Chapter Text
The Master smiles, a flat, thin twist of the lips. A strange dark mist briefly seems to coalesce about him, and his eyes gleam with scarlet. “I was so generous too, last time we met. Because I was offered something better than fire and blood. Do you remember?”
For half a moment, there was a flicker of something less than certainty over Briala’s face, her fingers catching, twisting at a ring on her index finger. “Mihris chose against revenge, and you had no purchase on her any longer.”
“Is that so?” the Master laughs, and it is a strange broken sound like knives splintering over you, shattered under your skin. It’s hard to breathe. “When you recognized me in those old pathways, I was surprised. I confess, I entertained the hope that crossing paths with you would be more entertaining.”
Briala simply crosses her arms, ignoring the jab, and you see her eyes on you again. “What would a creature like you want with a slave?”
The Master waves the question away, “Not I, this host has requirements you see. He feeds me, and I let him choose. They both choose. Not very creative, as entertainment goes, but it sustains me.”
You are hollow, broken, breaking. He never chose this. Thomasi never chose this. You open your mouth, but no sound leaves you. You are cold on the floor, and you have no voice.
Briala blinks slowly, once, “But you’re here for something more.”
“Clever girl,” the Master is pleased, his voice purring, the scarlet fading. “Do you know what you have, little Bri-bri? These paths were never meant for sheltering starving brats, and sneaking through shadows,” his gaze when he glances your way is blue and red poison. “Felassan may have shielded you for now, but you will not have them for long.”
“ Where is he? ” For the first time, Briala’s calm facade slips entirely.
“Fallen on the blade of his good intentions, no doubt,” the Master sounds bored, “You can blame the chevalier, I imagine.”
“Why tell me this?” Briala’s face is pale, her fingers twists her ring, once, twice, “Why should I believe a word you say?”
The shadowy figure simply shrugs, “Why do anything? It entertains me, more than the sweaty lusting after power in Minrathous does at any rate.”
Briala nods, impassive once again, “A deal, then. I do as you have suggested, and you let the girl free.”
You shudder at hearing that word again, freedom. You haven’t moved from the floor, and you clutch at the cold stone, shaking. You can hear the screams already, as though Briala and Fenris and Regalyan are nothing but pain and ashes.
“ Never, ” Thomasi Dravonin snarls, and you close your eyes as your heart implodes inside your chest, splintering and freezing.
“Is that you? Or Dravonin?” Briala’s voice is disgusted.
The Master… Thomasi, he turns, blue eyes wide; he looks at you with the eyes of a drowning man. “Come with me,” he pleads, voice soft, the dark miasma pulling and swirling around him to some terrible unknown rhythm.
You kneel on the shards of yourself, and the Thing bleeds through the cracks.
“Yes,” your voice cracks, and you pull yourself up on puppet strings of inevitability. The steps to his side are easy as lying.