A/N: I do not own Darkest Dungeon or anything affiliated with the brand. This is just a fanfic from an amateur writer. Warning: World Building, Unreliable Narrator, Dark, Everyone is Broken, Flashbacks, Horror, Death, Stress, Traumatic Pasts, Human Trafficking, Abuse, Child Abuse, Rape, human sacrifice, Hey Did I Mention Dark? Cheesy Romance, and Gamer tropes. I do not make any money off this story. Thank you for your time and my gratitude to Red Hook Studios.

"Talking"

'Thinking'

Memories

Casting/Skills/Words of Great Power or Meaning

The Ancestor Speaks

The Others

Previously

'Uh, I didn't need that image.' I grimace in pain and disgust, as the hands that were beside me the entire night, pick me up. It was not Dismas or Reynauld. As both stood guard a ways away. Rather it was Stafford who was holding me in a princess carry and bringing me to the Barracks, to Home.

I can feel Love as his Power wraps around me, protective and tentative. I relax intuitively and trust my hero. He only takes a few steps before I succumb to Darkness.

Ch 16: Memories Best Left Forgotten

Warning: Child Abuse, Torture, Human Sacrifice, Dark Magic is Dark, Reference to Rape, A+ Parenting. Most of this Chapter is a Warning. Please skip to the end of the chapter for the battle scene.

I watch a child version of myself through her eyes and heart.

I vomited and shook at the side of my mother's throne as she pulverized another servant into a gory paste. The man's crimes? He snuck me some sweets when I was ordered to go hungry for being too weak.

"When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Grow stronger."

My mother's Power grabs me and pulls me upright and face forward. The next servant is called and taken to where the red puddle lays in the middle of the room.

Mother guts and quarters her with garnet red shadows. She wrapped me in a blanket when I was cold the other day.

I cry and tremble.

She repeats, "When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Grow stronger."

Another servant is called in. He asked what my favorite food was the other day and delivered it. He is set on fire and burns until only his skeleton lies with an open scream.

I break out in sobs and am forced to face forward.

A voice states from the throne, "When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Grow stronger."

Another servant comes in. He said hi while I was on the way to answering my mother's summons. His tongue is elongated, ripped out, and choked to death on it.

I sniffle, unable to wipe the snot and tears.

When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Grow stronger."

And this continues. Any servant that has shown me kindness is brutally murdered and I'm forced to watch. My mother repeats her words, her lesson for me every single time. She is awfully, terribly creative. No death is repeated twice, and each is horrifying in its twisted way.

Eventually, I became numb and stopped responding to the horrors that left what seemed to be a lake of blood and body parts. Large enough that it spreads throughout the room. The only thing untouched is the elevated throne my mother sits on.

'She only respects strength.'

"Mother, may I take some time to clean myself up? I want to present a strong front."

I'm still forced to face forward but from the corner of my eye I see her smile and she dismisses me. She summons another servant to get me cleaned up and returned. My footsteps leave a trail of blood.

Upon return, I take my place by her side and watch as the maid who helped me on my mother's words earlier is forced into the center of the room. She cries and begs and is shown the proper mercy for such weakness. Her hand turns to claws to scratch out her eyes and her organs expelled from between her legs.

I watch with dull eyes. Not moving. Not making a sound.

Another is called in.

This repeats a few more times until my mother is satisfied that I won't crack. I'm allowed to leave and return to my studies. I'm relieved. When studying I am never punished.

The servants avoided me for the rest of my time at the house. I'm completely isolated from anyone but my family and guardian.

It was really lonely.

I lurch from the bed and vomit. Soft hands hold my hair back. Another pair of hands hold out a mug of water. I smell gunpowder and flint.

'Dismas.' I trust the water and drink. Trying to push myself up but nearly collapsed into my vomit. 'That needs to go.' I call my shadows to devour any sign of weakness and it happily accepts the blood-sprinkled bile.

My head spins and feels fuzzy. I'm as strong as a shattered china doll and yet I try to get up. The hands that caught me from falling, pull back into the bed. A dark scholar's hand that smells of old squid ink and warm sand. I futilely resist as I'm tucked in.

"n-Not weak."

A voice gently answers, "Not weak Lady Adamos, but weakened. You will need your rest."

"N-no I c-can get up. No suffering, no more suffering…"

My vision blur registers one of my Occultists and Dismas beside the bed. "She can't take you too. I won't-" I cough blood and call shadows to consume that as well. I will not leave any evidence of weakness. They're talking, I can't make out the words and I return to my Nightmare.

The fetid bloated corpses have stopped being something unusual to me, as Guardian walks ahead of me with the torch held high. The house's dungeons are packed with poor souls who tried to cross our family or were simply unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The remains of which are stored here. Sanitary conditions are not a concern, none of them are expected to live.

I met Lord Mother, who was swell with child, standing over a half-finished ritual circle. The offerings were lined up and chained to the wall. The cries of other children…I've become numb to it.

