AN:
It's so interesting to read what you guys speculate about the story. I'm usually on the speculating side, so being on the opposite side is new. I know the fodder for it pretty limited right now but by the end of this entire first arc it will be interesting to see where you guys think this story may go.
One note to remember, the characters don't have perfect knowledge. This isn't really relevant for this chapter specifically, but as the story goes on this sort of thing becomes more important.
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After leaving where he had met up with that foreigner, John, Sihlas carefully made his way down to the 70th level, only a few away from the beach. On his way down he took care to not bump into anyone or anything and drop what he had in his wings.
Non-misbegotten rarely descended this far down, which meant most of the time only himself and other misbegotten were on this level. And why would they want to come down here in the first place?
His kind weren't allowed to own anything to be able to trade or provide services. The lower levels were caked in filth and there were scattered bits of rubbish everywhere from things that people had once daringly smuggled down here over the years but had since abandoned as it broke or lost its usefulness.
Anything of worth was kept out of sight of everyone, misbegotten or not, for fear of the consequences. The buildings were in disrepair with the only 'clean' parts of the rooms being the cobweb covered ceilings. Buildings infested with bugs were sought after because they could eat them to help deal with the ever-present hunger, and those who made the others mad or were disliked were relegated to the buildings with leaks or were bad in other ways.
As the sun started to set, Sihlas made his way through the crowd to get to an obscure dead-end section of buildings nestled into the cliffside. There were no lifts positioned to be able to get here and had buildings that weren't inhabited by people, abandoned for better and more convenient buildings.
Sihlas made his way through the quiet empty section of Clifftown. He stopped at a small, unassuming stone shed-sized building built into a niche in the cliff directly on the wall of the cliff. It sat in permanent shade away in a obscure corner so sunlight never shined onto it, so it had moss growing on its stones. He entered the small building whose awkward entrance prevented someone from seeing into the interior from the street.
Inside three large misbegotten over twice Sihlas's size lazily sat. As he entered, their eyes turned to him.
"Sihlas." One of them said in greeting as they all stood up from where they had been sitting.
Two left out the door behind him and the third started pulling at a particular block in the stonework. With a scraping sound, the third man pulled the entire block out of the wall, but rather than the rock of the cliff being behind the block, there was an empty blackness.
Already knowing what to do, Sihlas reached up and into the crook of one of his wings and his hand came back with half of a twisted metal candlestick.
He put his hand holding the ruined candlestick into the void in the wall and dropped it. He heard the clink of metal hitting rock come from the dark space in the wall.
Sihlas pulled his hand back and the man put the stone block back into place as if nothing ever happened. The man gave Sihlas another nod.
"We will make sure you receive your reward. Praise the Savior."
He called the other two back in. All three went back to sitting in their spots.
Sihlas hurriedly made his way out of there and started to make his way to the level where his house was.
Sihlas wasn't really a believer in this "Savior" that had gotten a hold of the minds of everyone, but he knew to keep his mouth shut.
Over the past couple of years after that first group of those who followed the Savior arrived, the 'priests' and their leader as they were called, they had taken over as the leaders of the misbegotten.
They all still had to listen to their masters above, but down here among themselves where their masters never came, they made their own rules. The priests' taking over was easy with them all being healthy and strong in comparison to those who had lived in Morne their whole lives and had been weakened by hunger their whole lives and them being similarly powerful in the mind and with words as they had been in body compared to the misbegotten of Clifftown.
Since they claimed leadership, those who had spoken against the Savior or his followers had been suppressed and isolated. Some particularly vocal cynics had been forced to give their daily portion of food from the castle to an especially loyal follower or suffer beatings, until they learned to keep silent. He wasn't sure they were true, but Sihlas had even heard whispers of people 'falling off' of walkways to crash into the ocean below, their bodies washing ashore days later.
But Sihlas and others with similar thoughts to him were in the minority. Most were true believers and thought that this Savior would rescue them all, and those like Sihlas who weren't so sure now carefully watched what they said and to whom. He himself had never voiced any of his thoughts to anyone.
