Second Day

27th day of the 2nd moon, 1113 HC

Damion wakes and has no idea what time it is. Their chambers are tucked in the back halls of the palace that are hewn from the mountain. No windows. Probably to keep them more easily trapped.

Mulsae isn't in the bed. He rolls out and stalks over to the bathing chamber and takes a peek inside. There's Mulsae, standing naked, in front of the counter looking at himself in the mirror. He softly pads over to him.

"Are you alright?"

He shakes his head. "I will be," he whispers. He turns and looks seriously at Damion, "Stop concerning yourself about me," then turns away, walks to the tub and turns on the water.

Damion glances around and doesn't see a shower. This palace is old, and showers are more modern. They'll have to live with the antiquated plumbing system. He leaves the bathing chamber to give Mulsae some privacy. He'll bathe after him.

He goes over to the screen and takes out the Echowood parchment. He opens and scans it for any new content. His hopes of finding news of help coming is dashed when he finds nothing new. He folds it up and puts it back in the frame of the screen.

He slumps into one of the armchairs and drums his fingers against the arm. How are they going to get Mulsae's Water magic back? How are they going to survive Zudaeshi in the meantime? Mulsae is already falling apart. How can he step up and help?

Damion hears the tub start to drain. He goes back into the bathing chamber and paws through the shelves while Mulsae towels himself off. There is a good supply of differently sized towels, soap, shampoo, conditioner, and toothpaste. It's good enough to keep clean.

Mulsae heads out of the chamber with a towel wrapped around his waist. Damion turns on the tub and gets right in. He doesn't care about the water temperature. He cleans his asshole and plug in the running water before plugging up the tub. He quickly washes his body while the tub is filling, then rinses off and does his hair once the tub is full. He finishes up, unplugs the tub and steps out.

He dries off and goes to put his pants back on, and oof. They smell. He had to put them on last night before he could clean himself. He hadn't found anything that could mask the smell, so that leaves him with two choices.

He sticks his head out into the bed chamber, "Smelly dry pants, or wet clean pants?"

He gets no response. He sees Mulsae is sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. Damion walks over and waves his pants in front of him.

Mulsae rears up and exclaims, "Gross!"

"I assume your advice would be wet clean pants over smelly dry pants," Damion gives him a wry smile.

"Oh gods, yes, Damion, yes," Mulsae gasps, "Wet pants is better."

Damion turns and purposely waves the pants under Mulsae's face again just to hear him exclaim, "Gods! That's nasty!"

Damion walks back into the bathing chamber, happy to have gotten some sort of reaction out of Mulsae. He kneels in the tub with his pants and runs the water over them. He soaps them up and rubs against the stains on the rear of the pants. He keeps smelling and rubbing until all he can smell is soap. Then he rinses off the pants, turns off the water, and wrings as much water as he can out of the pants. He gets out of the tub and rolls the pants up within a towel then takes it back into the other room and sits on it to squeeze all the water into the towel.

Mulsae is back to merely sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor.

"Do you have any plans?" Damion asks.

"Lirae is my first priority," Mulsae whispers. Damion nods. "I have to do everything I can to keep Her eyes off the Water Sanctum."

"I understand," Damion nods solemnly.

Damion gets up and shakes the pants out of the towel. He feels the wetness and shrugs to himself. He's dealt with worse during his centuries as a soldier. He slides them on.

He walks over to Mulsae and puts his hands on his shoulders, "You have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"I have the weight of a Sanctum on my shoulders," Mulsae says softly.

Damion crouches down so he can look into Mulsae's eyes, "You're not alone."

"The nature of my position is to be alone." Mulsae shakes his head. He runs a finger down Damion's face, "I know you're trying to help. And it warms my heart that you care. But you aren't helping. You're just... another burden right now." Damion's heart sinks. Mulsae clears his throat and sits up straight, "Damion, stand in front of the brazier and dry your pants off."

Damion stands and nods. He walks over to the fire and stands in the heat. He's surprised at himself how much he feels better being told what to do. He was so worried and anxious just a moment ago, and yet now he feels calmer. He knows what to be doing with himself. He feels more secure. It feels as though Mulsae will have all the answers. He stands in the warmth and lets it burn away the useless questions.

They stay in silence with the only sound being the crackling of the fire. Then suddenly the door opens and a gruff voice announces, "You've been summoned to the Sanctum Masters' breakfast."

Mulsae stands and goes to the door wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist. He has no clothing to wear. The guard guffaws at the sight of Mulsae, then throws him a pair of pants. "The Harmonarch said to wear these."

Mulsae catches the pants and inclines his head. He merely turns around, drops the towel to the floor and slides the pants on. He heads out the door with his back straight and head held high with his classic bored expression.

The guard points at Damion, "You, too," he demands. Damion blinks but then skips and whisks himself out the door.

The guard takes them through the softly lit white halls. Mulsae follows as if this is his palace, and Damion follows just trying to survive the next moment.

They pass through the grand entryway and return to the same hall where last night's dinner took place. The eight towering windows greet Damion with warm dawn light, soft and gold against the stone. There is now a single round table with seven place settings and one very tall chair. Most of the Sanctum Masters are already there and speaking softly with each other.

Mulsae approaches to look at the name cards on the table and Valena hisses at him, "What happened to you?"

Deryn puts a hand on Valena's shoulder, "She gave him a rough night. Let him be." Mulsae narrows his eyes at Deryn but then continues to look at the name tags.

Mulsae and Damion get to the side of the table that has the tallest chair and see a cushion on the floor with Damion's name tag. They walk around the tall chair and see yet another cushion, and this one has the name tag for Mulsae.

Damion rolls his eyes but Mulsae keeps his expression stoic. A muscle in his jaw feathers almost imperceptibly. They stay near the tall chair and silent while the other Masters talk amongst themselves.

The last Master arrives and the hall's doors shut a few moments later. A servant announces, "The Harmonarch approaches. Please stand by your designated chairs."

Everyone lines up behind their chairs. Mulsae and Damion look at each other one last time before they move to stand in front of their respective cushion. Sounds hush and then the quiet is broken as the large double doors open. Zudaeshi is there, and the sound of her shoes billows throughout the space as she walks.

She walks up to the table, dragging her nails across the back of Garrick's shoulders when she passes by, then rakes her nails over Mulsae's scalp as she takes her place to stand in front of the tall chair. She gazes out at the assembled Masters. She takes a moment to look each one in the eye.

