifices because of overshooting blood pressure.

As I walked back to Zuol, I shortly locked gazes with Vlokarion. We exchanged a slight nod and he smiled at me, apparently commending my mixology skills. I would have loved to have a talk with him, but no dice.

I presented Zuol with his drink and his nostrils flared as he caught its scent.

"Mmh, now I almost regret not betting on you, girl," he joked and took a sip.

I subliminally took half a step back as he savoured the taste, ready to jump should he lose it because the mixture was off. Not that I would get far, Zuol was such a menace.

However, it seemed as if I had nailed it. "Skilful, skilful," he commented, his now glossy eyes flitting over me, "Now, go, I need to prepare."

I was not unhappy to do so. Zuol was dangerous even when he was not on hyperfocusing drugs.

I hoped to get a bit more calmness from Archon Sarnak. The scientific mind of the round always was interesting to talk to - even though my fond view of him was marred when I remembered his preferred torture methods. Toxins. It was unsurprising for an ally of the Altered, but the way he orchestrated it…

I tore my mind off it, and forced it into the here and now.

I greeted him with a bow and a simple, "Archon." More was currently not possible for me, my thoughts still raged.

Sarnak grinned at me, his fanged smile predatorial. "Ah, now we finally know your name, now don't we, Temira. Wise choice of favour-givers, I must say. It pleased me to see that you went for the best Haemonculus around."

"Did it please you enough to place your bet on me?" I casually asked. I just had to know.

"No, not as such. Wisely chosen favours are one thing - acting on them another. Who would've guessed, the little kitten had it in it to kill," Sarnak sardonically answered.

Damn. So far, none of them had put any faith in me, as it seemed. It turned my stomach cold, questioning once more whether the Overlord had even calculated with me coming back. Had it been one huge test after all? Or had he actually wanted me to perish there?

No, I could not afford such doubts.

Even though this had been a normal conversation with Sarnak, I could not shake the feeling that he was quite tense. Well, I was a veteran slave by now, I had to take leaps, even though I quivered with fear on the inside, "Something to calm your mind, Archon?"

Sarnak narrowed his eyes. "The Haemonculi upgrades show, child."

I smiled innocently. "Would be a shame not to use them, right?"

However, this time, Sarnak was not so easily appeased. "True. Still, I don't need to be coddled by a slave. The usual. That'll be all."

Ah, but it was not. Sarnak showed me his displeasure by delivering a painful slash down my waist with one of his pointed fingernails, hitting a particularly sensitive spot with perfection.

I gritted my teeth and did not utter a single sound, then left, grateful that it was just a cut and nothing else.

Although it could be poisoned…?

No, no, I should not overreact. They only had been allowed to poison me once, and it had been by the Overlord's decree.

It was only now that Sarnak's heavily chemical smell consciously hit my nose. Yes, the close ties to the Altered could not be mistaken, Sarnak probably was on more drugs than I could name.

Damn, I had blown that. Even though Sarnak was a scientist himself, he apparently did not appreciate being figured out. I thought it was wiser if I did not get near him again, and had the slaves serve him his drink.

Also, I could not shake a sense of déjà-vú. The last time there had been a meeting like this, Sarnak had also cut me - out of wanton cruelty. I did not know which was worse, really - random violence or a deserved injury.

A bit more put in my place again, confidence wavering a bit, I made my way to Cor'ech, the new wild card of the Circle.

I decided to be careful with him. The spark I had seen before had spoken of a sharp and confident personality, and I did not want to fuck things up immediately with him. However, at least with him I did not have to shove pictures of torture out of my mind.

I went for a simple bow, and nothing else. I had not forgotten what Malidrach had done to me for speaking without permission, and I would not repeat that mistake ever again. I could still feel the slash on my face.

Cor'ech radiated an aura of collected calmness. I found that I felt similar with him like I did with Tahril, he was withdrawn and like a featureless wall for me. I wondered for a few seconds why this was so, but then I realised it: Cor'ech possessed almost no scent. There were faint traces of chemicals I could not name, a slight hint of metal, but that was all. I came to realise how much the human brain functioned with the information that came from smells. Should have figured that sooner, The Perfume was one of humanity's most prized books after all…

"It is certainly interesting to talk to one of the reasons why Vyras fell. Or maybe the main reason? Who can tell," Cor'ech said calmly, his voice one smooth string of sound.

