Three days. That was the time Gorv stood on his feet, on his knees, and lay on the hard floor. He had lost his voice, his will, his everything. Like getting a slap from his father, just for talking back – but worse, somehow.

  He wanted to talk to Dragon, like he always did, but try as he might, the attemps were useless. His mouth moved, pathetically, mimicing his thoughts.

  Dragon had been taught well enough to follow the lead of every snap of the fingers, every nod of the head, every gaze Gorv gave her. So she knew when to attack, even without a voice commanding her. And is that not what a good girl is for, after all – to mercilessly kill, in your name?

  The trouble now though, was that Gorv was not the only one of them in traumatizing chock. Dragon had made those noises for almost two days. Huddled in that corner, under the bed, for hours – for days. She had no more voice left herself, in fact. How ironic, the pair of them found things they had in common – even when facing a bloody demon. Sometimes, though, she’d make the odd noise, telling him at least she could still rest her throat back to where it’d been.

  The cabin was a freezing slaughterhouse. The demonic thing was still stuck up there, and he and she were dummies – husks of their former selves. Still, one thing could not be helped; they needed food and firewood. The fact clicked in his primal instincts. He could not explain it if he tried, but the pair was in sync, as they’d always been, and Dragon followed Gorv’s fingersnaps out the door, also quite fed up with being malnourished – aching for one more rabbit.

  He took a last glance inside to see the decaying, demon-infused body of Jin the ronin, impaled to the cieling with a horrifying grin, as if to say; ”I’m coming. Aaany minute now. I’m coming down there. For you.” Yet, the expression it left was hollow, cold. Dead.

  Axe in hand, dog on his other side, was all he ever needed in life, to enjoy its full splendor. It made him appreachiate the cold kingdom on any, otherwise, rotten day.

  And so they found themselves deeper in the woods, like old times again, searching through the traps, for easy meat - shuddering at the thought of the wretched man, awaiting their return, even in death, counting every second of their abscense.

  It was colder again. Too cold for comfort. Gorv almost felt bad for Dragon’s paws, but thought of Jin, and changed his mind. He wanted to hide in the village to the south-east. A weak thought, for weak men – He let it go.

  There was a mighty anger brewing inside his skull. The belief in demons, Hell, Heaven and beyond was always there, and now, facing a demon for the first time, rendered him unable to even comfort his own dog – To speak even the softest whisper in her ear.

  He began chopping away at a small tree, planning ahead for the walk back.

  The smudged mind of the woodsman wandered to bad places. It chose self pity and fear. Dug a hole in his frail psyche, nailed spikes at the bottom and the screams of a madman simmered to the brain – Except they were of a little boy. He felt weak and it made him all the more angry for it.

  The axe got stuck where a branch once had been. He wanted to hear his real voice, not the one of the mind. Imagination conjured a scream, unheard, unnoticed. It never happened. Pathetic! Why had his voice abandoned him!? He called for Zeal Aqia; Kill me now, this is not me!

  Once again; unheard, unnoticed. It never-

  He yanked the axe violently back and forth to no success, and with boiling anger, he headbutted the tree – then hit it! Left fist! Right fist! He punched them sore, then punched some more. He hit the tree and imagined it was the ronin, who just days earlier had ruined his life. Saliva shot to each side, blood now dripping through his torn gloves.

  Amidst his tears of anger, it dawned on him, that Dragon had wandered off, her pawprints leading over the hill, beyond the grove. Let her search for prey herself then. Gorv let loose another flurry of fists, sending the bark flying.

  There was a sound then, other than his own panting from punching a bloody useless tree, and he just faintly heard fragments of it between the hits. So angry, he thought nothing more of it. But then – he stopped.

  Hello. Gorv mouthed the word, forgetting his rage for a second, eyes weaving through trees.

  Who am I? Am I going mad?

  The noise started over again. Sobbing. He went around the tree, and the next one, and another. It was more eerie sounding now. But he wanted to regain some pride, some backbone, even if only to show himself.