"Finish it." She commands

I looked around for tools. To find that none are provided. 'This has happened before.'

I then reach for a satchel that is always hidden on my person. I quickly learned to always be prepared. I hold my tears at the thought of punishment that enforced that lesson.

I swallow and bring out some chalk. Getting started and filling out the circle. Finally complete, I step back. One of the 7 children on the wall is brought forward and lands in its center. The circle activates red magic arcs and falters.

Failure.

My mother holds out her hand to me. I don't dare to not take it. Dark red lightning arcs through my body. I grit my teeth and bear it. Looking her in the eyes. Defiance is one of the few acceptable emotions not deemed 'weak.'

This continues for a minute and she lets go of my hand. The ritual circle is clear and half-finished. I take out the chalk and complete it. Fixing several errors I had overlooked before. Another sacrifice, another failure, and this time it was bone-chilling cold that was the punishment.

I looked again…everything was right. The lines straight, the mathematical calculations- '...This is different from the circles I was studying.'

A very similar circle to what I had recently been commanded to study. I was so certain it was the same one. My mother's eyes glowed at her trap being realized.

So I sat, looked, and studied. Bring out a journal to stretch the circle and try to decode it. Stars to direct and act as focus points for power. Straight lines to connect point to point. Triangles to stabilize the magic. Spirals to amplify. Circles to loop, feed, and contain. Angles acting as levers and directors for Power.

I then studied the old tongue half-written along the 6th, 4th, and 3rd circles. 'Sets of 3 provide stability and completion, why are they not in order? What is the purpose? Evens for stability and odds for instability. The 3rd is out of place or the 4th and 6th need to be moved to another circle. It's incomplete…not simply as a mirror but the circle is faulty, to begin with.'

Mother watches patiently over my shoulder.

'Do I take this gamble?'

"Lady Mother, what is it that you wish for the circle to perform?"

The frozen chill takes me by surprise, "Figure it out."

'Not fair, not…don't show weakness, don't show weakness. Take the runes, what are they saying? Death, life, I see the symbol for…I think I need to turn a living human into a ghoul. Infectious? No. Singular servant, not battle fodder. Functional, obedient, and not much allowance for intelligence or independence.'

I look at the symbols and move to start the circle off to the side. It took a couple of tries and hours but next to the faulty circle lays a complete chalk version. I levitate one of the sacrifices into the center.

The circle activates and fails.

I'm set on fire and it retreats after a minute. Mother's magic heals the damage but does not numb the pain.

I look again. Triple-check my calculations, and retrace my steps. Everything is correct. 'If the ritual circle is correct, find out what else is faulty. Will the environment interfere? No. The dungeons are rich in death energy to harvest, the sun was falling when I started, and it's a new moon tonight.'

The land is not the problem. Guar's advice echoes in my memory, 'When hunting your prey, you won't always have the luxury of scouting the lay of the land or setting traps or ambushes. Sometimes it will be a chase or an upfront fight. At a time when it's purely your skills against your victim's, your tools will be the difference between life and death.'

I look and scan at the sacrifices, virgin children with Power, practically the pinnacle of selection for human sacrifices. The only thing that would make them better would be if they were Lords as well.

What was used to craft the circle? I take out my chalk and smell it… 'No, no, no Dark Damned no.'

If this was the chalk I made it would smell of bone dust and myrrh. Made along with other ingredients strongly associated with death and funerals…this was plain chalk weakened with sawdust…Not nearly strong enough to handle this level of magic.

I grip the useless tool in my grip and crush it to dust. From the corner of my vision, my mother's eyes glowed with interest. The sabotage was her doing then.

'I can't complete the circle without a medium. I can't-...Don't admit weakness. Adapt, conquer, survive. Weakness merits suffering. How can this…'

I look at the remaining 4 sacrifices.

My mother's lessons resound, 'All things have a price. What matters if you have the will to follow through with it and the cunning to lessen the cost.'

With Power, I rip the next screaming child off the wall and flip them so their head faces down and their neck is bared towards me.

'Even fate can be bartered with,' I take out a ritual dagger from my satchel. 'And blood is always an acceptable currency.'

Checking for imperfections, I find it laced with salt and sunflower oil to purify and dampen any necromantic properties. It would have rendered the sacrifice worthless. Worse it might have offended the Dark enough to lash out at me.

I store it away to be cleaned later and approach my Guardian. 'I know where he keeps a spare knife.'

A command rings out, "No."

I turn to face my mother fully and bow my head in subservience.

'Any other sharp instruments would be contaminated by the filth here…'

"At the end, when abandoned by everything. Trust your Power, it will never leave you for it is you. Even if it's what brings you to your end." My mother offers a kindness in repeating her words. A lesson imprinted near the very beginning.

'Adapt and overcome.' I approach the hanging child and wrap my hand in red shadows. The shadows shape into a claw, and I slash its throat. Feeling blood gush out, the veins tearing at the slightest touch, bone sliced, and flesh give way feeling goopy or slimy.