I was pretty sure he was not guessing. Still, I would not show what I suspected either, so I went for an innocent answer, "I'm not sure I follow, Archon."

Cor'ech's body shook with a single laugh. "I doubt that, Temira. But enough of that. You're here to serve, yes? Then hazard a guess as to what I would like."

Another one of those stupidly hard tests. I suppressed the sigh, bowed, and went on my way.

Though he was impossible to read, what he said suggested that there was a sharp knife in front of me. It certainly showed whose Hierarch he had been.

I went for something elegant, yet classic, something you would expect one of the Archons to have before a battle. It was an infusion of a blend of caffeine-laden teas, had to be elegantly balanced, it was a complex drink to savour, yet a classic amongst the elite of Commorragh when concentration was required.

Cor'ech beheld me with a blank expression as I served him his drink. He took a sip, then gave me an approving nod.

Yes! I had gotten better at this!

I kept myself from grinning victoriously.

Cor'ech said no more, but dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I understood why he wanted to keep conversation to an absolute minimum. As the newcomer, he had to be wary.

Nuscul was next. However, I knew I could allow myself a little leniency with him, so I quickly hopped back to the kitchen bar and made sure that the cut Sarnak had delivered would not soak my clothes completely…

…which was when I realised that the chain attire had not bothered me at all so far. I suddenly understood that my enhanced physique instinctively knew how to handle the movement impairment.

Now I just wondered when one of them would use it against me.

I shoved the thought aside, cleaned myself up and then hurried to Archon Nuscul, intensely ignoring the small voice in the back of my head that whispered to me that even the overly joyful man he was had his terrible, sickening sides.

He was gracing me with his ever-jovial grin when I approached, and before I could properly greet him, he chirped, "Oh, Temira, this is going to be so much fun! Not as much fun as when we caught Vyras, but still!"

Obviously, Nuscul was looking forward to battling.

His scent underlined it. The endorphins and adrenaline made him smell of… youth. Testosterone-y and milky, mixing with the artificial smell of his bodyglove. It was clear that he was one of the youngest around here. An athlete, at his peak.

I bowed and said, "I'm glad to see you're joyful, Archon." It was a bit stiff, but what can you do?

"Oh yes, definitely joyful enough to go for one of those fruity drinks Yaelindra loves so much," Nuscul beamed. He certainly had not minded my stiffness.

I bowed my head and got him precisely what he wanted, again concentrating hard not to have my hands shaking, the smell of the alcoholic beverage reminding me all too well about what he did when he wanted to feast on suffering.

Alcohol overdosing.

When I served him, I casually asked, "If you don't mind me asking, Archon: how did you catch the late Archon Vyras?" There could be no harm in that, right?

"Ah, it was really fun engineering that. We had Malys lure him to her abode, while Zuol and I were hunting him to not give him time to think." Nuscul chuckled scornfully. "You should have seen the look on his face when he found the Overlord sitting on her throne…" He broke off with a mocking laugh.

Oh dear. That explained a lot.

With it being so clear that Malys had conspired with Vyras, it was no wonder the Overlord had torn her down like he had. Instigating one of his Circle members to betrayal was certainly something he could not let slide, not without severe repercussions.

It now also explained why Khromys, one of Malys's closest allies, had been there to see Vyras's fate and Malys's disgracing live. It was a clear warning in her direction to never get too bold with Malys too. As the relative newcomer Khromys was, it probably would do the job.

"So, I take it, you're in such high spirits because a feat like this will help you advance?" I asked Nuscul.

A lopsided smile. "Mmh, the matter is still up in the air. But there is at least a spark of hope."

Curious. It seemed as if things were not as crystal-clear as you would think. There was a piece of this whole picture missing, but I doubt I would get behind that.

"So, no, what I'm truly happy about is this fight. It's nostalgic for me, really. Just like the good old days in the arena, no safety net, just raw skill," Nuscul beamed.

"I see, my lord. I'll be off now and leave you to your drink."