  What makes a demon so different? Get it together. You’re a Wilmar! What would grandpa Omen say?

  His father would often retell the story of when The Omen beat the Ork leader, not showing a sign of fear, walking straight into danger with a foe twice the size.

  The snow gave under him and his left leg sunk to the groin! As he tried to loosen it, a loud bone chilling scream came beyond. A big tree stood some strides before him.

  No! How do I even…

  The hair raising thing came round the tree. It did not walk. It just – was. It was right there. The child. Long rough black hair, and torn clothes. A little girl. She screamed. Then softer she sobbed again.

  His heart sank, as he realized the poor girl was a myling. He looked at the ghost with pity.

  The infant’s mouth did not move with her voice. Yet the voice came. Though after meeting with Jin, Gorv felt his mind did not budge to the insane spectrum. Moreover, he remembered the rhyme of the old tales of mylings, as the little ghost said it;

  ”Barrel is tight.

  Legs are long.

  Grant me flight;

  I don’t belong.”

  The little girl floated towards Gorv along the crust of the snow. The haunting repetition of the rhyme made him wiggle his stuck leg like a man posessed, knowing what had to be done to make peace with this unnamed, unwanted infant.

  Come on, come on!

  ”Barrel is tight.

  Legs are long.

  Grant me flight;

  I don’t belong.”

  I would help you, but I’m stuck! Bloody stuck!

  The myling was a mad sight, pressing on his sanity. What were the odds of this? Another… thing, of the unnatural realms. The indescribable movements of the ghost would be bad enough. But the wailing, and the rhyme? He had to escape, somehow – Not an easy feat, without a plan, apart from wiggling that leg. He tried back and forth, side to side. He tried circles. Both ways.

  Closing his eyes, he dug through a wider area, with aching hands, blood seeping from his torn gloves, smudging the white surface in red, as he cracked more of the icy crust, blowing up his sores further more.

  Curse the gods! Curse you all! With all his might he twisted and turned his body to free himself.

  The infant reached out. Her eyes met his eyes and shot a back-stretching chill through his body. The bright glow in her sockets seemed to read his thoughts. She stopped, both arms now reaching. An unconsolable wailing rang in his ears. Her eyes blended with the snow too well, Gorv thought he saw through her head.

  I don’t want to be here!

  He closed his eyes, fearing he would have to find the buried body, carry it to consecrated ground, with the nameless ghost atop his head - each step heavier than the previous. Problem was; there was not a single holy site for… well, who knew really? Maybe he could find a priest in the village? No, it was too far.

  He felt his foot held by a branch, deep down. From the secluded trees behind him, he felt a creeping panic as sounds came from the ground. Something ran fast, shrieking with animalistic raspiness! He heaved heavy breaths as desperation filled his mind.

  Something behind. Something in front. Something tugged at his coat.

  Huh-uh?

  Wroof!

  Dragon! Ok, come on and tug! That’s my girl!

  Their combined strength broke the branch, pulled him up and Gorv made a spider-crawl back to safety, with his friend still pulling, just for fun. Gorv was unable to feel something so distant as ”fun”, though.

  Dragon started barking as soon as she saw the unresting infant. It backed away.

  Oh… Oh! I think she’s afraid of dogs. Probably never saw one before

  ”Barrel is tight.

  Legs are long.

  Grant me flight;

  I don’t belong.”

  The words echoed out between the trees when she retreated back to-

  There! I know where the barrel is! he thought, noting an unusual shape to a pile of snow, deducing it was a rock formation. These dead children were rumored to be buried in barrels, or similar containment, banished by their mother, who feared the death penalty – for giving birth out of marriage.

  Gorv marked the closest tree with a dagger, sticking it in the trunk, below a big branch, so it would have less chance to be covered by the weather.