I hesitate, and the blood spills out wasted on the floor. 'Improvement. A few months ago this would have caused me to show weakness.' Quickly I pluck out the still-beating heart and hold it up in offering to the Dark for its favor. The Dark orb rises from my shadow and purrs as it accepts the blood offering and indulges in the spill on the floor.

My mother noticed my hesitation but seemed pleased at my quick thinking to turn it in my favor. So she stays her hand at my resistance training. Some tension loosens at her approval as I turn to the remaining 3 sacrifices.

I pull another child, it hangs upside down, it pleads, the words reach deaf ears, and I do not hesitate. Catching the waterfall of blood with my Power, I concentrate and shape it into the ritual circle. I falter a couple of times, trying to keep the complete circle in my head, but ultimately through sheer stubbornness, I succeed. It's laid on the stone floor, a few drops out of place, but not enough to disrupt the ritual. I summon the 6th sacrifice.

'If I fail here…there will be no more chances and I will be punished. I must succeed.'

The orb of Darkness that was nuzzling me while I prepared the ritual flexes and shifts. It spreads itself, pulsing and rippling encircling the circle like a snake with the head peering down into the gift. The sacrifice stares up in tears and terror, only making itself more appetizing to the minor elemental.

It strikes. A flood of darkness collapses on the ritual circle, blocking any form of indication of it working. I could feel the entity hum pleased, devouring the blood and soul of the sacrifice, and adding a few tweaks to the result. A loyalty clause, better reflexes, and preserved remains.

The snake-like elemental wraps around me and nuzzles into my neck. It communicates with me, "Look, pet for Pet." The drained grey corpse curtseys and awaits my orders. It heard my complaints about not having servants to aid me and provided.

It snuggles into me, "Treat?"

I look at the remaining sacrifice and decide.

I open my mouth and the snake crawls into my body. A deep chill overtakes my body as if heat and warmth were never welcomed. I can feel it wrap around my heart in an attempt at a hug and saps half a pint of blood from my body. Then it leaves.

Black sludgy shadows drip from my eyes, mouth, and fingertips. Condensing and wrapping around me. I can barely keep standing up. It supports me and hums in delight at the offering. Eventually, warmth slowly returns as the Dark vacates the physical vessel. It keeps hugging and holding me. I don't let it cover me completely, that's asking to be devoured, but I enjoy one of my only sources of affection.

I notice my mother has taken several steps towards me, her eyes wide, only to stop in place. My guardian appeared an arm's length away. His hand outstretched, before falling back to a respectful distance. I return my attention to the demanding elemental and urge it to return to its orb form. It complies and enjoys its preferred spot in the hollow of my neck.

I take my time petting and playing with the elemental, to the point of ignoring Mother. She can do nothing against an offshoot of her own Lord and Master. She can't harm or take action against my friend. She can't punish me either for indulging it. Eventually, I gain enough strength to move and nudge the orb back to its home.

I then kneel to my mother waiting for her dismissal. She waves me off, and Guardian stays closer than usual next to me. The ghoul servant follows.

The next day, I'm in a carriage to shadow one of my Mother's political meetings. For all the backstabbing, lying, ruinous gossip, and poison that lays within it goes by an innocent name such as a tea party. Someone catches my eye.

It was the 7th sacrifice. Happily riding the shoulders of a man. 'Her brother? Father? ' Her memories of her time with us are obviously erased. My mother states to me, demanding my attention, "When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Yesterday you were strong."

She nodded to the child we were passing, "Strong enough to make suffering unnecessary."

I look at the child and father happily reunited and disappearing into the crowds. I burn another lesson into my soul. This time with the warmth of victory.

I lurch off the bed and dry heave. The same hands hold my hair back. Armored gloves hold a cup of water. I grab and drop it. Too weak to even hold it.

The armored hands grab me before I can collapse and put me back into bed. One of the gauntlets is removed and the back of the hand touches my forehead. It feels refreshingly cool.

The hand moves back and my head is supported with a fresh cup of water poured down my throat.

My vision is blurry, my hearing nonexistent, but I clasp at Reynauld's hands, 'Stay. Please stay. I don't want to be alone.'

He stays.

One of my Vestals comes by with broth. Yet again, I'm too weak to even consume the liquid. I choke, and spill but their persistence helps get most of the broth down. My eyes close, and my ears can now catch some words.

"Ritual…Speed up…Cursed…"

Sleep overcomes me and I submerge into the Nightmare again.

The door slams shut behind me. I can't see, I can't hear, I can barely feel the blood rushing in my body. The lingering pain of lightning still coursing through me. I can't feel the floor when I twitch. It's only Dark, Darker, Darkness, and DeEpEr-

I shut my eyes against the madness and curl into myself. 'When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Grow stronger. I failed. I failed. I failed. I hate this room!'

I cry and clutch at any part of me just to feel something. Shadows encroach. The Darkness deepens. I can't look away. It looks back. I scream. Everything twists and turns into madness.