"Sit," she orders. The chairs scrape across the floor as the Masters move them back to get seated and then pull them forward to the table. Mulsae and Damion silently kneel down on their cushions.

Zudaeshi places the tips of her nails on the top of Mulsae's scalp. They dig in and Mulsae schools his expression to keep his face blank. She taps her index finger against his head as she speaks.

"Next steps," she announces. "You are to pay tribute to me. Quarterly. Every third new moon starting with the next new moon."

The Masters eye each other. Halion speaks up, "The new moon is in three days."

"Yes, it is. Thank you for keeping us abreast of the calendar. I won't read into anything else you might have been implying." She narrows her eyes at him. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

She continues to tap her finger on Mulsae's head. She sighs, "There are already talks of rebellion. And it hasn't even been a whole day yet." She makes a sharp, disapproving sound and shakes her head.

Her fingers snap twice and four men are brought out wearing brown attire native to the Ground Sanctum and their hands tied behind them. Master Dalenna's eyes grow wide. The men are guided to the table and forced to kneel.

"These four were found collaborating just last night, plotting to usurp your Harmonarch."

"Please have mercy on them, Your Radiance," Dalenna begs. "They just lost their Master's consort last night. One of them is his brother. They are grief stricken and acting impulsively." She pleads, "Please, have mercy."

Zudaeshi narrows her eyes at Dalenna, "Rebellion will not be tolerated. It will be dealt with swiftly and severely."

She turns to Mulsae. She runs her nails down his scalp and jaw to prick a nail under his chin. She forces him to look up at her. "Mulsae dear, kill the traitors."

She removes her nail and Mulsae nods. He stands with quiet grace and strides over to the men kneeling before the table. No one gives him anything to kill with. They've likely forgotten he has talisman magic, and he intends to keep it that way. He'll have to kill them with his bare hands.

Mulsae gets a firm grip on the first man's head then looks up at Zudaeshi for final confirmation. She simply nods. He takes a deep breath then swiftly snaps the man's head in a rapid twist to break his neck. Mulsae lets go of the head and the body collapses to the floor.

Dalenna gasps. She's sitting within arms reach of these men she desperately wishes she could save. And now one lies dead at her feet.

Mulsae steps over to the next man and grasps his head. Dalenna's breath hitches. The man and Dalenna stare at each other with intensity. Mulsae looks up for confirmation and Zudaeshi nods. He rapidly pulls his arms and twists the man's neck to make it break. He releases the head and the body crumples. Dalenna chokes a sob and falls back in her chair. She pants and stares at the body on the floor.

Mulsae steps to the third man and wraps his arms around his head. He looks up for confirmation.

Dalenna pops up and leans over the table towards Zudaeshi, "Gods, please have mercy, Zudaeshi, please!"

"Your Radiance," she hisses. "Always."

"I'm sorry, Your Radiance, I'm so sorry. Please have mercy," Dalenna whimpers with tears flowing down her face.

"Do it, Mulsae," she orders coldly. Mulsae whips his arms and breaks the man's neck. He drops the body at his feet.

Dalenna is panting heavily, clenching and unclenching her fists helplessly. Mulsae steps behind the fourth and final man to be executed. He wraps his arms around his head and looks to Zudaeshi. Dalenna begs quietly, "Please," through tear-soaked lips. Zudaeshi nods her head and Mulsae immediately whips his arms and drops the last dead body to the floor.

Dalenna sits staring at the bodies with her bottom lip quivering. Mulsae stands looking to Zudaeshi for orders. His fingers tremble slightly and he promptly stuffs them into his pockets.

Zudaeshi snaps her fingers, "It's time to serve breakfast." She looks to Mulsae, "Return to kneeling at my side, Mulsae dear."

Mulsae walks back to his cushion as if nothing had happened with a perfect bored expression. He kneels gracefully to the cushion and owns it as if it were his throne.

Servants file into the hall in quiet procession, each carrying a lacquered tray set with bowls and cups. One is placed before each guest with practiced precision. Each except for Mulsae and Damion.

Those seated at the table begin to eat, but Dalenna just stares at her tray while breathing heavily. Her bond-kin lies dead at her feet, a now severed tether to the husband murdered just the night before.

"Dalenna, you must eat," Zudaeshi reprimands. Dalenna glances at Her then picks up her chopsticks and nudges at her food.

Zudaeshi lifts some food from her plate and offers it to Mulsae, who sucks the food off the chopsticks as if he were a lazy Master being handfed by the Harmonarch. Garrick snickers. Deryn gives Garrick a withering glare. Garrick scoffs in return.

"Boys, boys!" Zudaeshi exclaims with a smile and glint in her eye. "Do behave." Deryn and Garrick turn their faces back to their trays.

She offers the next bite to Damion. He is disgusted to get so close to those vicious nails, but he wills himself forward, schooling every muscle not to flinch as her nails brush his lip.

"We shall have a gathering tonight to celebrate the beginning of my reign," she announces.

"The Water Sanctum is missing a delegation." She turns to Mulsae. "I shall remedy that. I've already invited your steward, Saeroth, to bring a small retinue this evening." She waves a hand as if it were a minor detail, "Besides, I have much to speak with Saeroth about. It's time I spoke to the one who's really been managing your Sanctum."

Mulsae merely nods, but Damion stiffens. Saeroth is steward of Drenvaar, not the entire Water Sanctum. But because Lirae is a secret, most assume the capital's steward holds authority over the whole Sanctum. Even Saeroth believes himself to hold that kind of power. And Zudaeshi is playing directly into that illusion.

They eat in silence while Damion's thoughts are caught on Saeroth, what kind of damage he might do if he believes himself in total control of the Water Sanctum. Zudaeshi shares a few bites of food with them, but eats most of the meal herself. She had not received extra portion sizes to account for the two additional mouths to feed.

Once Zudaeshi finishes her meal she stands and announces, "You shall each be escorted back to your chambers. We shall have lunch all together with your delegations, and then have a gathering this evening."

Her shoes clack on the floor as she walks through the room and out the large double doors. The sound slowly fades away as she walks down the corridor.

The Masters eye each other.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ground Master Dalenna," Marsh Master Selune says sympathetically. The other Masters mumble their sympathies.

Dalenna lowers herself to kneel by the second man who was executed. She tucks his head in her lap and caresses his hair.

"Let Thunder break the mortal chain," Dalenna begins softly, "Let Ground receive what must remain."