  Come, Dragon! … I mean… Gorv whistled, realizing his recent malfunction. He dragged the wedged axe, and the big log followed. Alright, time to-

  As Gorv realised what he was doing, it all appeared again, and again and again and again. The days that followed Jin’s visit. The neverending nightmare.

  Nooooo!! Aaagh!! Shi- mmmf… Gods! Help me, Gods!

  Madness. A blackout. It had been the reason why Gorv could even step out from his cabin. He remembered Jin alright, but his brain only let him keep the memory of the ronin as he hung, impaled – dead. But all of it re-entered his mind. The transformation. That sword. The voice.

  Gorv gasped for air. It came too sudden. He had to lay down, cold be damned. A sick feeling crept slow but steady, landing in his gut, nesting there, beating him senseless. Only fluids came up when he vomited.

  No food. No water. Three days. Three days straight, transfixed, gazing at the rotting thing in his house, while Dragon drained her lungs of noise as if her life depended on it.

  She saved Gorv from a myling, because Gorv was her best friend. Well, that and the fact he fed her. But, his brain had simply shut out Dragon’s howling, after a day or so, during those nightmare filled days and nights.

  As it all came back, Dragon was not the same. She was a different dog, traumatized, just like him. He just hadn’t thought about it, as his defending brain did its best to save himself. Remarkable mechanism among the human race.

  Aooooooo! Aooooooo!

  She could not stop. As if a door was forever stuck on her tail.

  Gorv burst to tears, got up and ran to her, hugged her and told her all the things he knew she liked to hear, forgetting once again about being mute. Ultimatelly He didn’t care, and it was enough for him to be there for her.

  Treats? Treats! And a nice warm fire, huh? Come here! I know… I know, his mouth mimed.

  By the time Dragon calmed down, Gorv acquired a distinct ringing in both ears, but he was happy to see her less broken than before. It made him smile. A minimalistic smile, but still. Then his flood gates opened up once more, not for long, but deep and from the heart.

  The walk home felt different. Gorv was no longer mad or sad, no longer much of anything. Dragon at least felt safe with him, and that would have to do. She did not look at him as much as she used to, but this was not a day for complaining. The last few days had a lesson in them, somewhere, although it had been a hard one – Enjoy the little things in life, even if it lately meant you still had it. Your life, that is.

  He stopped in his tracks, his expression easily mistaken for someone pissing their pants, letting it trickle warm into the shoes.

  Hang on…

  The woodsman dropped the axe. The log thudded hard, made Dragon notice the standstill, came strutting back. She sat down and looked at him, probably wondering what he was wondering, as his eyes peered down into the snow, blurring his vision.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Kraaw! Kaaw!

  He did not see the passing raven. Dragon did, sighthound as she was.

  Gorv was struggling to figure it out. The fight at the inn, the intruders, the fucking demon… and a myling encounter. This could not be happening by chance… Could it? He figured, if the gods had wanted him dead, he’d be seeing his old man in one of the Hells. However that worked, however, no one could say.

  A terrible booming noise came from the north – not Mt. Braxius, but further. From the unliveable zone. It snapped Gorv’s mind back on track, he pulled at the handle of his axe and pressed on, the log making a muffled crunch, splitting the powdered ice below.

  I don’t want to go home. But what choice do I have? Gods, say something. For what are you keeping me alive?

  Gorv and Dragon trudged on, observing evergrowing snowflakes in the sideways wind, as if mother Nature was telling them; ”That little log won’t last you more than two days, and I – am – tireless!”

  As Icevein made its mark on the already misfortuned, something dark started to swell over the hill where the path led them. It seemed to be right at –

  -home! Gorv gasped, and together they ran, Dragon first reaching the top. She started walking backwards, sending her master into suspition.

  No! It’s burning, he thought, legs hurting from the tough sprint.

  Dragon looked back frequently, apparently a total alien as to what to do, where to stand or what to say. What would she say? Woof?

  When Gorv reached the top, there was no fire to be seen, only dark smoke.