The door slams shut. I failed again. 'I'm scared, I'm scared I don't want to be locked in the Dark Room. Not Again. Please, I'm sorry!'

The darkness deepens. I clutch my clothing. Ripping and tearing it. It's patient. It watches. As I weaken to madness…it consumes. And I lose myself again.

The door slams shut. My tears are dry. They won't help. Begging won't help. Tears won't help. Weakness won't help. I stare at the Darkness. It stares back. I falter and hold myself. I can almost make out the wHisPheRs- My mind turns inside out and I can make out patterns in the layers of darkness.

The door slams shut. I try to fight and use my Power to call light. The Dark takes offense. It crashes down, crushes the light, and consumes me. It is not gentle. Tugging at my mind, body, and soul. When I'm fetched it takes 4 days to recover enough to move again.

The door slams shut. I still and meditate in the Dark. Keeping Power enforced around my skin like a shell. The Dark watches from within itself probing at me. I look. It looks back. It finds me wanting. I last only a handful of seconds before the Darkness overtakes my protection and my MiNd BrEAks.

The door slams shut. I center myself, meditate, and cut my hand. The Darkness waits and looks. I lay it face down on the floor, sending the intent of ' Offering, tribute.'

The Darkness absorbs the blood with no sound or sight, other than a lack of heat to indicate the blood was accepted. It probes at the wound but my Power is concentrated as a shield there. 'It's important to enforce boundaries.'

It answers back not with words but with feelings, curious and testing, "Wish?"

I wasn't prepared for it. 'I do not know.'

It waits. It is patient. It will be here for an eternity and these monkeys can be so impatient. The Darkness envelops me. I listen and begin to AdApT.

The door slams shut. I center myself and provide the offering. The Dark accepts and asks, "Wish?"

Again I answer, "I do not know."

It stirs, unsettled, "Humans always want."

"I do not know," I confirm.

The Darkness rumbles and envelopes me. I hold my ground, not rejecting it but letting it settle around, on, and in me. I tune my Power to it and adapt. This time my mind transitions to madness peacefully.

The door slams shut. I center myself, offer tribute, and wait. The Dark accepts and asks for the third time, "Wish?"

I hesitate, still uncertain, and pondering.

I get the feeling of a tilted head and confusion, ribbons and silk wrap around me and tighten as if they were nooses. It is insistent. "Wish?"

'What do I want? What do I want more than anything?'

"I WANT A FRIEND!" I scream into the abyss, into the darkness.

It recoils and turmoil happens in the many layers and depths of shadow and abyss. The Dark ponders, "Humans want Power. They always WANT POWER. Not you, Why?"

"This will be part of the cost." I insist. There is always a price, I want to lessen it.

It twists on itself, breaks into millions of pieces, reabsorbs the droplets, and repeats the process. Churning and finding, "Acceptable."

There is no point in lying to something that can read my soul and break it on a whim, "I want a friend because I'm lonely. I want a companion who will be with me until the end. I'm young and I'll grow in Power with or without you."

It roils in agitation at my statement but lets me continue.

"I want someone to love and who will love me in return. I want a friend who stays, unswayed by others, that I can help out and spoil and it reciprocates. We act in Good Faith with each other. That's my wish."

'This can go horribly wrong. I need some protection. A clause of good faith will force it to be upfront about the costs and other hidden fees. That it will be compelled to act in my favor.'

It surrounds and envelopes me. Testing me. It will only respect strength.

I don't fight against the current, simply floating like a leaf in a rushing river. Letting the darkness rush in and around me. Drowning everything that made up my meager existence. Filling me deeper than what I knew was possible.

It tests my will, my Power stands up and looks in it. It looks back. I can feel madness encroach. I've adapted. Gently I embrace the greater understanding and insight. For sanity to be maintained it must be given up.

I look in wonder at nothing and everything. Everywhere and nowhere. The beginning before it was known and the end as it should be. Cold, gaping, and ever-hungry for more. Coveting the Light's creation and envy fueling hatred of Brother-Foe-Rival. Everything else is beyond my comprehension, accepted, and allowed to pass through unkept.

I look, accept, and embrace. Eventually, the flood subsides into a whirlpool around me. All that has ended and all that will end, beyond time and space.

A small droplet of infinity breaks off from the Greater Whole. It answers my wish. Still curled into myself, I reach with both hands and cup it like something precious. I guide the droplet, the orb beginning to gain consciousness, to my chest. It finds its way to the hollow of my neck and purrs at its new favorite spot.

I poured Love, Affection, Trust, and Mine into it. The Child of the Greater Whole, of one of the Two Origin Powers, reciprocates and purrs into me. We worked out a contract that boiled down to I can call on it so long as I can feed it. Finally, finally. It's been so long. I'm not alone anymore.

The door slams open.

"Ritual…Get the salt!"

"Flame…"

"We need Humans-!"

"Sacrilege!"

"...It won't work otherwise…"

"Set her down gently, I'll prepare-"

I wake up.

