I kept experiencing one memory after another: most of them of him.
Some were so painful that I screamed.
In all memories, he is enslaved, suffering thousands of times more than I did in my slave days. His masters were never satisfied; they would always want more from him and punish him heavily when he could not deliver.
It would break most people, but it had forged him. He improved every day, not only in his craft but also in practice.
Finally, a memory came when I saw myself surrounded by hundreds of bodies and I am harnessing their blood energies into a band I am forging.
The bodies belong to the people who have enslaved him.
I am shocked, not because of all the death and him harnessing blood energy. I know he could do it. He had done it, but with his own blood energy. He never used others.