"Let Marsh recall what once was known," Selune and Deryn join her, "Let Wind guide where the soul is blown."

"Let Water carry you in its flow," the other Masters add their voices, "Let Flame give light where you must go. Let Mountain protect the path you tread. Let Sky unveil the path ahead."

Dalenna whispers alone, lips trembling with grief, "The path is clear." The others answer, low and steady, "Go without fear." They bow their heads in silence. Damion stares at Dalenna's hand stroking the man's hair. How quickly a soul moves on. How slowly the body cools.

Mulsae stands so Damion follows suit. Mulsae walks over to him and puts a protective hand on his back.

A guard snags Selune's elbow and drags her out the door. Followed by Garrick being snagged by another guard. A guard walks up behind Dalenna and roughly pulls up on her arm, dragging her to her feet and causing her bond-kin's head to fall onto the floor with a loud crack. Dalenna gasps a sob at the sound and can be seen crying as she is dragged out of the room.

A guard comes for Mulsae and Damion. He grabs Mulsae's elbow, drags him out of the room and Damion obediently follows.

They are taken back to their chambers. The guard opens the door and tosses Mulsae inside and Damion skips and swiftly pops inside before growing ire from the guard. The guard slams the door shut and the lock loudly clicks closed.

Mulsae falls to his knees in a crack. Damion is at his side instantly, "Mulsae, are you okay?"

Mulsae sucks in a slow breath, then says, "Kneel in front of the fire. Warm yourself." Damion blinks at him. But then does what he was ordered to. He kneels in front of the brazier and soaks in the warmth just the way he enjoys it.

Mulsae falls forward onto his hands and breathes deeply. His head falls limp between his shoulders. Eventually he gathers enough strength to stand up. He stumbles to Damion and points at him, "Stay," then continues on and stumbles into the bathing chamber. He tries to slam the door shut, but it just bangs against the broken jam and rebounds back open.

After a few moments Damion can hear a loud wet sniffle from the bathing chamber. Damion's heart breaks open. Mulsae is suffering and he can't do anything to help. He's been ordered to stay and kneel here. But even if he hadn't been given an order, there's nothing he can do to help Mulsae. He's been rebuffing all his attempts. Mulsae even specifically said that Damion is being a burden with all his attempts to help. He sighs. He wishes there was something he could do.

Damion listens to the crackling fire as he waits. He hears more sniffling and choked sobs from the bathing chamber. But he doesn't go to him. He waits. Perhaps if he is good, if Mulsae thinks he's a good boy, then perhaps this could help him feel better.

Damion continues to wait, and then the door to their chambers suddenly clicks unlocked. The door opens and in walks a Windborne, a Sylvaran. He's carrying a leather bag and is flanked by two soldiers. But it's his wings that seize attention. Green feathers tipped in azure, like any Sylvaran, but these are held wide, proud, and unmistakably deliberate. His wings drip with art. Rings clasp the shafts of feathers, beads are threaded through the down and glint like dew in moonlight. Delicate chains hang between flight feathers, light enough to shift with breath.

Damion leans back without thinking. Shame crawls up his throat. He's Windborne, too, yet he keeps his wings folded in the Spirit realm, hidden away. This Sylvaran wears his history on his back.

The Sylvaran speaks in a deep voice, "I'm here to see Mulsae. Are you Mulsae?" He narrows his eyes at Damion. "No, you must be the other one. Your nipples are already pierced. Where is Mulsae?"

With the practiced ease of a Sanctum Master in control, Mulsae strolls out of the bathing chamber. "I am Mulsae," he says, voice steady with confidence. His face is dry, composed, but the swollen bridge of his nose and the red rims of his eyes betray how recently he wept.

"The Harmonarch has ordered that your nipples be pierced," the Sylvaran announces. He gestures towards the chair at the writing table, "Sit there."

Mulsae sits with grace. The Sylvaran takes out various supplies and lies them upon the table. He swabs Mulsae's nipples, makes small marks of ink on his skin, then studies the positioning a moment before deciding to continue. He takes a needle and pushes it through the skin in one inked mark and out through the other inked mark. He then leads the jewelry through the fresh hole and screws the ring shut. He repeats the same with the other nipple.

Mulsae doesn't react. Doesn't move. Only a slight feathering in the muscle of his jaw betrays how he feels.

The Sylvaran examines his work closely and from afar. He is content, so he packs up his supplies. He turns and nods to the soldiers waiting at the door. The soldiers guide him out of the room then close and lock the door. All without a word spoken.

Damion turns to Mulsae, "I'm so sorry—"

"Do not speak," Mulsae interrupts. Damion blinks in shock. He has always been encouraged to speak his mind. Mulsae returns to the bathing chamber. Damion can hear him slide against a wall down to the floor. Damion's heart is bleeding for him. But he'll stay where he is. He'll be a good boy for Mulsae. He won't be a burden. He'll kneel here and wait silently.

The silence is broken by the door's lock clicking and the hinges of the door creak open as a soldier appears in the doorway. "You're summoned for lunch," he says gruffly.

Damion looks towards the door to the bathing chamber waiting for confirmation from Mulsae before standing. Mulsae strides through the doorway, looking ever much like he's the ruler of this palace. His face has cleared, his eyes no longer red rimmed.

Mulsae passes him and merely says, "Heel," as he heads to exit their chambers. Damion jumps up and follows, shaking out his legs and walking a little dumbly as he does so.

The soldier leads them through hallways that are growing familiar and back into the same grand hall with the large double doors they've had their two prior meals already. The midday sun shines through the windows, and the blue sky stretches endlessly beyond this gilded cage.

The table for seven is still positioned in the center, which is now flanked by four tables. What are also still positioned in the center of the hall are the four dead bodies from breakfast. The only change being a sign laid upon them that says 'Traitors'. Dalenna is standing in front of the bodies with her head bowed.

The attendees are milling about the tables looking for their assigned seats and speaking with each other. Mulsae and Damion walk up to the tallest chair, and yes, there are cushions on either side of it with their names on it.

Deryn drifts by Mulsae and says in a low tone, "I'm sorry, Mulsae. Stay strong. We're going to need you," then drifts away. Mulsae has no reaction to the interaction.

Maedor shoulders by Mulsae and gives Damion a big hug as if they're old friends. They haven't seen each other since the Sanctum Masters had freed him ten years ago. Damion awkwardly pats his back.

