Chapter 32

Comorragh city of twisted spires, Comorragh city where dreams went to die. The Dark City was unusually lively today, the streets brimming with battling gangs and Kabal duelling in the skies above. The weakest gutter trash were torn apart while the strong exulted in their triumph, giddy on the rush of victory. These festivals of blood and carnage were regular events here, sometimes spawned by distant triumphs of the great lords but mostly triggered merely by the build-up of tension and bloodlust in the population.

Not everyone was taking part however; deep below the fortress of the Impaled Heart Kabal a great lord was touring his dungeons. Athra J'rect was leisurely making his way along, enjoying the sight of the slaves cowering before him. Athra wore his armour at all times now; until he could secure the services of another Incubus bodyguard his skin was not safe. Athra was not walking alone though; limping alongside him was the Haemonculi Vl'hyas, his hunchback forcing him to awkwardly skip along. Trailing behind them on a thick chain was a female Mon-Keigh slave, bound and gagged. This slave was unusual for the animal's skin was unmarked by whip or knife and her eyes knew no pain or poison. Athra had been keeping this slave isolated, saving it for a special purpose like a prize sow for slaughter.

As they walked Vl'hyas said, "Why are we down here? There are revels aboard that we could be sampling."

Athra shook his head and said, "Let them have their banal pleasures, I have seen it all before. I have a much more novel experience in mind."

Vl'hyas looked at him and said, "An expensive one, it cost you an entire fleet."

Athra waved away his concerns, "It was only ships and servants, I can always get more. My star is in the ascendant in Comorragh, the Impaled Heart Kabal has lost little."

Vl'hyas didn't sound so Blaise as he growled, "You may have lost little but I lost many fine specimens, included my prized Gene-Bulk!"

Athra's brow raised but the Haemonculi was an ally, not a servant, he could well offer his services elsewhere. Athra placated him by saying, "I will compensate you for your losses, a few raids and all will be remedied."

Vl'hyas snorted in disbelief but asked, "And what of the target? The Mon-Keigh that got away."

Athra shrugged and replied, "Gene-Bulks are all the same, I've killed scores. One more does not interest me. Besides I can always kill it another day."

With that he paused, stopping at a plain and non-descript door. He looked at it for a moment, then sent a psychic impulse to open the cell and reveal the interior. The door slid away and before them was a dank and dim cell, bereft of comforts or beauty. In one corner a small female was crouched, with her knees drawn up to her face and her head buried in her crossed arms. She was softly weeping and banging her head on her crossed arms but her lank, stringy and blonde hair gave her away. It was T'selia and she was in a terrible state. Gone was her proud armour and staff, along with her pride. Now she wore only a short robe, stained with filth and tears and her arms were marked by self-inflicted scratches.

The desecration of her body was shocking but the wounds to her psyche were far more telling. Her mental discipline had collapsed, the walls of her mind cracked and leaking. Her emotions were spilling out of her, psychically projected by her failing soul, whether she wanted them to or not. Even standing outside the room the despair, horror and hopelessness was overwhelming, making the cell reek with the wail of the damned.

Athra gathered himself up and stepped within, followed by Vl'hyas and the slave. The Haemonculi swiftly secured the Mon-keigh, binding it hand and foot to rings in the floor so it couldn't move. The Archon however approached T'selia and softly knelt beside her saying, "Farseer?"

T'selia didn't look up but whispered, "No more…"

Athra gently asked, "What was that?"

T'selia sobbed, "No more… I am no longer a Farseer. My wisdom was but a cup of water and have poured it out on the sand. My soul is broken, smashed when my soul-stone was destroyed. I have lost my foresight; I am blind to the Skein."

Athra said consolingly, "But you are still alive"

With that she looked up, revealing her tear stained face. She projected a wave of bitterness and spat, "Is this life? Is it?"

Athra nodded saying, "I understand your suffering."

T'selia shuddered and said, "How can you live like this? I can feel my life slipping away, like sand spilling between my fingers. My life-force is being ripped away, one strand at a time. She Who Thirsts is gnawing upon my soul, soon all that will be left of me will be a withered husk."

Athra explained, "It is the bane of our existence, we feel it every moment of every day."

Anger flared in T'selia's aura and she spat, "I won't live like this, you have to help me. Help me find a new soul-stone, take it fresh or tear one from another, I no longer care."

Athra shook his head and stated, "It won't work."

T'selia's aura filled with rage and her eyes crackled with power, her hand lashed out and a sudden telekinetic force shoved Athra away, throwing him to the floor. Vl'hyas cowered in a corner and the slave thrashed in its bonds as the former Farseer rose to her feet. As power shone from her eyes she cried, "Do not think that because I have lost my foresight that I am powerless. I still have my might; I could crush you right now! Send you to the Dark Gods before I go."

Athra struggled on the floor and he cried, "I say nothing you do not already know: your soul is too damaged. Even if I could find a soul-stone you couldn't bond with it: that part of yourself is already gone. But I never said that I wouldn't help you."