"Sure, dearie. Off you go!"

I would never get used to the nicknames he gave me.

As I had bowed and left, I heard him converse with Lethe shortly, then him clearly saying, "Alright, go!"

I heard some heavy footsteps behind me, and halted, as Lethe caught up to me, "Temira! So good to see you!"

She… hugged me.

I felt frozen in her embrace, yet automatically reciprocated her hug. Why did she hug me? She had only met me once. What…?

Disengaging again and taking a step back, she continued, "You have no idea how rare it is to see someone from the Black Heart return from the Carnival. You did great, from what I've heard!"

I smiled wryly at her and gave back, "Mmh, I have some idea. It was mentioned to me that usually they don't make it." Startled, since I almost had forgotten, I added, "And thanks."

She nodded, her look concerned. "How do you feel?"

The sincerity of the question tumbled me. "I… I'm not sure. Different, I guess," I stammered. I could not falter now!

Damn you, Lethe!

She nodded, a spark of warmth and understanding in her eyes. It shook me. How had she managed to stay so… human around here, without losing her mind? Was Nuscul really so gentle with her? Had to be that, I figured.

Lethe warmly gave back, "I see. I'd say, if there's anything I can do to help… but we both know how empty that phrase would be, considering how little we see of each other."

I nodded. "Yeah. Still. Thanks for the talk. But I better get going."

Lethe nodded and let me.

My head was spinning. Why did she care? I was a killer, I was a monster, I was not deserving of her pity. Why was this so hard?

You do not need her pity.

I got more empathy from her than from Lisbeth and that was why it was so damn hard.

Do not flock to empathy. You can do better.

…

*Yes.* I almost whispered it to myself.

The voice was right.

Empathy was deadly in Commorragh.

Lisbeth has abandoned you. You did what you had to do.

Yes. Yes, she had. It had finally happened, she had finally faltered, she had finally abandoned me, as I always had thought she would…

I should not mourn something that had always been fake.

This helped. I still felt fragile, but it helped.

The next meeting, I dreaded. I had not forgotten that I owed Ea'nash for enhancing my favour, and I was sure he would use it relentlessly against me - one way or the other.

I did not even flinch as Ea'nash grabbed me, drew me in his lap so I had to straddle it, and greeted me with a deep kiss. He took his time, touched me again in places I did not want to be touched in publicly, and, inevitably, aroused me a bit with it. He was just too damn good with it. No surprises from Yaelindra's boytoy here. My only saving grace was that the rest of the Circle did not care about his advances in the slightest, so I did not additionally have to deal with voyeurism.

His scent engulfed me, he wore light perfume, masking his natural scent. The perfume was fresh and airy, focusing my senses and acting as an aphrodisiac. Again, no surprises.

I began to fully understand why Vect was not particularly fond of Ea'nash. He was too predictable.

As Ea'nash was done, he cupped my face in his hands, smiled wolfishly at me and purred, "Missed me, love?"

"Absolutely not," I thought. But I was not stupid enough to even let this on in the slightest.

I forced a coquettish smile on my features and gave back, "Definitely. After all, our last meeting was… intense."

Ea'nash bared his fangs. "Oh, my little one. If you thought that this was intense, you truly have been touched with velvet gloves so far." He chuckled lewdly. "I will get you again, Temira, maybe even when the Overlord wants you punished, hmm? That would make for an intense session, love."

I could not help but feel queasy. I had not forgotten what Vect had told me about Ea'nash's torture preferences and I did not want to end up like that- a helpless torture-rape-toy with broken limbs.

"Oh my," Ea'nash cooed, "seems as if somebody is afraid of me still, after all this time and all these sweet things we shared. Got a little bit more insight, hmm, love?"

"I… Yes, my lord," I gave back, fighting to keep my calm and not let the images that had burned themselves into my mind take over.

Ea'nash savoured my dismay and fear, hugged me, leant in on me and inhaled my scent by gently placing his nose against the side of my neck. Quietly, he whispered against it, "I can't wait to play with you again, love." This time, this term of endearment felt like a stab. Having dealt that blow, he drew away.

"Fancied me enough to bet on me?" I asked him. I had to know if even one of them had put their faith in me!