I can see a ritual circle next to me. Dark in origin, crude in make. 'Not the Caretaker then. His pride wouldn't allow such shoddy work.'

There are steps and legs around me. Multiple people surround me, yet I'm not alarmed but rather comforted by them. 'Weird.'

Gauntlets gently squeeze one of my hands. I squeeze back. All movement stops.

I struggle to sit up, and 'flint, gunpowder, Dismas.' helps me sit up straight. I take in the barracks. Half of it was cut off by the curtains I sent the leper, giving this area some privacy. Taillebois and Villehardian are feeding a Sacred Flame in the center of the…Dark circle.

'Why in the Dark Damned Hells are they using a sacred Light artifact in a Dark ritual?'

Reynauld is kneeling by my bedside, his hand has yet to leave mine. Dismas is supporting me. Stafford is with the Vestals, triple-checking the red circle. Poussin is bleeding into a cauldron at the midway point between those in the circle and Courteney with Aguilon who are beside a large chalkboard with the sketch of the circle beside me. They are close but on the other side of the cut-off room from me. Louet and Seguier stand guard near the entrance. The dog breaks the silence by barking and bounding toward me. Succeeding in its task, giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

A laugh rings out. I'm very surprised it's from me. Coarse and painful, but a laugh. 'I wish I could pet the damn thing…but priorities.'

I studied the circle. I read its purpose. And I am very upset.

"Why?"

"The curse my lady," Reynauld answers and looks me in the eyes. Stalwart in his purpose. His helmet is off so I can read his face.

"I…we need you back. You shouldn't suffer. You took that curse for us, didn't you? Back when you protected us from that Devil."

'He's not wrong.' I look at him, displeasure clear in my features, and garner enough strength to slap him.

His head snaps to the side and the room stills again.

"How d-dare you." I croak out and call out my blood to wet my throat enough to speak. "How dare you insult me in such a manner."

He turns towards me shocked and scared trying to replay what went wrong.

"I took him on because he was far beyond you. I fought to protect you because you were my men, on my orders, doing my work. Yes what came through formed into a Great Curse, but if that hit any of you…You'd all be dead! And that death would have been tortuous and drawn out."

I raise my hand again…and let it drop.

"How dare you insult my sacrifice on your behalf by making it null and void. My weakness invited this suffering, but I'll overcome it like many others before." I glare at Reynauld and every hero who took part in this misguided plot.

"For someone-" I hack blood into a hand, causing the crusader to startle and reach for me. "For someone so devout, your faith falters rather quickly. I'm your Lord. Never forget that."

I cup the blood in front of my neck and the orb of Dark pops out and delights in the offering. I then direct it to consume the ritual circle, leaving the fire and heroes untouched. The Vestals shriek in surprise and jump back. The Occultist watches in amazement and studies the flowing Darkness.

I call the orb of Light to shine and comfort the Vestals. The Occultist should be fine but I don't trust the mischievous Dark orb to not nip or torment the women. 'Mine.'

"Let me make this clear to all of you. You were bound here to serve and die on my behalf. But if I want your death. I will order it. I will order you to go on suicidal missions and still expect you to return. You are here for a reason after all. You are not allowed to die unless I give permission. Am I clear?"

The room spins and I faint before they respond. The Nightmare drags me down.

A splash of wine hits me in the face, followed by a slap. "Y-you you whore's daughter. How d-dare-" He goes to take another sip, finds it empty, and it gives a clang as it bounces off of my head.

The Gambler Adventurer screams more obscenities while being handed a fresh goblet from the scantily clad Grave Digger.

I view the scene with some amusement, 'Dear Old Father and his Mistress. Now where is the horror…oh I-' My ghost becomes immersed in my child self.

I stare him down as he grabs me by my collar and hauls me up to his eye level. 'Mother is far scarier than you.'

He punches me in the stomach and drops me. I land gracefully and say nothing. It makes him even angrier.

Another glass is splashed into my face. This makes me blink and miss the throat punch. The dark orb growls and hisses beneath my skin.

'Mother forbade me from murdering Father. Down.' I hack and command internally knowing that if I let it out, I won't stop until the job is finished.

I didn't have to.

Guardian storms from the hallway in a whirlwind. Punching the knife from my Father's hand, once disarmed he proceeded to pummel his face in. The Digger tried to attack Guardian. He sucker-punches her, before tying her up with rope. Knocking out a few teeth in the process.

The Bounty Hunter rolls back his shoulders and returns to making Father's face as red as his blood-colored hair. I relax and watch. I should have stopped him.

Mother, nearing the end of her pregnancy, comes in and rips him away from her husband-consort. She spits in the Gambler's direction, she does not respect him. She does not love him. The only reason he is honored as her husband-consort is that he won the position in a bet and debts must be honored.

She pays little mind to the sniveling Digger trying to hide. The more whores that have his attention the less he'll demand of her bed. Not like she's faithful in return. It's only natural that a Lord has multiple bed warmers. Her favorite is being held against the wall for attacking above his station.

