Shadow of the Abyss

"Does it trouble you?" Raven asked in a flat voice, resting on her side beside her Master. Nothing seemed to bother her; he was noticing. "I don't really understand. Is it wrong for you to bed… this traitor? She made the bet. She signed the contract.

She has even read the contract. Twice. I don't understand why you are brooding."

He had told her everything. From the time he had awoken in House Nier to his battle against Soul Exhaustion to now as they lay side by side. Raven never interrupted, waiting for the story to end.

"It's morally wrong…"

Raven blinked. And he could almost glimpse scorn before it pulled away. "Wrong? Master, she made the bet and lost! Who the hell bets their body? Better yet, who the hell makes a bet with someone who screw them over once?

She's a bloody idiot. And as far as I'm concerned, she should be killed for her stupidity. There mere fact she has to spread her legs for you ought to be her honor."

Altair laughed; she really believed that, didn't she? "Medusa says it's wrong."

"She is only sensitive because of what happened to her," Raven assured him. "I can't imagine what she's going through in that head of hers, but I know she aches. Aches for others that share the same fate as her."

There was a bit of wisdom in her words that surprised Altair. 'The Hollowing, it seemed, has matured her,' he thought, and he said. "When did you get so wise?"

"My Master demands it, so I shall adapt."

"But is it worth it, Medusa leaving?"

"She won't leave.' Of that, Raven seemed sure. "She is trying to test you. Test your resolve. She knows the Ninth Form isn't something one can resist. You and the Vale King are one. And as far as I'm concerned, you have not crossed that line."

"And when I do?" The words left a nasty sting in his mouth.

Raven was silent, and Altair could only sigh, closing his eyes. When his eyes opened, they were cold as steel. He stood erect and left, Raven hot on his heel. He found Medusa on the bailey. She hurried to her feet, half into a bow, when he lifted her head.

"I shall do as I please. Whether you like it or not. Elena made her bed. And I shall warm it. As for you." he did not wait for Medusa to interrupt him. "As for you, for your disapproval.

I have heard of it. If you wish to leave, you may leave. I promised you I shall never harm you. And I suspect…" he eyed her softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek, softer than the smoothest silk. "And I suspect I will not be able to control myself around you. Your beauty outshines even Elena, rivaling Tasha or Raven."

She flushed, though she could not say why. Her feet backed away, away from his touch. 'I…I…' she stopped, bowing her head. "I understand… And… I won't leave… You need me. Need me to make sure you don't break that line."

Altair was surprised. "But you said…"

"I know what I said," Medusa said, regaining her composure. "But you need me. That devil on your shoulder is too enticing for you." Then, softer beneath her breath, she muttered, "too enticing for any man."

Altair grinned, thinking about something. "Are you saying you wish to join me—" he stopped when he saw how bright her face had become. He wasn't sure what was redder, a cooked lobster or Medusa.

"I will not!" And she ran, to Altair's amusement.

"Master, can I go play with Atelia?"

"Of course!" And with that, she left, skipping away much like a girl now rather than the woman she was.

He smiled, and then his lips became a thin line, icy like death. He made for the dungeons, waving to the guards that stood to attention the moment he appeared.

"We greet the Duke-Hier!"

Altair waved them to rest. "Bring me to Conall," he demanded.

Two of the guards exchanged glances and nodded. They opened the cellar door and led him down the creaking stairs. Torches fluttered, breathing in a gust of wind, illuminating the harsh-stoney dungeon. The dungeon smelt of rotten fish and soured blood. Pungent and hard.

They led him further along the corridor, past several gaunt, emaciated men and women trapped in strange contraptions, which he was sure were for torture. He could almost hear Tasha begging him to use them on someone, guilty or innocent.

Conall appeared better than most. They had stripped him bare and had left him to dangle from enchanted steel wrapped around his wrist.

"There, my Lord." One of the guardsmen said. "He—"

"NOX!" Conall roared a cry of utter venom.

'Leave us," Altair commanded. He did not ask for a key but phased through the gates as if he were vaporous.

Tears started from Conalls eyes as he flailed, lashing out like a feral beast. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

The crisp slap knocked the words out of his mouth. Conall hung there stunned, unblinking as if he could not believe the stinging across his cheek. The second blow snapped away the surprise.

"You will learn to speak when I allow it," Altair's voice made the ice seem warm. "I will seek information, and I will have it."

"Will you!" Conall began to laugh, then, like a switch, scowled. "You don't even know who I am! Don't even know the chaos you have brought to this castle."

Altair smiled. "Tasha," he called, knowing she was there, listening. She was always by his side, whether he knew it or not. "How long will it take to break him?"

"With all these naughty toys?" Tasha, who appeared like a ghost, smiled. She sounded feverish. "A week at the shortest. We are not in the Hells. And I suspect that… you want him whole."

He glanced at her, marking the awareness of his devil, and finally, he nodded. "Yes. He could be useful, and it would be best not for him to be… deformed."

"As your Grace commands," Tasha said with a bow. She opened her palm, a cruel blackness that seemed to swallow the shadows gathered at her fingertips. It hardened into a dagger, blacker than night. When it flashed, it lashed across Cornalls neck.

No wound appeared, but he gargled like a man with a slit neck. He convulsed, chains biting into his wrist before stillness. Altair thought him dead when suddenly he jerked up, screaming a cry that tore at his windpipe. He had never heard a more painful sound, and many of the guards who came charging in hadn't either.

Tendrils of black lined Conall veins, spreading from his throat, through his body, down to his manhood and jewels, to the tip of his toes. The taint grew even darker, spreading to cover the whites of his skin, turning it a ghoulish purple. Conalls eyes bubbled like a man that had taken a hammer to the back of the head, at the rim of his sockets.

"No! NO! NO!" The next cut had been across his manhood, ending with a thrust at one of his jewels.

Altair paled for Conall, taking a step back alongside any guard watching. The sounds that came from Conall weren't the sounds men made, much less beast. It was a sound that perhaps only those damned to hell could make. The sound alone had men hurling in a corner. Others fled to the temple to be purified. No one wanted to watch, much less listen.

Initially, Altair wanted to ask but felt it was wiser to be ignorant of such things. He had a sickening feeling that he didn't want to know. And even if he did, he hadn't wanted to find out if a part of him would disapprove or not.

"You will speak all that you know, Conall. You will speak it plainly and neatly. And if my lovely Sword Maid deems you to be lying, well—" Tasha jerked her dagger in his groin and twisted ever so slowly.

Conall lurched like a fish out of water, soiling himself before he was aware of it.

"Get it all out," Tasha said in a lovely voice. "I hear when one visits any Persist of Sepith; they must purify themselves. Well, let me show you how we do it where I come from. I shall stain your soul black as ink."

Shrieking squeals followed Altair on the way out of the dungeon and down the halls into his bedroom. Even now, he could still hear it. It sent a chill down his spine that he wondered what more Tasha could do to him.

'There is always a worser fate,' A small voice echoed in the back of his head.

Altair agreed, breathing soundlessly; he sighed, throwing it to the back of his mind. No use sympathizing with prey.

"Now all that's left is to deal with… Master." The thought of Iliana made him weary. "I hope the Vale King doesn't screw me over."
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"The hell are you on about?" The Vale King said incredulously. "We are smashing Iliana. Who the hell cares if she's our Master? That'll make it all the sweeter."