"Why did you get back together with him," Maedor says in a hushed tone in his ear while still squeezing him. "He's just like his father. Not worth it." He sighs then finally backs up enough to look Damion in the face. "And look where it's gotten you. Trapped," he looks around the room, "Here."

"Cousin," Mulsae drawls, "It is always pleasant to see you."

Maedor peels away from Damion. "Can't say the same about you," he sneers. He steps into Mulsae's space and shoves his finger into his chest, "You've turned into your father. When we were kids," his bottom lip quivers, "When we were kids we promised. We promised each other we would do better than our fathers."

Mulsae gently encloses Maedor's hand with his own, "I've tried, Mae," he says softly.

"Try harder," he sneers then marches away.

Mulsae turns to Damion and says in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry everyone keeps questioning your decisions."

Damion gives a curt nod. "You're easy to hate, Mulsae. And you make it even harder for anyone to see the side of you that's likable."

A servant's voice fills the room, "The Harmonarch approaches. Please stand at your designated chairs." The attendees shuffle about the room as they go to stand by their chairs. Mulsae and Damion stand by their respective cushions, Mulsae to the right and Damion to the left. Mulsae is next to Garrick and Damion next to Valena.

"Nice piercings," Garrick smirks at Mulsae, who doesn't even react.

The main doors open and Zudaeshi comes strolling into the hall, her shoes snapping with every step. She walks up to her tall chair, her footsteps the only sound as attendees practically hold their breath afraid of what could set her off.

She stands in front of her chair and announces, "Thank you for attending my luncheon. Please, sit. Eat. Enjoy my hospitality." Chairs scraping along the floor echo around the room in a cacophony as they all move to sit simultaneously.

Everyone starts eating the meals on their plates, grown cold from the pomp and circumstance prioritizing appearance over quality. Damion eyes Zudaeshi's plate and sees that it doesn't have extra portion sizes. They're going to starve if they continue to be fed this way. She gives a bite of food to both Damion and Mulsae.

"Garrick dear," she runs a finger down his arm, "Have you given it any more thought?"

"No," he says coolly not removing his eyes from his plate.

Zudaeshi's features grow stern and severe. She clutches her goblet so tightly her knuckles turn white. But then she relaxes. She plasters a smile on her face, "I am a patient woman. I see that you need time. I can wait." Garrick grunts.

The Masters eat in silence. The attendees at the other tables speak to each other in hushed tones, their murmuring fills the room.

Zudaeshi runs her nails through Damion's hair, then turns her head towards Valena, "I've invited your siblings to the party tonight." Valena stills.

"And isn't your mother married to the Thunder Master's brother? I invited them, too." Valena swallows carefully.

"I'd like to host them as my guests for awhile. You and your consort need to return tomorrow to run your Sanctum, but you won't miss them, would you? I would like to get to know the flame siblings."

"I hope my family treats you well, Your Radiance," Valena says finally with the epitome of politeness.

"I'm sure they will," Zudaeshi coos.

"Dalenna." She turns to face Her nervously. "It has come to my attention that you no longer have transportation back to your Sanctum. That is no bother to me. You are welcome to stay here until at which time someone from Ground Sanctum can come and transport you." Dalenna inclines her head in acknowledgment.

"It is common courtesy to thank Your Radiance when she offers you her hospitality," she sighs.

"Thank you, Your Radiance, for your hospitality. It is generous," pipes up Dalenna.

"Mulsae dear," she purrs as she runs her nails through his hair, "You'll be staying beyond tomorrow. I have much to learn from you, and you already have a steward to run your Sanctum, so they shan't miss you at all over in the Sanctum of the Cutting Deep."

"I am at your service, Your Radiance," he says coolly.

"That you are, Mulsae dear, that you are." Her nails are too sharp and her pressure too firm causing lacerations to be cut into his scalp with her ministrations in his hair. Trickles of blood seep through the strands and a few drops roll down his face.

The soft chorus of porcelain and cup fades to stillness, each sound falling silent one by one. Zudaeshi has only fed Damion and Mulsae a few bites of food. It's especially a struggle seeing all that food and watching people eat. And he's only being denied food because he's being treated like a pet by someone oblivious or uncaring of his needs.

Zudaeshi stands. "We're all going to relocate for a demonstration. Please exit the hall and follow the escorts in an orderly fashion."

The attendees scrape their chairs back to stand and merge into a group to leave the grand hall together and make their way through the corridor while murmuring quietly to each other. Mulsae and Damion remain kneeling a moment longer then stand. They look at Zudaeshi out of the corner of their eyes to see if there is any disapproval if they join the group. They carefully step away and merge into the crowd.

They are guided through the inner hallway that carves into the mountain, and to the back stairwell going down, down, down. The air grows stiller and cooler with each step, and the weight of the mountain above settles into Damion's spine. At every intersection, a silent soldier stands guard, allowing only one path forward. A funnel. There's no choice, only obedience to follow. Follow down.

At last, they leave the stairwell and follow a broad corridor to a set of unassuming double doors. Nothing about the approach hints at what lies beyond. They pass through two by two and emerge into a coliseum. Modest, yet undeniably grand for having been hewn entirely from stone beneath the mountain. The stage of the coliseum is open to an undulating blanket of stone slabs, small boulders, rocks, and gravel.

They're in the bottom level and are encouraged to take seats. After everyone has filed in and settled, a platform begins to lower in front of them, and seated upon it in a low settee is Zudaeshi.

"I would like to show you one of my pets. It's their lunchtime now, too," she announces. Her platform rotates and moves to the side so that the attendees view of the stage isn't blocked. There is a plank extended from one ledge, ending high above the center of the stage. Two servants walk along it, a limp body draped between them.

"You're not even going to let me bury him?!" Dalenna jumps up and yells. Zudaeshi just flicks her hand dismissively. A soldier stomps over to Dalenna and punches her hard in the gut, forcing her back into her chair.

The servants reach the end of the plank and drop the Ground Sanctum's consort into the pit below. The ground stirs with the sound of a wet scrape of stone. Slabs shift apart, and a massive mawdrake heaves itself upward.

Its hide glistens like riverbed rock slick with oil, split by faint seams of pulsing green bioluminescent light. Its head is wide and blunt. Its jaws open far wider than they should. When it bites down, its teeth are not teeth at all but stone plates, layered and shearing through flesh and bone with a muffled crack. It swallows without pause. The throat flexes, the body slides in, and the beast sinks back beneath the slabs with the same scraping sigh.