She takes in the situation, I quickly bend into a respectful bow before her and wait for her command.

She said nothing, looking at me in disappointment. She takes the Bounty Hunter to her office for discipline.

I don't help either of the adults in the room, as I quietly make my way to eavesdrop on Mother and Guardian.

"I do not regret that. She is my charge, my child! Whatever your punishment I would do it again a thousand times." His voice, damaged and underused, sounds certain and strong.

"...So be it, Garrett." My mother responds.

'Who's Garrett?'

Guardian screams. For the first time in months, I hurt hearing someone scream. I curl into myself, my fear and suffering providing enough enticement for the Dark orb to come out. I nuzzle and hold it trembling, clutching it as I used to the dolls that have long since disappeared from my room.

I'm too scared to move. To interfere. There is nothing I can do against my mother. She's too strong. There's nothing I can-

"Still so?"

"Even thus, for my wee lass." Guardian, Garrett, answers. I now know his name.

He screams again.

I sit. I listen. There's nothing I can do.

"For my daughter? ...She is quite the seductress to make even your stone-cold heart melt. Very well. You can't stay here, I would have to kill you. Rather I have a mission for you. Don't look so sad. You will be paving the way for her future and survival." My mother laughs, "Though before you leave-"

I know where this is heading and I wait out the time it takes my mother to have her fill of him. Eventually, broken, exhausted, and withdrawn he is sent out. I rush quickly to my room to grab a pendant. A small wooden thing, that I've made in secret for yuletide. Only the runework and general shape are finished. It's crude, with half-finished details and not painted but-

I run.

Eventually, I make it to the side entrance as Guardian is putting the finishing touches on his saddlebags. I run and cling to his leg. Crying as I hold him. With a hand, he pats my head. We say nothing. There is nothing either of us can do.

Eventually, my tears dry and I pass the pendant into his hand. He takes it and gently places it in a hidden satchel, the same way he taught me. He hugs me and signs that, "He loves me and goodbye."

I sign back the same and try to put on a brave face as he rides into the night.

Riding off was someone who held me when insanity and pain broke me. That whispered words of comfort and encouragement despite the cost of pain. The wisdom and clarity when I couldn't understand my mother's lessons. The bedtime stories to distract from the horrors of the day. The lessons in hand-to-hand combat, so I could preserve my Power in fighting. Some tips and tricks of his trade to better survive. The sign language so we could communicate for hours and aid me in asking for help from other mute or deaf afflicted Classes.

He was riding off. I felt lonelier than ever. The Dark orb remains silent, supping on my pain.

It wouldn't be until I was 12 that I would see him again. Where he would come in a whirlwind of rage once more and protect me. Taking me to the best he could do for safety when he was still climbing the ranks. The scent of frankincense, sage, and salt incense loosens the grip of the Nightmare.

This scene has ended. I could return to Waking Reality or- A puddle of Darkness appears off to the side. I go R.

Warning End, Warning End: Let's Get Some Good Clean Bloodshed in Here!

Hansal's limping form and smiles hiding tears rush past me. The Great Church with the screams behind closed doors. These memories passed me, another task for another day. I fal into the rabbit hole, with only one thing in my mind.

"Where is that Son of a Bitch who cursed me?"

My mind palace comes into view. I scowl looking at the damage. Tears do nothing. Sadness does nothing. Anger and spite have seen me through many hopeless situations. I march towards the DaMnEd BaStArD who dared to invade my Mind and Soul.

An infestation of skeletons and ghouls has taken place in the courtyard.

N.

I call the orbs of Light and Dark to stand by my side, while the orb of Fire expands and delights in the kindling. Expanding into a wildfire that only left the manifestation of my mind and the pulsing web rooted throughout this place undamaged. The web merely shudders, ticklish at the best of the minor fire elemental. I move on. There are more immediate concerns at the moment.

A goliath of the skeletal Man-At-Arms bellows at me. With a flick of a wrist, it's flung out of my way and is reduced to cinders. I march past my gates, to the grand entrance hall. There the Avatar of the Necromancer Lord waits.

I reach out and get a sense of the state of my palace. My smile is all teeth and everything erupts in flames. The Light orb bursts into a fury above, radiating holy light in a pale imitation of the Sun. The Dark orb jumps into my shadows and lurks beyond the light's reach. Anything that tries to ambush or stealth in the Darkness will not be coming out again.

The Necromancer responds. Casting curses and summoning shades of souls he has Harvested. An army rises beneath our feet. A collection of centuries' worth of bodies and captured souls erupt from the ground grabbing and clawing at the surface.

"Trash is still trash no matter how many you summon." Fire rises along with the skeletons in a shockwave. Incinerating most of them only leaves the shield wall of Bone Defenders and Captains still standing. The light shines above weakening all Unholy creations, providing damage over time, and slightly restoring my mana. With a quarter of my mana pool spent on that one shockwave, it is a boon.