Whether the believers were fighting for the extra food that the priests somehow managed to smuggle in, probably in the same way they managed to get down here in the first place, or if their fervor was genuine in the hope and belief that their kind would all be delivered from their suffering, Sihlas did not know.
He didn't believe the tall tales the 'priests' of their Savior told about how their kind had once been considered among the likes of storied champions, like the armored knights vested with glory and noble blood that resided up in Castle Morne. That they had once been proudly held up by their parents for their curse instead of thrown into the muck as shameful.
That long ago they had, by virtue of their birth, been held above non-misbegotten as more holy and blessed. That in the ancient past, they were considered blessed and their beastly malformations signs of holiness.
He did not believe any of that despite the fact that everyone around him seemed to eat it up, but the priests had said and told them so many things Sihlas hadn't known or thought about before, that at this point he wasn't even sure what to believe anymore.
All Sihlas knew was that when they approached him to help with their shadowy schemes in exchange for a reward because of his tasks taking him all around Clifftown, he had agreed because he would do almost anything to not have to feel the terrible gnawing in his stomach anymore.
He didn't know what they were planning and was certain that they would one day be caught. He just hoped that the rest of them weren't punished when they were discovered by their masters.
Those older than him had told him that he would get used to the gnawing eventually, but Sihlas would rather risk banishment to the mines or even death to avoid having to endure it. And if he had to give lip service and pretend their new master, their "Savior",was perfect and sing his praises to keep from being desperately hungry, he would.
It was sunset when Sihlas arrived at his house.
It was a small one room shed and was tucked away in a corner, but that made it so that the chilly wind had trouble blowing into the room when the weather got colder.
In only a couple years he would be fully grown, and he would move downward to a different level and find a different house to allow another youngling to take this one, like the person before him had done, and the one before them, and so on. One of the rules was that younglings were always given the warmest rooms.
Another small luxury of his house was that the conditions were just right so that a small covering of grass grew on the thick layer of dirt that covered the front half of the room's floor making a softer bed than a hard stone floor that most were stuck with.
Sihlas took the wooden box from his wing and spent what was left of the daylight looking at his drawings. His.
Ha! He could still scarcely believe it was real. But the evidence was in his hands.
Probably more wealth than any of his kind had ever had in Morne. He knew even most of the non-misbegotten people couldn't easily afford luxuries such as colorful drawings. And these were now Sihlas's.
Just looking at them made his heart ache to leave Morne. How he hated this place! Some days, when the gnawing in his stomach was the worst, he had seriously considered jumping off the cliff and now using his wings.
To escape and see more of the world than this barren cliff, to see what over the other side of the hills off in the distance, Sihlas yearned to explore the world. But that wasn't to be. These drawings were the closest he would come to that.
Once the sun sipped below the ocean horizon and he could no longer look over the drawings or read the words on the drawing with the dragons to himself, Sihlas carefully put them back into the box that would protect them and hid the box under a small pile of stones, so it was out of sight.
That night Sihlas dreamt he was exploring the swamp of Caelid before it had been rotted.
Sihlas woke when he felt the light of daylight breaking him out of his pleasant dream. He got up and made his way up the levels of Clifftown until he reached the bottom area of Castle Morne and then went to a particular stone plaza located near an entrance to the lowest floor of Castle Morne.
The plaza was large enough that it could have held a jousting track if it hadn't been made of stone and could host a crowd of nearly nearly a thousand people at once. In it were at least twenty soldiers and a knight in elaborately decorated armor as well as a handful of castle clerks sitting at tables that were processing lines of misbegotten and giving them tasks for the day.
Sihlas got into the shortest line and waited for his turn. Eventually the last person in front of him was given their duties for the day and it was his turn.
Sihlas stepped forward and stood in front of the clerk. Silhas kept silent and the clerk looked him up and down like he had learned to do. Those who weren't misbegotten found their voices from their changed mouths and throats unpleasant.
Sihlas saw the clerk gesture at his wings with his stick of charcoal.
"Can you fly?" the soldier asked.
"Yes." Sihlas dared not lie.