A ripple of gasps rolls through the audience. Dalenna chokes on a sob as her husband disappears into the creature's gullet.

A new servant appears on the plank with another corpse. He shuffles to the end, tosses the body over, and hurries off. The mawdrake rises again and devours the offering before the echoes fade.

When the next servant approaches, the mawdrake grows restless. It surfaces early, crawling beneath the plank. As the servant reaches halfway, the beast coils its thick hind legs, shale-scaled and dripping with wet grit. Its spine ripples, gathering power like a breath held too long. Then it launches and stone slabs quake beneath its push. The creature sails upward in a single arc, jaws yawning open, darkness splitting the lantern light. Servant and corpse vanish in the same snap of layered plate teeth. Zudaeshi laughs and claps her hands. The devoured servant did not even manage a scream.

Sounds echo at the far end of the plank. Muffled shouting, a brief struggle. Another servant staggers out, wide-eyed, a limp body shoved into his arms. He takes one step, then another, then bolts, feet pounding the plank as he hurls the corpse over the edge. He doubles over, gasping for breath as the mawdrake circles below and gulps the offering whole.

The servant turns to retreat, chest heaving. The mawdrake coils and launches again, clearing the plank with a stone-splitting leap. Its bulk crashes down beside the servant, knocking him sideways. He cries out as he topples off the edge, hitting the pit floor hard.

His scream shatters the hush. He scrambles through slabs and slick gravel, slips behind a boulder, breath ragged. The beast crashes after him. The servant darts left, right, his feet slip, knees scraping rock. He tries to stand but can't gain purchase on the shifting stones. The mawdrake's head swings in the gloom. The servant claws at the ground, crawling on all fours, but too slow. Great giant jaws close over him with a muffled, final snap. His scream cuts short as the mawdrake drags him under and the slabs seal again with a whisper of wet stone.

Zudaeshi is clapping as her platform rotates and moves to face the seated attendees once again. Her expression is bright with a blood red smile cut wide across her face. She's sitting up in her chair, excited and clapping.

"That was absolutely delightful! Better than I ever could have anticipated!" she exclaims. But her delight is met with silence and stony gazes. The wet scraping stone of the restless mawdrake searching for more is the only sound.

"Don't you agree?" The attendees glance at each other. No one answers. The wet stone hush of the mawdrake fills the silence.

"Don't you agree?" she asks firmly, her expression fallen into disappointment. The attendees nod.

"Don't. You. Agree?" she stomps her foot petulantly and peers furiously at the assembled group. Exclaims of "yes!" and "incredible" and "amazing" and other such words of awe erupt from the group.

She scowls at them, "Do not let the Harmonarch experience her joy alone ever again." Murmurs of apologies and "no, Your Radiance" roll through the attendees.

She scoffs and waves her hand, "Return them to their chambers." Her platform raises and she disappears above them.

A soldier comes and gruffly demands Mulsae and Damion follow him to their chambers. They're lead up, up, up stairs and through hallways. Eventually the hallways look familiar and they arrive at their door. The soldier opens it and they enter before the soldier closes and locks it.

"Go to your place," orders Mulsae as he heads into the bathing chamber.

"No, we're not doing this," growls Damion.

Mulsae whips around, "Do not defy me."

"We're not doing this, Mulsae, you're going to talk to me," Damion says with sympathy as he steps forward, hands opened.

Mulsae gets into his space. "I. Am. Your. Dom."

Lightning fast, Damion's hand snatches for Mulsae's shoulder, but his fingers brush past silk and air. Mulsae's body turns with the momentum, spine bending like a reed in water. Of course, Damion's trained with him for over a decade — Mulsae doesn't block, he flows. So Damion already pivots low, shifts his weight, and catches him at the waist.

Mulsae's talisman glows yellow and red as he tries to root his position, but Damion's already inside his stance, already driving upward with one shoulder and twisting at the hips. They hit the floor hard with Damion landing squarely on top.

Mulsae twists beneath him, trying to roll, but Damion locks a leg over his thigh, catches his wrists, and pins him. They struggle, elbow to shoulder, hip to hip. Mulsae's breathing is sharp and furious. Damion's is steady.

He can feel magic stirring under Mulsae's skin, heat and pressure with nowhere to go. Water Sanctum magic is gone. Fire Phase won't help him in a grapple. And the Mountain he's left with only roots him deeper into stillness. The magic fades and Mulsae's stillness shifts to relaxing into the floor.

"You're not stronger than me anymore," Damion says gently while releasing his grip. "Without your Sanctum magic, I have you beat. You're not my Dom right now." He eases off Mulsae and moves into a sitting position on the floor in front of him. "Right now, you are my friend. And my friend is hurting."

"We're not friends," Mulsae seethes, rising to his feet.

"Yes, we are," Damion stands with him.

"No, we aren't," Mulsae turns away, stalking into the bathing chamber. The door slams then bounces weakly off the splintered frame.

"Yes, we are," Damion calls after him as he follows.

Mulsae is leaning on the counter staring at himself in the mirror. "Get out," he growls.

"No," Damion approaches and reaches out to touch Mulsae, but he ducks him and backs away.

"Get out!" Mulsae shouts, backing into the wall.

"No," Damion moves gingerly toward him. He gently places a hand on Mulsae's shoulder.

"Leave me alone!" Mulsae hisses, palms pressed flat against the wall, face turned away.

"No," Damion whispers. He wraps his arms around Mulsae and holds him. "You're my friend," he murmurs against his ear, "and you're hurting." They don't hug, it's just not part of their dynamic. But Damion believes this is what Mulsae needs.

"It's not your fault," Damion says softly.

Mulsae's breath hitches. "Yes, it is," he whispers.

"It's not your fault," Damion tightens his arms.

"It's all my fault."

"It's not your fault."

Tension falls away from Mulsae's body. He buries his face into Damion's shoulder and clutches him tightly. "It's all my fault," he sobs. His legs give out. Damion lowers with him, never letting go, holding him steady as they sink to the floor.

Damion changes his hold so he's sitting astride Mulsae and cradling his head against his shoulder while tears slip down. "You're not alone," he whispers.

"I am," Mulsae breathes.

"I've got you."

Mulsae's breath hitches. Then stills. He curls closer, clinging tighter.