"Ah, I might have, if I was interested in such trifling matters. My interest in the Carnival ended the second I adapted your favour," he told me.

This ground my gears. Had really not a single one of them bet on me? Sure, I had not asked Sythrac and Cor'ech, but still. The absolute lack of confidence in me was utterly crushing.

With flashing teeth, Ea'nash pushed me off his lap and told me, "Enough!" Staring at me from under his brow, he suggestively added, "You know what I like."

I just nodded, all words stuck in my throat. I should be immune to such obvious mind games, but Ea'nash struck a chord in me I was helpless against. That he once had laid his hands on me and had found out one of my greatest weaknesses gave him certainly a lot more power over me than most around here.

What surprised me was that he had not reacted in the slightest to my obvious torment about Aenid's absence. Or maybe it was not that obvious at all…?

Sadly, I was aware that if anybody other than me served him, he would take offence, so I did not get away from this. As I handed him his drink, he made sure to caress my left hand with his index finger.

To my surprise, this was all he did. He dismissed me with a nod.

From one horror to the next. I dreaded what the extreme, deranged sadist that Atanel was, had in store for me.

I almost laughed again at my own thoughts. They all were deranged sadists, they just chose to cancel themselves for me, at least. Or, rather, not for me, but for the Overlord's command. I had always wondered why Vect had not scolded Atanel for his roughness and unrefined methods. Probably a Hellion leader needed those wild qualities to be effective…

…and also those torture preferences to underline it. I felt sick. The whole "dropping from great heights for a near-death experience" thing crept into my mind again. I absolutely dreaded the sensation of falling, and great heights gave me trouble. Now that Vect had smelt blood in that regard, I was scared what he would come up with.

I took a deep breath. I had to keep it together!

I greeted Atanel with a stiff bow, not wanting to give him anything to work with.

Sadly, even that did not help. He immediately grinned at me, his pointed teeth bared, and he derided me, "What, no formal greeting?" He chuckled menacingly. "You've been thoroughly put in your place since the last time we met, eh?"

I looked at him, trying to hide the tormented expression, and gave back calmly, "The Overlord has been… strict… with me recently."

"Good! You have been too prideful anyway," he grated, "though I must say that I had a good laugh when you keeled over in the arena. You should've realised that it were psychotropics in your system that made you see things."

I winced as he grabbed me by my throat and drew me closer. His scent now clearly engulfed me. Blood. Metal. And yet… a whiff of freshness about him, like cat's fur when it had been ruffled by cold wind.

Our noses only centimetres apart, he hissed into my face, "I dare you. I dare you to ask me."

It took me a second to realise what he meant. "Considering what you let on, I don't think I need to."

Atanel slapped me in the face. Since I could not move my head to evade some of the impact, it hurt quite nastily.

I suppressed a sigh. That one was, unfortunately, very deserved.

"You don't need to think."

Precisely.

"I order, you obey."

I gulped, his hand pressing harder against my throat with it, and with a shaky voice, I did what he demanded, "Did you… did you bet on me?"

Atanel chuckled evilly, apparently enjoying the corner he had me in. He leant in on me, his lips almost brushing against my ear, and with a cruelly soft tone, he whispered into it, "Do you actually think anybody bet on you, you pathetic piece of shit?"

I was close to tears at this point. Deep down, I had known. I had known how insignificant I was. How close of a call it had been. Yes, it was all true. Kyhrac had been right - I just had been lucky, nothing else. No skill, no…

I was snapped back into reality as Atanel let go of me, smiling contently, apparently joyous that he was able to rattle me so.

"The usual, by the way," he cooed, as I had tumbled half a step back.

My addled mind needed a second to process his words, but then I did, nodded, and fled.

I had others serve him. I had lost my composure enough to him.

Head still spinning, I made my way to Tahril. Just one more assault on my mind, then I could rest up a bit. Even the smallest break would be welcome now.

Again, I decided for a simple bow as a greeting… for whatever good it had done me so far.

I felt lucky that I did not care about Taura. She had been a mostly blank canvas anyway back then, no need to invest my feelings in her.

Tahril sighed. It was weird to hear him utter anything else than the most necessary words. "Atanel's being a bastard again, hmm?" he asked me.