  Where’s our house? Gorv thought, as he ducked and stretched his neck in all directions to make sense of all this chaos, though he never thought sense was a thing to be found, after all the unlikely events lately.

  I see you, ex paradise. The smoke briefly cleared around the bend with the frontside window, then closing again. With our luck the Devil himself is probably waiting for us, but it’s our house!

  ”Welcome home.”

  The voice greeted the pair with cold shivers – An unnecessary gift, given the climate. Dragon promptly sat down in the snow, growling defensively, though that made no wonders for her shaking body.

  You’ll have to stay away this time. Gorv gestured at a nearby fallen tree, which would give good shelter from the icy winds at the roots, given it also had stood next to a big boulder. Dragon went there straight away, having no plans to encounter anything otherworldly again anytime soon. The strange man impaled to their beams had been enough stress to last a good girl a lifetime, she reconned.

  Gorv patted her head and was ready – or whatever he was – to take back their home, as Dragon licked at his shredded knuckles. She tilted her head, as his eyes met her eyes, as if to say something profound. He mouthed his interpretation of her stare into her heart and soul;

  You may be right. Maybe I’m physically and mentally drained. Maybe I have no real plan… But I must do this. If I could get us somewhere safe I would do it, ok? I would go to the inn, but they see me as a troublemaker there. And Mt. Braxius… My legs are tired, girl. Too tired.

  A couple of tears came as he stood up, waving a downward finger for his good girl to stay, turned on his heels and went home. The faint whimpering of his dog haunted his conscience.

  It was like stepping through tar, the thick black smoke, as Gorv broke through the invisible outer layer of it, to then feel the creepy sensation of being pulled by the heels by tiny weak hands. As he looked around him, there was nothing. But he felt it. Still scared of ghosts, he squinted, but deep inside realising they’d have to be quite some ghosts to actually be capable of doing physical harm. Of course, who could be sure, in a surrounding so dank as this?

  No one takes my home from me! Not even –

  ”God?”

  The voice pushed Gorv in his chest, the cheer power of it, he imagined the tense expression behind it, and he could feel the intensity lingering in distant echoes – though there was no telling if the word came from a physical being. Could it actually be – God?

  What wretched trick of the mind is this? Where are you?

  ”Wretched? You toss words around, like they mean something.” The voice paused briefly, taking a shuddering breath. ”Do join me inside, would you?” The darkness of the voice made Gorv want to claw, scratch and tear the soul out of his body. It became impossible to resist. He looked down, and his right foot slid forward, then the left one followed. Powerless.

  N- n- no!

  The cabin made its entrance through the dense black fog, as if pushed by a yeti, and he saw his own door open by itself, all in an unexplainable show of surrealism.

  The self proclaimed God of his house laughed, not really encouraging Gorv to take the last few steps, but the steps were taken, whether he liked it or not.

  There he stood. Inside his timber house, vision equal to a blind man, as he could slowly make out single items therein. They would quickly again fade away from him. A chair. His old ale mug. The ring his father gave him.

  It was like seeing with… special eyes. A dark vision.

  From there, things turned foul. His axe presented itself. It faded, he looked – He still carried it. His head was twisted by force, made him look up, to reveal Jin – No longer there, only a trail of blood, and the hole through the beam. The vision faded. So many questions incomplete in formation of the mind. The ronin’s mask was displayed, a flicker of light glimpsed the head of Jin behind it. It vanished, making Gorv doubt what he saw. He noticed he held his breath, as something clanked on the oak floorboards, startled he let the air out in a cough.

  Feeling his arm reach for the hidden item, without his consent, was likely the most horrifying thing Gorv ever felt. The mountain range of shuddering across his spine was neverending. The laughter came again.

  ”Remember,” said the voice, like a punch in the gut, and breathed like a hailstorm, so fast and inconsistent, ”…the choice!?”