"Help me?" snarled T'selia as her power ebbed and she fell to her knees beside the slave with despair flooding her aura, "There's no help for me, my soul is being consumed piece by piece and there is nothing that can stop it now."

Athra gathered himself up and patted down his armour, then he drew a thin and sharp knife from his belt saying, "But maybe there is."

T'selia eyed the knife warily and said, "End it quickly then? Send me to my damnation fast rather than slow?"

Athra knelt beside her and shook his head saying, "No, there is a third way. A way to make someone else suffer in your place, to let another endure the attention of She Who Thirsts."

T'selia looked confused, but hesitant hope tinged her aura and she glanced at the slave saying, "It's impossible, I am not like you. My soul is being gnawed on and my life force slips through my fingers moment by moment. I am blind in the dark and I can't see the way."

"Allow me to show you the path," said Athra kindly as he took T'selia's hand and placed the knife in it. Then he guided her hand towards the Mon-Keigh, the animal's eyes widened in terror and it tried to back away but the chains held it still. T'selia looked unsure and said, "I don't understand…"

"Shhh," whispered Athra as he gently guided her hand, "Trust me."

Together they leaned in and then with one quick slice they cut an arm, letting a trickle of blood flow freely. The slave wailed and tears flowed as the unmarked skin was broken for the first time. Athra leaned back and took the knife as he said, "Can you feel it? Can you feel the attention of She Who Thirsts begin to draw away?"

T'selia paused and then a strange look crossed her eyes and she said, "Yes… yes, I can feel it. The gnawing on my soul has stopped, the hunger of She Who Thirsts has moved on. I…I, I feel like I was drowning under an ocean but now I have broken the surface."

Athra nodded but then he grinned and said, "But there's more. Reach out with your psychic senses, feel the pain all around you, feel the strength of it. It can rejuvenate you; it can fill your soul and replace all that you have lost."

T'selia looked confused and said, "How? How do I do that?"

Athra explained softly, "It's just energy, let it flow through you, let it suffuse every inch of you. You can feel it can't you? Feel it coursing through your nerves, tingling across your skin, making every cell of your body dance. The pain, it's like lightning, firing your soul to new heights, telling you that you're still alive. Feel the power of it at your fingertips, just waiting to be seized. It's yours… take it!"

T'selia's face filled with wonder as new life poured into her body, leeching off the pain to nourish her soul. For a second T'selia was once more who she had been, a vibrant being capable of feeling joy, but then the Mon-Keigh's blood stopped flowing and the tears settled down into a faint whimpering. T'selia's eyes widened and she cried in desperate terror, "No, it's stopping already! She Who Thirsts is coming back, my life-force is draining away again… Why isn't it lasting? Why has it stopped?!"

Athra knew that disappointment too well and explained sadly, "The effect only lasts as long the pain keeps flowing, as soon as it ceases your reprieve ends."

But T'selia wasn't listening; instead she grabbed the knife from Athra's hand and threw herself at the slave with a crazed hunger in her eyes, a mad desperate need consuming her. Her knife struck over and over, drawing blood and terrified screams as she shrieked wildly, "Cry for me, you have to cry! You have to suffer! I need more, I need it all, all you have and more! I need your tears, I need your fear, I need your pain!"

The Archon stood up and slowly stepped back, joining Vl'hyas at the corner of the room. Together they watched the former Farseer as she descended into a frenzy of wild stabs, berserk cries of madness ripping from her lips as she was lost in unrestrained bloodlust. It was an eerie sight, the once poised and controlled T'selia lost to her savage and cruel nature, no better than the gutter trash that infested Comorragh.

Vl'hyas winced at a particularly brutal stab and said, "This is awful… the blade work is so crude and so simplistic. There is no artistry to this, a child could do better."

Athra shook his head and remarked happily, "You're missing the point, close your eyes my friend and feel the emotions filling the room."

The Haemonculi did as bidden and he felt the psychic bleed-through, T'selia's emotions were filled with rampant exultation and undiluted ecstasy. She was lost in her sensations, like a child discovering a new toy and just as pure. She was projecting the untainted ecstasy of a first kiss, the thundering heartbeat of a first embrace and the towering passion of meeting one's first lover all rolled into one. The two Drukhai vicariously drank in the sensations, leeching off T'selia's bliss and tasting it for themselves.

Vl'hyas nodded in understanding and said, "It feels like the first time I myself held a blade, the simple pleasure of discovery and the thrill of the new."

"I had become so jaded, so inured to the routine and banal," explained Athra as he sampled the elation emanating from the former Farseer, "But now I can do it all over again. Experience afresh every cut and slice, every poison and excruciation, every denigration and mutilation. She will become a willing mistress of pain and suffering and through her, I can experience it all over again."

The two sank back and simply enjoyed the sight of T'selia, throwing herself into a twisted darkness from which she would never return. Then after a moment Athra remarked, "You know, this has all turned out so much better than I could ever have hoped for."

The Storm Heralds will return in Captum Ante