A vision impacts me as I catch my breath. Defeated, cold, facing an unmentionable horror. Alone, surrounded by corpses and the hopeless. I jump back on instinct.

A grisly arm reaches for me. A mish-mash of tentacles and sharpened bones. It catches me by the ribs and flings me into the wall. Into the darkened corners, where my orb greets and cushions my impact into the wall. It gladly absorbs the blood knocked out of my lungs from the attack and impact.

The dark orb questions, "More crunchy snacks?"

My mad smile all teeth and blood has not once been lost during this encounter. My eyes glow red with Power and excitement at the challenge. My laughter is the only correct response to pain. I send back, 'Feel free to devour all he sends, and if you can pull from the fringes or their shadows…'

I trail off and the Dark Orb is quick on the take and sends back malicious glee. It picks at the edges of the horde. Forcing the leftover army into the center of the room and directly where the effects of the light orb are strongest.

The Necromancer Lord is waiting for whatever soldiers he sent into the shadows to ambush and finish me. I look him dead on, flip him the bird, and call down a Smite from the Light orb onto the remains of the horde centered on protecting him. That left me with 30% of my mana pool.

The damage to him must have triggered something. The half-dozen of his weakened guards were quickly replaced and bolstered by another wave of the bone rabble, soldiers, and guards. Enough to refill the room.

The Dark orb needs no prompting and returns to munching on its 'crunchy snacks'. I call the weapon I'm best at handling and a mace appears in one hand with a book belted to my waist. I use Adrenaline Rush and dive into the fray.

My physical stats are decent for a Lord of my level. However, I can trust that when my dexterity falters, my luck will more than make up for it. I weaved and danced through the horde. Their attacks were constantly dodged, made into barely glancing blows, or only connected to another skeleton. I only swung my mace to trip or falter another skeleton into one another. Those who fell went below the shadows and into the waiting darkness beneath my feet.

The rabble didn't last 5 minutes under the false sun, and the soldiers were quickly faltering as well. The defenders were a problem though.

I sidestep an ax, switch to a dagger, and perform a duelist advance to gain risposte. I call the mace to replace the dagger and sidestep another ax while knocking the defender to the ground. Where the shadows swarmed up and swallowed it.

I throw down a blinding gas to buy me a few moments to breathe. My smile does not falter as I get my breathing under control and smile at the necromancer. I can feel him trying to call the Darkness against me.

The Land will not listen to him. The Darkness will not answer him. I will not allow it. Here, in my Palace, I'm not simply a Lord, I am a Ruler. Whatever Power he may have in the Waking Reality is halved in my domain. He wil L.

Without the Darkness to aid him, the specialist is, for all intents and purposes, a one-trick pony. He calls up the third wave to replace the ones that I destroyed. I roll back my shoulders, heft up my mace and-

The doors to the entrance are slammed open. This catches me by surprise, I turn around to figure out who-

3 swords penetrated me in my moment of distraction. 2 through my gut and the last one went through a lung, next to my heart. I cough and slump as blood rains down from my body into the Darkness below.

"Nooo!" Reynauld screams as the party he gathered stares stunned. They quickly rush forward, desperate to save me in time. A beauty in aggression as they desperately hack and slash the horde. But barely making a dent and getting battered for their efforts. They are too low-leveled for this battle.

"Home? Consume? Is it Time?" The Darkness has tasted my blood and knows that I've been dealt a fatal blow. It crawls up me, ready and eager to consume me. The one that brings an end to all things, that absorbs all that dies. It feels its shade of Death ready to reap me. With this, I would never be able to leave it again.

Defiance rises in me, as I lose feeling in my limbs. I puppet myself and repel the intrusions. The soldiers turn into dust by their swords and I stand tall as blood pours out of me.

"Not today old friend." I stand at Death's Door and reach with both hands outstretched to the Light.

The Dark knows what I have planned and lunges upwards, trying to consume me before I can finish my offer. Only my hands can be seen from the dark cocoon before the Light above blasts it back to the earth. The Greater Whole of the Light looks through its minor shard and waits for my offer, it communes, a beat of silence, and acceptance.

It shines a halo around my heroes including the Occultist amongst them and empowers them for this battle. Effectively letting them fight as Level 4s with fully upgraded gear and skills. I use another Adrenaline Rush to stem the bleeding and the tides turn.

The Darkness slinks off and goes to the Necromancer. It sulks at not merely the lost meal, but the STOLEN opportunity to Claim me fully. It hates sharing, the time was right, and the LIGHT stole its PRIZE! It writhes in anger and empowers the Necromancer, allowing it to call on it once more and ignoring me. I will gain no more aid from it for this battle.

Seguier's hound Harries through the horde and rushes to my side to guard me. Snapping and snarling at the undead while dodging their attacks. Whips of tentacles are called through a rip in reality by Stafford to cull the unholy horde around the dog and me. The web interlaced with my Palace stirs at Stafford's actions.