The clerk dug through the 'sheets' of stiff rough leather they used as a sort-of parchment and grabbed one in particular. He made a couple marks on it and handed it to Sihlas.
"Your assignment for today will be to carry correspondence for the Castle through Clifftown. Go into the entrance behind me and report to the steward."
Sihlas nodded his head, having expected that. His ability to fly usually had him given that task. It was a relatively rare ability among his people and that made it so he was given tasks that his ability to fly would make him more useful for. He made sure to never slack off though as if they did they wouldn't be fed at the end of the day.
Sihlas went into the castle's bowels and made his way to the castle steward's office. The steward recognized him on sight and, after taking his task-leather, had Sihlas do the usual tasks the steward often had him do: carry small odds and ends to and from shops, and to deliver letters for orders of goods for Castle Morne down to shops and then letters of confirmation back up again.
He wasn't the only misbegotten that could fly of course, so there were many others who did similar tasks, but the steward had a seemingly endless amount of tasks for them to do. If they ever truly ran out he had them clean or sent them to someone else to make use of.
Sihlas spent the day making his way up and down Clifftown with the occasional trip to Castletown. As he had for more than a year now, he kept a look out for any bits of discarded metal bits that wouldn't be noticed if they went missing to give to the believers later for food. That day he didn't have the luck to come across any.
Sihlas carried out tasks for the steward, and once the sun had made its way most of the way across the sky, the steward was finished with him for the day. He made some marks on Sihlas's task letter and let him go.
Finished with his tasks for the day, he went back to the gathering plaza. Unlike in the morning where it was mostly empty besides some soldiers, the clerks, and misbegotten like him, now it also had some carts with stacks of wooden bowls and some huge pots full of food with lines of people who had finished their tasks before him.
Unlike in the morning when there was a huge glut of people going to the clerks all at once, now in the evening it was a steady trickle of people who arrived after finishing their tasks for the day.
Sihlas got in line for a clerk. After reading Sihlas's task-leather and confirming he had adequately done his tasks for the day, the clerk gave him a carved wooden chip. A meal token.
Sihlas walked over to the wooden carts stacked high with wooden bowls that were being guarded and handed out by soldiers. He handed one his token, and he handed Sihlas a bowl back. Then Sihlas joined the shortest line for the food pots.
At the head of each line was a misbegotten servant with a large pot of gruel and a ladle. These particular servants the rest of the misbegotten hated intensely, perhaps more than their masters.
The cooks and other castle servants that were misbegotten had received their positions after proving their loyalty to their masters, often by turning in others who had broken the rules of their masters which led to the rule-breakers suffering severe punishments.
Or just as often making up a lie about someone to get a chance at a servant position when one became open, convicting an innocent person to suffer for their benefit.
When Sihlas reached the front of the line and presented his bowl the servant looked him up and down and ladled whatever he thought was an appropriate amount. He walked off to the side and hurriedly shoved his gruel down his throat. It was the same grainy, oaty, bland porridge as it had always been, but it wasn't until the last year when he started doing things for the followers of the Savior and getting real food as a reward that he had realized how terrible it had tasted.
Before, the only thing Sihlas had to compare it to was the occasional bug or mouse he had caught and eaten, and they all had tasted roughly as 'good' as each other, but after his first taste of bread and fruit he had become spoiled. They tasted so good in comparison that if he hadn't been so hungry still he would be able to stomach the gruel any longer.
His tasks for the day done and dinner eaten, Sihlas made his way to the same meeting spot as the previous day. This time he arrived before John, so Sihlas settled in to wait.
As he sat there Sihlas's thoughts turned to the man. The first thing that stood out about him was his eyes. They were the color of mud, so different to the stormy grey eyes of the fringefolk, the golden eyes of the people of the Erdtree, or the piercing blue of those three traveling sorcerers of Liurnia he had once met once when doing a task. They showed John's status as a man of foreign blood.
Over his life Sihlas had noticed that there were a few kinds of people when it came to interacting with those born cursed like him. The most common were those who looked down upon his kind. They sneered and spit and jeered at them, but as long as Sihlas acknowledged and accepted himself being lower than them, they were usually satisfied with his submission. Sometimes they felt the need to humiliate him further to prove their superiority, but not often.