I nodded.

He shrugged. "What else is new."

I blinked confusedly at him, then suppressed a chuckle. Tahril did have a point there, which was the reason why I should not allow Atanel to tumble me so.

"Khromys was a bit of a nosy cunt, now wasn't she," he continued.

How odd. That was quite the change of subject and tone. "I guess, Archon," I gave back carefully.

"She had one good point, though," Tahril continued casually.

"My lord?"

"I think you do understand our language. So far, you just managed not to let it slip," he mused.

I tried to play it as cool as possible. Damn, Tahril was super dangerous! I had misjudged him, I came to realise. The quiet, withdrawn demeanour he had shown probably had not been shyness, but calculation. Observation. Sorting his deck, so to speak.

"I'm absolutely certain that I don't, Archon," I lied calmly.

Tahril grinned. "You're a decent liar, I have to give you that. Alright, keep your secrets. I know I won't get anything out of you, not with the current audience. But who knows? Maybe one day…" he trailed off, lost in thought, but also with a clear spark of malice.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said, "Have the other slaves serve me the usual. I need to think, and your presence is disturbing me."

I bowed and left.

What an odd conversation. It had drawn me in so much that I had not been thinking about his torture preferences at all, though he had to be skilled.

I also sharply realised that Tahril was very similar to Cor'ech when it came down to his scent. There was barely any going on. Something acidic, metal… ozone. I wondered where the last component came from, yet, at the same time, I figured I did not want to know.

I went back to the bar-kitchen, and took a break. I really needed it, signalling clearly that I wanted to be left alone - even by Lisbeth. As I rested, my frustration and anger grew, sweeping all feebleness Atanel had induced in me aside.

Good. You are better than you get credit for.

Yes, I did not deserve this!

I had evolved so much, fought so hard, used my favours wisely… and this was what I got as a reward? That not even one of them had trusted me to win? No… no, I had not been that bad, Atanel had just tried to get into my head - almost completely successfully. I had to thank Tahril to shake me out of that, for sure.

I had to vent my anger somewhere. And luckily, as things stood, I would have a lot of targets. Some slaves would fuck up. And I would be there to see to it that they never again did - with pleasure.

As always, thank you for reading and please, please, PLEASE leave some thoughts - lord knows I need the boost.
I'm in a weird place right now. Changing. Emerging. But also breaking.

Love,
Shâtî

PS: Come on, guys. Almost 90.000 hits and barely 200 people can be bothered to follow for a trilogy length story, which you can read FOR FREE, or, even more so, leave a comment? Remind me, why am I doing this again? Oh yes, for the likes and the comments I'm not getting. Sorry for being salty, but this is grinding my gears.

Keep in mind: I know how it ends. You do not. And don't think it's going to be obvious AT ALL.

On that note, if you think about leaving a comment as nonsenical as the following one, please don't bother:

"Stuff and things would be different if you had used vampire girl instead of human girl because then Vect would be in same place that your Temira and your Lisbeth and other captured humans are and other dark eldars would serve as food for our vampire girl because vampires are powerful immortal predators and dark eldars are favorite food for vampires just like all elves are with some of them becoming pets fuck toys etc for vampires however for most part elves and eldars are food favorite food for vampires Akularz-Shati"

Especially please don't if you are as fragile as the author of this comment, who PM'd me later with the same, nonsensical idea, and turned out to be the user "Naruto Loves FemKyuubi" (yes, I'm calling out a troll and a flamer here). They asked me per PM - in all sincerety - whether we could discuss their vampire idea. I think it is understandable why I did not want to do this, as it has nothing to do with the story and disrespects everything it stands for - and I think there's a lot to comment on in my story that does not include vampires. When I argued that point, and pointed out that punctuation should be observed and they might want to look into that, and that they please should not contact me again (literally, I wrote please), all I got back was a "fuck you" in capital letters and got blocked.

So, if you're a snowflake like this, don't bother at all. I can't take this kind of behaviour seriously. If you leave a comment that has nothing to do with the story, then let me tell you I will call you out on it and you won't like it. I'm not suffering trolls and flamers, for that I'm too old and have too little fucks left to give.