"Even if all I am is a shoulder to cry on," he murmurs into the quiet, "I've got you, Mulsae. You're not alone." Mulsae trembles, then sobs fiercely as he holds on tight.

Once the sobs ease and his breathing returns to normal, Mulsae speaks up in a hoarse whisper, "I killed them. Innocent People. Right in front of Dalenna. With my bare hands. I felt the pulse of life turn off again, and again, and again."

Damion tightens his arms around him, "It's horrible."

"They just collapsed at my feet." Mulsae's breath becomes deeper, sharper. "The weight of their death... right at my feet."

Mulsae's breath becomes rapid and deep. "Slow breaths," Damion says gently, "You know the drill. Breathe in, hold... Breathe out, hold..." Mulsae obeys, his chest rising and falling in controlled motion. "That's it," Damion murmurs, running steady fingers up and down his back. "Just breathe."

He lets Mulsae settle and relax for awhile, then says, "Let's wash the blood out of your hair, okay?"

Mulsae lifts his head and wipes his eyes, "Yeah, okay."

Damion helps him stand and guide him to the tub. Mulsae turns the water on to warm it up, then takes off his pants and crouches by the tub waiting for the water.

Once warm enough he kneels in and bends over to stick his head under the tub's faucet. He hisses at the pain of the water running over the slices in his scalp. He grimaces as he works shampoo in his hair and rinses it out.

Mulsae stands up and Damion is already there with a towel to hand him. "Thanks," Mulsae says softly. Damion just smiles.

Mulsae towels off and puts his pants back on. "Go take a nap," Damion firmly suggests, "You'll need your energy." Mulsae numbly nods and slowly walks into the other room and crawls into bed.

Now it's Damion's turn to lean on the counter and look at himself in the mirror. We've only been here a day and he's already breaking. How long is this going to last? How long can we withstand? He sighs and pushes off the counter.

He wanders into the other room and looks around. No books. The storage alcove is empty. Not even a window to look out at, nor art to study. There is nothing to do here.

He sits down next to the brazier and looks into the fire. It flickers and waves. He huffs a laugh remembering the first time he was bored when he was Mulsae's prisoner. He kept chanting Mulsae's name over and over in his mind trying to distract Mulsae with his telepathy powers. Mulsae just rolled with it, took it in stride.

Just imagine what Zudaeshi would do with telepathic powers. She'd probably insist on full obedience, even in thought. Zudaeshi is a petulant child, he thinks as he fumbles with the edge of his pant cuffs.

He slumps back in the chair and stares at the ceiling. He should take a nap, too, recuperate his energy. He stands with a groan and crawls into bed.

Mulsae has fallen asleep facing the center of the bed. Damion lies on his side facing him. He looks at Mulsae's relaxed facial features and the steady rise and fall of his breath. His own eyes grow heavy and close. He drifts away in sleep.

=*=

They are both woken with a start as the door opens. They simultaneously scramble off the bed and onto their feet. The soldier who stepped inside grunts at them. "You've been summoned," he says in a rough, gravely voice.

They file out of their chambers and are escorted through the ethereal white hallways. Damion realizes they are being lead into Zudaeshi's wing and his heart sinks. They enter her suite, and there she is, wearing an elegant white dress.

She smiles at them as they enter. "My pets," she coos. She saunters up to Mulsae and drags a hand down his chest, "I wanted you two to match. Do you like?" She punctuates the question by flicking a nipple ring. Mulsae isn't able to suppress the flinch.

"Yes, Your Radiance," he says warmly.

She gestures at them to follow her to the table, upon which are two black leather collars and two iron linked leashes. "I wanted to give you your outfits for the evening."

She picks up the first collar and snakes it around Mulsae's neck, then buckles it firmly. She takes the second and puts it on Damion. She tightens it too tight. It hurts to swallow. Damion can tell it's too tight on Mulsae, too. She picks up the leashes and clips them to the front of their collars.

"Lovely," she purrs. "Mulsae to my right... Damion to my left..." She instructs and they move to comply. She holds a leash in each hand. She takes just a glance at them and then begins to walk. Mulsae and Damion have no choice but to follow.

They walk the main corridor with guards as escort, and turn off into the hallway. Halfway down, one of the guards presses his palm against the wall and a section of the stone slides open. They step into a hidden passage of gray-painted walls and softer, warmer light. The air feels quieter here. More intentional.

Down a set of stairs. Around a corner. Then, as they reach a door at the end of the hallway they can hear, "The Harmonarch approaches! Make way for the Harmonarch!"

They emerge into a small chamber flanked by colossal doors. Damion recognizes them as the doors he's seen in the grand entryway framed by stairs. One set of the towering doors groan open.

"Presenting Her Resplendence, Grandmaster of the Eight Sanctums, Voice of Unity, and Sovereign Steward of Peace. The Harmonarch of Harmura!"

Her heels strike the white stone with crisp, deliberate rhythm as she enters. The vast hall hushes. Her measured steps echo like ritual. Behind her, Mulsae and Damion follow, their bare feet slapping softly against the floor in a strange counterpoint.

The throne commands attention. It sits low and wide upon a broad dais, carved from dark wood with eight pillows, each dyed the hue of a sacred Trigram. It's framed by a canopy adorned with small spirit chimes. The scene is painted with colored lights filtered through the stained glass of the octagonal dome soaring above them, upheld by slender columns along the hall's sides.

A quiet crowd stands on either side to form an aisle for Zudaeshi's procession to the throne. They walk over a white moonstone floor etched with linework to draw the eye toward the seal of harmony at the hall's center. But they walk over the seal, and make their way to the throne, which waits at the back of the chamber.

She steps up the dais and drapes the leashes on either arm of the throne. She turns to face the assembled people as Mulsae and Damion move to stand behind their respective cushions on either side of the canopied throne.

"Bow," she commands. Clothing rustles as everyone bends in half and lowers their gaze to the floor. Everyone except for one. One person is bent in half but still has his eyes on Zudaeshi. Suddenly the curious person is being dragged across the floor through the crowd. Another person from across the room lifts her head to sneak a look and she, too, is dragged through the crowd towards Zudaeshi. The two collide together in a heap at the foot of the dais.

"Rise," she commands, "Look upon those who do not follow my orders."

The assembled people cautiously rise. Gasps can be heard from either side of the room as people recognize the two Zudaeshi has dragged before her.

"Curious little creatures aren't you," she says as she steps down the dais. "Just couldn't resist a peek."