Second most common were those who did not care about his kind at all. They didn't mind them one way or the other, but kept their distance to not attract the ire of those who held disdain or hatred for his kind.
Thirdly, were those that truly hated his kind. They were not content just being above them, but took the very sight of misbegotten as a deep insult to themselves. Especially those with scales, as they saw them as being marked as snakes, proving their inner nature as traitors to the Erdtree. Those largely covered in scales were sometimes even shunned by other misbegotten as untrustworthy.
This third group of people were the most dangerous, and Sihlas had learned how to spot their malicious gazes the hard way. If given an excuse or they caught someone alone, they would hurt them for their own satisfaction. They would even sometimes form small gangs of like-minded people for this purpose.
Sihlas did his best to avoid these kinds of people even if sometimes in his darkest thoughts he felt like his kind may have deserved their treatment for being born traitorous to the Erdtree.
Sihlas had heard others like him talk about a fourth kind of person. Very rare, they would take pity on his kind's plight and sometimes even give them small trinkets or good food. Sihlas had never met one of those before yesterday, so he had suspected they may have been hopeful lies, like those the believers had spread about the Savior.
But now he knew them to be true. John hadn't denigrated him. He even broke the law and taught Sihlas the words on the dragon drawing.
But his lack of hate and his generosity were not the only unusual things about John.
John had tried to hide it, but Sihlas could tell his appearance and voice bothered the man, but the man ignored it and had still talked to Sihlas like a fellow misbegotten may have. Sihlas suspected the reason John acted how he did to Sihlas was because he was a foreigner and didn't truly grasp what Sihlas's curse meant.
Sihlas wondered what questions John wanted to ask him. What sorts of questions would warrant giving Sihlas that box of drawings. He dearly hoped all this wasn't a trick of some sort. Tension slowly built up in him as he waited.
When John arrived and Sihlas saw the man was once again alone, he relaxed, but not too much. As nice as John appeared to be so far, Sihlas wouldn't forget that he was still far below John.
"Hi Sihlas. Nice to see you again today."
"Hello John."
"Why don't we just continue where we left off yesterday?" John paused to see if Sihlas would object. "The first thing I wanted to ask you about were your differences from a person with a regular body. The wings, claws, stuff like that. Are you okay with that?"
Sihlas nodded his head. Misbegotten were different from those not born with his curse. Sihlas didn't know why John thought that Sihlas would care about John pointing out those physical differences. It would be like getting upset over someone pointing out that blue is a different color than red.
"Great. So the first thing I wanted to ask about are your scales."
"My scales?" Sihlas resisted the urge to pull his scaled arms back to try and hide them.
"Yes. Are they like snake scales or more like lizard scales, or something in between or completely different? Do some of the misbegotten have one kind or the other, or is it all misbegotten have the same kind of scales? Stuff like that."
Sihlas blinked, slightly shocked. He hadn't known there were different kinds of scales. Scales were scales he had thought. But apparently the scales of a snake and a lizard were different? The thought there were different kinds of scales had never occurred to him.
Suddenly Sihlas was very interested in this. Sihlas and most misbegotten usually did their best to shun their beastly cursed flesh, not learn more about it. But this question had deep implications to Sihlas. He really wanted to know.
Seeing how eager John had been to share his knowledge the previous day, Sihlas took a risk and decided to just ask.
"There are differences between snake and lizard scales?"
John nodded.
"Yes. Snakes and lizards use their scales differently for different things, so they are different kinds of scales. Just like the skin on my palm is different from the skin on my arm and also different from the skin on my lips.
"For example, lizard skin can have little bits of bony plate in it called osteoderms which they use as armor. Snakes however do not have osteoderms at all."
Sihlas had never heard of anything like that, but it sounded like it made sense. John was confident and seemed like he knew what he was talking about.
John went on to extol the difference between snake scales and asked Sihlas questions about his own scales and the scales of other misbegotten.
"So your own scales near your hands have osteoderms that make them tougher like lizard skin, but as they go up your arm and near your skin they no longer have osteoderms. That means those upper scales may be snake scales.
