The Keepers of Chaos: A Vault of Hell

Markos Amanodel: XCIX

XCIX

He waited pensively in the dark. "A-are you sure.. I have to?" he whispered into the darkness of his room, tears were welling in his eyes, was any of this real anymore? Did anything around him really matter when it could all be wrenched away? How could he even be sure his friends were.. Well his friends? He waited for an answer, one he doubted would even come- "FERGH!" Markos grimaced in pain, his mind was flooded with memories. Memories he didn't want, he watched his skin get peeled back, his body on the ground while a figure kicked him repeatedly. He tried to claw his own eyes out, a desperate yet futile attempt to stop what he would see. He watched his trident cleave through figure after figure beings he had no quarrel over. Tears began to flow down his face, he'd gotten his answer.

'You know what she wants..' He did indeed.

"Through here right?" His ears twitched to the sound of talking outside, he heard a female voice, she sounded.. Older but not by much.

"Uhh.. yeah.. I never expected him to-" That was Vaelle's voice.. She must be directing the woman to his room. Markos mulled over his choices. Were they even choices to begin with? Would she.. Ever let him simply live?

'Just do what she wants!' He grimaced to the sound of more tones crawling through his skull. They felt like spiders inching through every crack and lobe of his brain, their little legs stabbing into its soft flesh. He held the dagger against his cloak, he was beyond redemption. That pitiful cry for help he had made to Rishall was.. Was just that, it was pitiful, what was a life? He didn't need one. This was who he was.. What he was meant to be.. His lips quivered and Markos slipped out of his cloak.

"Hello?" He turned to see a woman walking through the door of his room, it was nightfall now. Exactly what Markos needed, a scantily dressed whore coming for a house call at nearly ten at night.. No one was around, the setup for founders day would leave many tired and headed to bed, so to say she was picked off on the way would work.. Right.. This would all work.. He tried his best to not hyperventilate, terrified of what he was forced to do.

'You need it to get in! She wants you to get in..' Why! Markos cried internally, why on Toril, or Earth, or by the realms of hell itself did she want him in there? Why did she want him here.. To simply further his torment..?

'She loves you..' A new voice whispered.. Yeah. She.. She loves him? He thought, yeah that.. No.. no.. this.. 'She only wants what's best for you Markos..' His mouth twitched and he finally summoned the strength to look up at the whore. The woman had to be in her mid forties for elf standards, which was an impossible lifetime to attemptively translate, but she didn't look ugly by any means. She had long silver hair and blue skin pale red eyes that stuck out like torches in a cave. Markos gulped in what he had to do, he wondered if there was another way.. If she would.

'Getting cold feet Enah?' Markos's body jerked violently; he felt a stabbing pain ram through his intestines and he was consumed by the agony as if someone was cutting at him with a molten scythe.

"Never.. Uheo.." He whispered back.

"I'm sorry what?" The whore asked again. Flashes of faces went through his mind.. Hundreds of figures, thousands.. Those he'd been forced to... Others he chose out of fear. Which one would she be?

"N-nothing.. I'm sorry.. I'm just.. Nervous.." He fibbed. He didn't know how to do this.. Surely she would understand right?! She would get it.. He.. he had to do this she-she would never let him go..

'Maybe burning again will help us!' No! He screamed no.. no his Uheo wouldn't need to do anything he.. He would do this.. It was understandable right?