She snaps her fingers, "Restrain them." Soldiers snatch the two people from behind and hold them tightly.

"This should reduce your curiosity," she coos as she approaches the woman on the right.

She gets close and raises the index finger on her right hand up to the woman's face. She brings her sharpened, talon-like nail to the woman's eye. The woman tries to resist. She thrashes her head, but Zudaeshi just grabs her chin with her free hand and drives her nail into the woman's eye. She screams and screws her eyes shut and crumples her face as blood drips down her cheek. Zudaeshi pries open the woman's other eye and jams her nail into that eye as well. The woman sobs tears of blood.

She approaches the restrained man. He trembles and squeezes his eyes shut. She pries open his first eye and sends her nail right through it. He screams and whimpers. She pries open the last eye and lances it as well. He sobs his own tears of blood, thin and bright against his skin.

She turns and walks back up to her throne, then faces the crowd. Blood is splattered across her white dress. The blood virtually glows against the white canvas the dress provides.

"Seat them on the steps there," she points to the right of Mulsae. "Let them serve as a reminder for the evening."

The soldiers guide the two blinded individuals to sit on the dais steps. Once released, they bury their faces into their hands, pressing their palms into their now-empty eye sockets.

"Do not cover your faces, my dears. They all must see what becomes of the overly curious." The blinded couple struggle to pull their hands from their faces. Their cheeks are covered in blood and more continues to leak out.

"Well that was stimulating!" Zudaeshi exclaims with a clap of her hands. She looks at the grave stricken crowd. "Right?" she says with a snarl. Promptly, the crowd erupts in sounds of agreement and claps of hands.

Zudaeshi slides her hands down to straighten her dress and smears blood along the way. The expression of the happy Harmonarch comes across her face and she announces, "Music!" The musicians start to play.

"Eat! Dance! Enjoy my hospitality!" she announces joyfully to the crowd. The crowd slowly intersperses and engage with each other. Murmurings of voices fill the room.

She lounges on the throne. Mulsae and Damion use that as their cue to kneel.

"Saeroth, come!" Zudaeshi calls out. A black head of hair can be seen making its way through the crowd towards the dais. Saeroth, the steward of Water Sanctum's capital city of Drenvaar, emerges and approaches.

"Yes, Your Radiance." He bows low and then straightens.

Zudaeshi gestures to Mulsae. "As you can see, Mulsae is busy with me. He will be staying here as my guest for the foreseeable future. As steward, I leave the running of the Water Sanctum in your capable hands." She admires Mulsae's form then returns her eyes to Saeroth. "This shouldn't be too much of a disruption. He did not present himself to audience often. He may hardly be missed."

"Yes, Your Radiance." Saeroth smiles widely. "He shall hardly be missed."

"You may go," she waves him off.

The foreseeable future? We're going to be here for the foreseeable future? Damion's stomach churns in his guts. Gods, I hope there is a plan to stop all of this. He searches the crowd for Deryn and finds him chatting with Serelinne and another man dressed the same as him. Hopefully they're coming up with a plan.

Damion eyes people eating. Gods, I'm hungry. If Zudaeshi is copying everything she saw in Drenvaar, then we aren't going to be free to roam and eat. Fuck. It's been a day since I ate anything substantial.

Wait... If she's copying everything... Is she going to make us lounge against her legs? Gods, I hope not.

"There is no one dancing!" Zudaeshi calls out in reprimand. Promptly, many couples get together and start dancing to the music. They drift to the center of the room to ensure they are seen.

Zudaeshi watches the dancers for awhile, then stands and steps down the dais. The crowd parts as she walks amongst them. She approaches Garrick and puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles widely. Garrick rolls his eyes but takes Zudaeshi's hand and guides her to where couples are dancing. He puts his hand on her waist, holds her hand up, and begins to lead her in dance.

Damion glances at Mulsae from the corner of his eye. He's stone faced and still. I wish we could still talk mind-to-mind.

Zudaeshi keeps Garrick occupied in dance for what seems like an age. Mulsae and Damion are stuck kneeling atop the dais. Even as his prisoner, Mulsae always looked out for Damion. He wouldn't let him suffer too much. He'd let him sit or lie down when the kneeling got to be too much. But Zudaeshi is ignoring them. Mulsae was always thinking about him, always looking out for him.

Zudaeshi guides Garrick to the drinks table, always keeping a hand touching him. They pick up drinks and chat. She casually drags her hand up and down his arm. She takes his hand and runs her thumb back and forth against it. She looks up at him with a sultry gaze and steps close, a thigh dangerously close to sliding between his legs.

Garrick steps back and shakes his head. Zudaeshi's face crumples into fury. She throws her goblet to the floor and stomps back over to the dais. She stomps up the steps, snatches the leashes and pulls on them hard sending Mulsae and Damion toppling over. They each scramble to get closer to her.

She turns to the crowd. "The party is over. Go back to your chambers," she announces with a wave of her hand.

She yanks on the leashes again jerking Mulsae and Damion by the necks. She stomps off and they scramble to keep up with her. She heads out a rear exit and marches through the gray service hallways in fury. They struggle to catch up, trying not to pull on the leashes and draw her ire.

They enter her suite, and she sweeps her arm with the leashes ahead of her to drag the two of them to stand in front of her. She eyes them with a scowl. But then her face softens.

"My pets," she coos as she drags a finger down Mulsae's face. "I need a... distraction." She walks up to Mulsae until their chests touch. She lazily drags a finger down his chest. "I hear you are just excellent at giving distractions."

"I am at your service, Your Radiance," he says with a sultry voice.

She hums in satisfaction, "That you are, my pet."

She saunters towards the bed and they follow as the leash demands of them. She drops the leashes so they stop in place. Zudaeshi saunters away a little more then turns to face them. She unties her dress and slowly lowers it down her body attempting to look sexy. She might have been considered sexy if she wasn't a murdering sadistic bitch.

She wears nothing underneath. She walks up to Mulsae and takes the leash near the collar and walks him over to the bed. She crawls onto the bed letting the leash fall through her hand until she reaches the end. She props herself up by the pillows with her legs wide. She slowly pulls the leash forward, hand over hand down the chain links forcing Mulsae to crawl onto the bed and over to her. Between her legs.

"Show me those skills, my pet," she purrs, "Please your Harmonarch."