"However, you said your scales shed in bits and pieces rather than all at once including the ones on your upper arms, and you said that not a single misbegotten you have seen or heard of has their scales shed all at once.
"Snakes shed their skin all at once and lizards do not. The fact that not a single misbegotten has scales that all shed at once does this points to the scales not being snake scales despite lacking osteoderms.
"That means that your scales, and the scales of all misbegotten, are most likely lizard scales and not snake scales. Or at least that is my guess as best as I can tell." John declared.
That took Sihlas aback.
John had just 'proven' something to Sihlas that the man hadn't even known the importance of. Sure, the man could be wrong, but everything he was mentioning sounded right to Sihlas's very limited knowledge and experience.
Some people, even other misbegotten, especially hated misbegotten with scales because they thought the scales were snake scales, marking them as having an especially untrustworthy nature.
And here John, blissfully ignorant, had just 'proven' all of that wrong with a few humble facts. Sihlas was still mentally reeling as John started asking Sihlas more questions which Sihlas answered the best he could.
John asked about the feathers, horns, and fur of Sihlas's kind. As John asked about these things John would tell Sihlas what those answers meant to him. For example John told Sihlas his wings were too small to lift his body naturally so there must have been some sort of magic involved.
That was a surprise to Sihlas, but thinking about the birds he had seen, Sihlas realized it was probably true even if he couldn't feel the magic he was using to fly.
As John told Sihlas about these things and mentioned some of his conclusions, Sihlas had another question come to his mind.
"Hey John, how do you say with confidence that misbegotten horns that sometimes grow out of our heads and tails are bone and not ivory, but then you say that you don't have much to say on feathers? How do you know all this? Are you some kind of hunter?"
"No. I've become a decent hunter since I arrived at the Lands Between, but the reason I know this stuff is because before I came to the Lands Between, I was a scholar. My main study was history, but I had a wide interest in many things so I've learned a lot of specific things that caught my interest.
"For example, I know the difference between snake and lizard skin because I have always thought snakes and lizards were cool since I was a kid, and when I was older I learned about them for fun. On the other hand I don't know much about your feathers because I've never really had much of an interest in birds.
"I can tell you birds are reptiles like snakes and lizards and descend from the same very distant ancestors, though they are very distant cousins. But I don't know much about birds besides a cursory knowledge of them and how they are related to lizards. I couldn't tell you what sort of bird your feathers are from or about the different types of feathers.
"Horns on the other hand, like lizards and snakes, were something I thought were cool and interesting, so I looked into them. Bone and teeth are made of different materials despite both being very hard and white-ish color. What we call ivory, tusks and the like, are just very large teeth; while proper horns are actually made of bone.
"If I could see the fine details under something like what my homeland called a microscope, a telescope but for seeing very small things instead of very distant things, I could tell you for sure whether the horns are actually horns are actual horns made of bone or if they are just tusks made of ivory. But because I don't have that, I have to make an educated guess.
"Considering that, according to you, no misbegotten ever have tusks in their mouths, just human teeth and fangs. And that the horns seem to grow out of the skull and spine and no where else. It seems most likely that they are horns.
"Really, considering the specific types of features misbegotten are born with, it seems you only get stuff from reptiles like birds and lizards, but not snakes.
"I'm actually being a little sloppy with my language here. From what you have told me misbegotten only seem to have features from the archosaur clade, or family, of animals. Archosaurs were 'ancient' lizards that are the ancestors of birds and crocodiles, and are not lepidosaurs, the ancestors of most 'normal' or 'modern' lizards and snakes. So misbegotten have the features of 'ancient' lizards and their descendants.
"That, of course, only applies within the bounds and rules of my homeland, which does not have any magic. Who knows what the ancestry of creatures in the Lands Between looks like with magic, and Gods, and dragons, the Elden Ring and everything else going on."
At this point Sihlas had been totally lost as John kept enthusiastically speaking about the subject. Not wanting to take the chance of upsetting him, Sihlas kept nodding along despite not understanding whatever esoteric knowledge John was speaking of at this point.