  How could he forget? Gorv had tried to ignore the haunting words ever since. He would be a dogless man, if he’d refuse the blade.

  The katana, he thought, realising what lay before him, in the cold house, deep in Fellwood.

  It is no choice!

  Gorv bent the knee, but fell onto them both. He now had control of his own limbs, like before stepping into the void- black tar-like smoke. Still he went there, to a place darker than dungeons, where no torches lit the way. His mind was racing – No idea where. It felt like slow motion, but too fast. Disoriented – disastrous – damned and doomed in a dank, far off deep place of a different realm, where no one lived. How could anyone exist here? Time shifted speeds and space was a mass of globby goo – an event to even get a few steps behind oneself.

  He screamed at himself to wake up. Tried pinching at one of the bloody knuckles.

  It was time to wake up, finally.

  No such luck.

  The one who spoke screeched and hissed, like it just got acid in its face. Silence followed. Short lived. That hail of breaths again.

  Everything changed. The light entered the room, and it stung his eyes. The sun was shining in, light bounced off his many trinkets from his traveling days with his brothers of the King’s Guard.

  There was no sight of the body. Palms pressed against his eyes, rubbing them – utterly confused. Gorv’s head was throbbing, not prepared for how this raid of his own home was progressing. Not a single thing was expected, leaving the man wondering; What next? What in the three Hells next?

  In the blink of an eye, Gorv saw reality warp around itself, the bright house became yet sharper bright, and he glimpsed his old friend, William, as he wandered around inside.

  He can’t hear me! Wait- The desperate last word, he mouthed at an empty room.

  ”A fine sight, beholding other dimensions.” The voice made an agonizing scream before continuing; ”I never tire of the travels.”

  Dimensions? A vague explanation, but one should take what one gets. Isn’t that what they say?

  The thing inside groaned and twisted in its vocals before stabilizing; ”Yes, yes. The darkness you saw,” it hissed. A pouring runny dripping sound, shortly after, like a bucket of blood fell from its maw. Must’ve spluttered invisibly, for the cabin was clean as ever. ”…it vortexed you to my realm. To my… dimension.” Out of place, the laughter came again. Gorv planted a heel behind, gaining stability.

  ”I have your life planned, human.”

  Somehow, I don’t doubt that, he thought, as the voice sent him a fresh wave of shivers.

  It gurgled, then went; ”You can’t escape the fate I crafted.” It ended with a ghastly shriek.

  A clang of metal on the floor, louder than the one earlier, but oddly familiar.

  The same sound as before. This is the hidden item from the darkness!The samurai blade! Then he realised he had nothing to cheer about. Certainly not an age old artifact from some malevolent God of whatever dark depths of space-

  ”Shin’en.”

  Shin’en? Gorv thought, having no idea what it meant. A moment after the apparent drop to the floor, it was revealed.

  ”Abyss. Its name in your tounge. That thing has run its course.”

  Again, it laughed, like it had a tic – but no less intimidating. ”I’ve known about you for a while, Gor-va-nisss,” it said, with a foreboding slow snarl.

  What does that mean, exactly?

  As Gorv wondered about that, the blackness surrounding the item on the floor spread out, covering the cabin, yet again.

  Why do you need me to take it?

  ”It is good of you to remember.” said the voice. It roared, like it was in some sudden pain, but then continued, like it never happened; ”Shin’en, it has been a dear part of me for the last…” It wheezed out a couple struggling breaths, before laughing them off. ”…well… many years.”

  Gorv was stunned, feeling watched by many eyes. He could swear there was a man… or woman, rising in one of the corners, beyond the dead fireplace.

  …The three Hells. He squinted, then eyes flung open, as he witnessed something move toward him, the feeling of cavalry charging at a lone child, not as much as a stick for defense. The shape reminded him of the twisted decay of Jin’s face, before the final breaths, and that God-abandoning smile. The grin that could deter the Grim Reaper from doing its job. Yet, this entity, it took the ronin, without mercy, without slightest hesitation.