Mulsae kisses down her thigh and lets his hot breath blow over her core. She shivers. "I am at your service, Your Radiance," he says low and deep. He kisses the lips of her entrance then licks up the center of her, lingering over her apex. He wraps his mouth over her bundle of nerves.

Damion shifts where he stands to the side. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Should I watch? Should I not watch? Should I give Mulsae some semblance of privacy? Damion decides not to watch and averts his head. But his traitorous eyes drift over to peek.

Mulsae is licking at her apex while his hand is thrusting at her entrance. She's bucking her hips. One hand is on Mulsae's head while the other is holding the leash taut pulling him forward into her. Damion can imagine how uncomfortable that is for him considering how tight she made the collars.

She throws her head back and moans with abandon. She's thrusting into Mulsae's face and pulling the leash tight. Then she yells out as her body writhes and convulses. She pulls on the leash with each pulse of pleasure smashing Mulsae's face into her core.

Her writhing stops and she pants. She still has a tight hold on the leash preventing Mulsae from backing away. He removes his fingers from her, but his face is still smothered into her folds. His hot breath blows across her core.

Without moving her head or opening her eyes she releases the leash. She waves a hand dismissively and says, "I'm done with you. Go back to your chambers."

Mulsae backs away and crawls off the bed. Once his back is to her he vigorously wipes his face on his arm. They quietly make their way toward the suit's exit. When they reach the table Damion asks softly, "Should we leave the leashes and collars?"

"No, too risky," Mulsae cautions equally softly. "We should appear as she leaves us." Damion nods.

They make their way out of the suite and see guards at the entrance. A guard gives a gruff grunt and jerks his chin forward to indicate they should continue on.

They make their way through the hallways unescorted. It feels weird to walk around freely. They pass by guards at their posts. They even pass some guests skittering about the hallways. Things are less orderly and controlled than they have been.

They reach their chambers and step inside. The door closes without the ominous click of the lock. They're not locked in.

Damion immediately envelopes Mulsae in a hug. Mulsae tries to push away, but then gives in. He returns Damion's hug and buries his face into his shoulder. Mulsae breathes deeply, holding his breath between each inhale and exhale. Over time his breaths gradually normalize.

"I've never been this helpless," Mulsae says lowly. Damion gives him a squeeze and runs soothing circles on Mulsae's back.

Mulsae backs up, "I need to bathe, I need to get this smell off me."

Damion releases him. "Yes, of course."

Mulsae lumbers into the bathing chamber and Damion can hear the tub's water turn on. He looks around the room while he unbuckles the collar around his neck. He doesn't want to go to the bed yet because he doesn't want to fall asleep before Mulsae. He eyes the fire. I guess it's the good 'ol fire again.

He sits and watches the firelight dance. Things are going to keep being ugly. Death. Gore. Rape. Humiliation. It's going to keep happening. Mulsae is without his strongest powers. I don't have a talisman with anything that could help. And brute force? That won't defeat someone wielding the strength of seven sanctums. So what does that leave? Are we even capable of stopping her? Or must we simply... wait to be saved?

He remembers the Echowood parchment shared with Deryn. He retrieves and unfolds it. It's blank. He flips it back and forth. Blank.

He considers writing a note on it, but then guesses that Deryn made it blank for a reason. It's a waste and a risk to simply ask if help is coming. If Deryn needs their cooperation, he can write it on the parchment. He folds it up and puts it back in the screen's frame. He'd only be asking for his own peace of mind, and peace of mind isn't worth the risk of getting caught.

The memory of Mulsae snapping the neck of the Ground Sanctum people flashes before him.

Damion hears the tub draining of water. After a few moments, Mulsae walks out nude and goes straight to the bed. Damion gets up, chucks his pants and also crawls into bed nude.

Mulsae immediately scoots over to be inches from Damion. He snakes an arm and a leg around Damion and pulls him close. He runs his hand up and down Damion's back going lower and lower until he's massaging his ass. He runs a finger around the anal plug, then suddenly freezes.

"Fuck," Mulsae says quietly.

"What is it?"

"No oil..."

"It's okay, we don't have to."

"I want to. I want my own distraction. I want to forget." Mulsae buries his face into Damion's shoulder. "You used to want to get away. Well, I want to get away now. I want to be far far away."

Damion kisses along Mulsae's shoulder and neck. He's never done this to Mulsae. Affection always goes one way with them. Mulsae showers Damion with affection, and Damion merely receives. That's the way they do things.

But Mulsae is clearly affectionate. Perhaps he'd like to receive some affection. So Damion licks up the edge of Mulsae's ear and is rewarded with a soft shiver.

Damion snakes his hand between them and runs his fingers over Mulsae's hardened length. He gathers the precum and smears it as he gently pumps him. Mulsae's breath grows heavier and he thrusts up into Damion's hand.

"Gods, I need this," Mulsae whispers.

"I've got you," Damion whispers in return.

Mulsae backs his head away and cups Damion's cheek. "I want to see you. I want to know it's you."

Damion looks into Mulsae's amber eyes, "I've got you." Mulsae shudders.

Damion brings his palm up to his mouth and licks it before returning it to Mulsae's cock. Mulsae wraps his legs tighter around Damion's legs and thrusts up into his hands.

Mulsae holds his face. "You're Damion."

"I'm Damion, and I've got you," he reassures.

Mulsae is panting heavily and thrusting into Damion's grip. Damion can't do much but hold still as Mulsae fucks his hands.

"Gods," Mulsae gasps.

Mulsae thrusts harder and grunts, then his mouth falls open as his cock spurts lines of cum across Damion's chest. Mulsae pants while staring into Damion's eyes.

After Mulsae's breath turns to normal he starts to turn to leave the bed. Damion stops him, "I'll go, you rest."

Mulsae looks at him in shock as he watches him roll out of bed and go into the bathing chamber. Damion grabs a cloth, wets it, and wipes down his chest then dries himself off. He returns to the bed and crawls in next to Mulsae.

Mulsae reaches out to hold Damion's hand. He looks into Damion's eyes and Damion returns the gaze. Mulsae's eyes grow heavy and close.

Damion feels he may have been actually helpful. He closes his eyes. He dreads tomorrow. He doesn't actually want to sleep. Right now, in this bed, holding Mulsae's hand, things are alright. Tomorrow, however, will bring more torment.

But he's tired and his eyes droop closed. He tries to hold onto this moment, the warmth, the breath, the hand in his, and not think about what tomorrow will cost.