Reynauld and Dismas quickly advance through the ranks of the unholy using Holy Lance and Duelist's Advance respectively. Possin and Seguier stand guard over the vestals. Flail and club in hand at fending off the skeletons. Taillebois and Villehardian with hands outstretched both cast Divine Grace on me. Taking me off Death's Door and restoring a third of the internal damage. I focus a pulse of healing magic to finish the rest. The soft holy light came out of my closing wounds as a luminous fog.

'I don't know if I want to kiss you or kill you myself for coming here. We'll see if we live long enough for that to matter.'

Reynauld and Dismas catch up to me, their breathing ragged from their haste. I use Target Whistle on the Necromancer Lord and bash away an attack from the panting hound.

I reach out with my bond towards Possin, Seguier, Taillebois, and Villehardian. "Concentrate on the Necromancer Lord, the horde is soul-linked with him. If he falls, so will they. We will be making our way to get close as well." They will attack him from afar and provide range support.

I nudge Stafford to draw his attention. Once I have it, I give a slight tug as a warning and then yank him above the horde towards us. He screams as he flies overhead, barely able to keep ahold of his skull. I move to brace myself and catch him in a princess carry with his head supported by the crock of my elbow. This caused me to skid back a few inches until my back was close to Reynauld's. Dismas is at our side forming a triangle facing the outward horde. The two complete parties have formed, it's time to kill this parasite.

A/N: You know what? cliffhanger. We'll finish the fight in the next chapter. I need to review and recalculate Lenore's Stats to make sure everything is on the up and up. This chapter took 2 weeks to finish because I kept getting sick at the Dark scenes, which were half of what I had in my head. For Mother Adamos Arc alone! Don't know if those will pop up in the future but these were the most crucial events. So for those that took my warning let me tone down and summarize what happened.

Due to the Night Terror Curse and being forced into a magical coma, Lenore is forced to relive some of her memories. This chapter had 4 of them from her childhood when her mother was still alive.

The 1st was her mom desensitizing her to graphic/horrifying deaths using every servant that showed her a bit of kindness. With every death, she says, " When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Grow stronger." This is a theme that will persist in Lenore's story and a pivotal part of her development. Her mother is starting to condition and isolate her.

The 2nd is Lenore showing that she has been learning the Dark Arts and enduring resistance *cough* torture *cough* training. She's been conditioned to the point where she can reliably perform human sacrifices for her self-preservation and adapt to being sabotaged. With the lesson imparted, "At the end, when abandoned by everything. Trust your Power, it will never leave you for it is you. Even if it's what brings you to your end."

At the end of the scene, she is able to spare the final sacrifice, and Mother Adamos rewards her by showing them alive and reunited with their family. "When you are weak you suffer. When you are weak others will suffer. Yesterday you were strong…Strong enough to make suffering unnecessary." This enforced the pursuit of Power and strength.

The 3rd scene was one of the ways Lenore was punished for failure. Locked in a room devoted to the Dark. Eventually, after breaking up multiple times she's able to make a pact with the Origin Dark, and this results in her receiving the Dark Orb as an elemental. This is where Labrador Dark Orb comes from, it's crucial throughout her childhood for survival and companionship. Those with the blessing of Love do horribly alone and a child would be desperate to remedy that. A miscalculation on Mother Adamos's part.

The 4th scene was Guardian laying the smackdown on Lenore's abusive alcoholic father. An introduction to him and his mistress. He's not important, the mistress will be later on in Lenore's life. I love Protective Guardian but as I warned in the summary, "Sadly all good deads must be paid in pain and death." Mother Adamos interferes and takes him to her room, to torture, rape, and then dismiss him from the property for striking above his station. This all happens with Lenore eavesdropping and finally learns Guardian's true name.

Guardian is willing to endure any pain and punishment to protect his Goddaughter and Mother Adamos knows this. She sends him off so she doesn't have to kill him and for him to garner enough independent Power to aid Lenore in the future. She knows she's not going to survive giving birth. (It's mentioned in the side series.) Lenore can catch him before he leaves to give him a half-done shoddy pendant and say goodbye. Lenore mourns her last source of comfort and protection in this cruel house.

While Lenore is suffering through the Night Terror, her heroes are scrambling to save her. Unlike the last time, when she was laid in a coma, where no one could touch her unless she was conscious. Here is where those social stats come into play.

When she is weakened her Power repeals anyone with less than 80 Obedience, Loyalty, and Affection from even coming near her. If they meet that standard they can be near her but they can't safely touch her. When they are a 100 across the board they can be near her and tend to her. They have complete loyalty and devotion towards their Lord and her Power recognizes that fact while choosing to trust them. Everyone in that quarantined room met that 80 cut-off point and everyone that her Soul allowed into her Palace was at maxed social points.

I'm probably going to write an omake about how the heroes found this out. I need some wholesome after this chapter. Also drama, this won't have consequences at all.

Everyone else was enjoying the festival, it was important that Lenore's heroes make an appearance on her behalf and there was nothing they could do after all.

That's a wrap I suppose. Caio. Light, I need a hot shower.