  Gorv could never explain this thing, try as he might. The dark figure made itself visible to him, to make a statement – to scare him, maybe for fun, maybe for a reason. All Gorv knew was, it was working.

  ”That ronin was just as carefully chosen… as you.”

  The thing, with no clear face at all, simply an aura of dread, vibrated – hovered back and forth through the wooden structure.

  Then Gorv realised; I’m not freezing up.I… I suppose I am talking, through our minds. Between them, somehow.

  Indeed, he had been too scared and focused on a damn living nightmare as of late.

  ”Let me be the first to congratulate.” That damnation of a voice sounded pleased – Threatening still, but pleased, in its own disembodied way. ”It is the first step to your ascension. Your… endarkenment.”

  If the thing in the room was trying to get the man to do something, willfully, it certainly didn’t work.

  Well that sounds just… thrilling. I know of a few places where you can… spread your madness.

  What places was he thinking of? It began to show, he had no real plan.

  ”See, this is why you are my selected subject.” The voice cracked and bounced, as Gorv tried to adjust to the echo in his humble setting.

  He felt vibrations coming from the dark corners of his house move closer, an unseen sight, an unheard phenomenon – beyond human comprehension. Though he stood his ground, but at a loss for words, even in thought.

  ”Strength beyond strength – of the mind, trumps all, I find.” It said, shrieking like an old witch, making that dripping sound again.

  Why do you tell me this? Why do any of this? When will you leave?

  ”I can tell you, the ronin did not resist for long. I am…” It seemed to breathe heavy with sickening glee. ”…in suspense.” Coughing, vomiting sounds came from the dark vibrations, twitching, stretching the space around it.

  There was a rumbling sound and-

  Pop!

  Gorv’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. A dark purple blob of slime popped out of the empty, stirring space in front of him, landing with a double squish, squish. The smell did not belong in Icevein – warm, it stung of some unknown decay.

  It rolled around, then opened a mouth, then another, then another. At the core peered out an eye. Inside the eye, ravaging thunder. Gorv had to cover his ears, it sounded fierce like it was outside. Lightning shot from it, so bright, he closed his eyes. He turned around, room echoing and flickering.

  There lay Shin’en before him, lit up by an impossible storm, and suddenly he wanted to give in, to pick up the blade, and maybe he’d be let loose.

  Malnourished and cold, he could not fathom how unrealistic a scenario this was. Although, ”realistic” would be a word used at peak irony in this cursed space. Because this, his own home, had become his worst fear.

  The voice laughed, matching the thundering volume.

  Poor… Jin. Gorv struggled to even think in the chaos. What… did… you do!

  Everything rumbled and he struggled to make sense of a single thing. He let out a crying wordless scream as he fell. Thinking of Dragon outside, he wondered if she was still waiting for him, in the hostile ever-winter, as he hit the floorboards.

  If his duties in the King’s Guard had been his rise, this – in all senses, was his fall.

  The axe’s handle thudded, oak on oak, as the eldritch blob started to roll towards him from behind, and the cascade of electrical bolts came like a plauge of screaming rats with it. As he crept on sore knees and hands, the rapid changes from dark to light, over and over, revealed the long black blade, taunting the woodsman – a fragile shell of what he had been, not that long ago.

  He recalled speaking to William Stormrider, before everything went to shit. How nice it would have been, to be a guard still, to speak to his friend again. If he could rewind time, just a couple of years.

  I have to… go home, he thought, like a fool. The primal part of him wanted just that. But that’s where he was, and that was that.

  The lightning struck hard, and the blob touched him, tucked at his side. Gorv opened his mouth in an inward scream as he saw the creeping creature. Meeting its eye, he already observed too much, even if little, of the dark void – the spaces between universes. He tried to close both eyes and mouth. They stayed wide open, and it hung low on his face.

  The sensory overload was so fantastically unbearable, he started to violently shake, all throughout his body, but he could not release his pupils from the captivating endlessness, in which he traveled far and wide – brain of his not understanding why the body stayed stationary, so it tried desperatelly to make it accelerate.

  Oh, how it laughed now! It could be heard again, and it was long and unbroken, as the storm started to fade – The three mouths hiding the deep eye, one by one… by one.

  The cabin turned dark. Gorv huddled into a fetal pose on the floor, as the dank interior kept his mind fixed at oblivion, the impossible things he saw, the span he flew in what felt like weeks, the utter helplessness, pain and mental agony. It all made him completely ignore his physical injuries.

  Mother… Forgive me.

  He never spoke of her – never thought of her much either. He unlocked his jaw and shut it, but the eyes stayed open and they would not blink, even when they hurt, like mosquitos sucking through their surface.

  When he heard the crawly creature move again, it made him blink several times fast, before opening a mouth.

  No…

  Another mouth.

  Please…

  The last mouth in the sticky little parasite squinted.

  ”You made the choice!” The voice bellowed out. A single bolt of bright purple infused lightning landed on Jin’s blade, and mighty Shin’en moved, the laughter echoing - like a madhouse.

  Gorv lay facing it, opened his hand wide and reached, without thinking.

  This is… for Dragon. He smiled for even remembering her name, after soaring inside the void. Then he felt the handle hit his trembling palm. He closed his fingers around it. The regret shanked at his spine. Heart pounded through the ribcage.

  The axe’s leather safety snapped, and it thumped to the floor, making contact with the shifting sludge laying beside the woodsman. He was spent, lay there, breathing. That was his only concern in the world, one breath at a time; survival. The three mouthed thing shuffled, carrying the axe with the outer set of teeth, tilted, sank those teeth deep into handle and axe-head alike, proceeded to spit out the tool. It hit the katana – blade on blade. Shin’en sprung an aura of darkness. It seeped out, then billowing, like it had when the first wielder met his doom.

  The thick dark, exiting the sword, filled the teethmarks in the axe. It wouldn’t stop pouring in! He thought the blob fell through the floor, but gasped when it too got sucked into those fresh marks. Gorv squinted at it, afraid of anything moving, at this point. Now it had gone away entirely, along with its thunder and sticky, distorted sounds.

  ”Aaah, the rejuvenation of it all!” The otherworldly being sounded more grounded than ever, positively relieved.

  Let me… live… Have to… care for… her.

  Gorv coughed up blood, still on his stomach.

  ”I would not dare dream of killing you, axeman.” New strength had entered the entity – this God, as the violent tics did not come. ”I am at a loss of thought, that you actually are capable of thinking about… well, that which you hold dear. At this stage I had expected you to be… knocked senseless!” There was the hysterical laugh again.

  Let me… go.

  ”Not on my agenda, unfortunately for you.”

  As it spoke, he felt the power of the voice sway his body, in this sea of shrouder winter.

  The room was now lit up. It was the sun, peeking through the window of the cabin.

  Gorv twitched on the floor. Everything hurt. It was over, and birds made their twit-twit sounds outside, in the rare sunrays. Finally he fell alseep.

  Hours later, in a pool of his own urine and bloody vomit, he awoke to the sound of howling at the door. Not knowing wether anything was really real, he dared not hope he heard that blissful companion of his. Still, he stood up, awkwardly.

  To him, he had been journeying the vast abyss of the darkness in the night sky for days and days.

  Then heard the voice again. This time coming from within himself;

  ”Time to rise and rip the world apart, second wielder! One sorry soul after another!”

  Gorv wept, kneeling at the door to hug his best girl, Dragon, and she whimpered, flapping the tail faster than he’d ever seen.

  Thank you for coming for me!

  His insides heard the whisper;

  ”Aah, at last. A fresh vessel to quench my needs.” The Axe burned a black cold shadow.

  Gorvanis Wilmar had passed his endarkenment.