All Sihlas got from what he was hearing was that misbegotten had the traits of birds and certain kinds of lizards, but not other kinds of lizards or snakes. That misbegotten had horns made of bone, and that bone and ivory were different things, which Sihlas had already known, even if he hadn't known any of the specifics of why they were different and still didn't understand from John's explanation.
But John liked it when Sihlas nodded along, so he kept doing so, and John kept going into the details about the ancestry of creatures that Sihlas had no understanding of. Sihlas knew of course that all life originally came from the dragons and the Crucible, which eventually became the Erdtree, so all life was related, but he didn't know any of the details about which animals are descended from which it like what John was going on about.
John kept talking and asking Sihlas questions and soon enough the sun was starting to approach the horizon. Sihlas didn't have to say anything as John quickly realized.
"Oh, it's about time for me to be going for the day," John said. "You've definitely already done your half of the deal answering my questions Sihlas, but I have more things I'd like to ask you about. Would you meet up here with me tomorrow as well? Same time?"
Sihlas agreed and they went their separate ways for the day. Not hiding anything in his wings today unfortunately, he was able to glide down directly to the level where his home was.
There he found a pair of apples waiting for him, his payment for the metal he had brought yesterday. He pulled out his hidden drawings and enjoyed his apples, feeling almost giddy for a moment at the wealth he had at this moment.
That night when Sihlas went to bed he once again dreamt he was in one of the drawings. This time he was standing alongside of dragons. He stood by looking at them holding leathers and a stick of charcoal scribbling down notes he couldn't read for John as the man blathered into Sihlas ear esoteric details about the dragons that Sihlas didn't understand.
As strange as it was, it was a pleasant dream, as good as the dreams he had about flying over the ocean with his wings like a bird. Then the dream suddenly cut off!
Sihlas suddenly woke up with a jerk instantly wide awake! As he rolled onto his hands and knees, his eyes shot to the doorway, the moonlight outlining a silhouette he wasn't familiar with. The figure was taller than a man even with its hunch hunch, being more than twice the size of a regular man.
Moonlight cast the figure's face into shadow but lit up much of their body. The figure was clearly a misbegotten, but one of greater stature than any Sihlas had seen before.
They had large clawed feet with long toes like Sihlas's. The legs bent at the ankles and knees like a dog making the figure stand on its toes. Its flesh was a dark orange color as the legs went up to its waist and were covered in a light dusting of red hair. There at the waist the figure was revealed as a woman, and from the back of her waist hung a large scaly tail as long as Sihlas was sprawled out. A single pair of feathered but limp and anemic wings with white feathers hung off her lower back.
Her body was larger and more barrel-chested and widened as it came to her shoulders though without any visible breasts on her chest. Her arms were long and muscular ending in long clawed fingers with tufts of scarlet red hair near her elbows.
Although her face was mostly shadowed by the moonlight, Sihlas could make out the features of her face were more beast than man. Her head had an overgrowth of hair the color the scarlet red of primal vitality. Her hair came not just on the top of her hair, but from all four sides of her face, sides and chin included, making her hair resemble a mane like the lion pelts Sihlas had seen in some knights' chambers in the castle.
Seeing this foreboding figure darkening his doorway, Sihlas's breathe caught in his throat. He'd heard about red-haired misbegotten before. They were always killed at birth or when they first arrived at Castle Morne.
And Sihlas realized why now.
Just being near her Sihlas could feel the grace, power, and ferocity of her body. It wasn't just that, there was a presence coming from her. A presence pressed into him, of bigness, of strength clashing against strength and coming out bloody but victorious, of overwhelming endurance, telling him that she was greater than him on a primal level.
There was no way his masters could control one born like her.
Sihlas knew without being told that this had to be the shadowy leader of the believers that no one had seen or would speak of. The leader of those spreading tales of the past glory of the misbegotten he had dismissed out of hand. Those tales didn't seem so tall now.
"You are Sihlas?" It wasn't a question, her bestial voice something between a growl and the screech of a bird. "I have heard that you have faithfully contributed highly over this last year without complaint and without once being caught even once. Take this."
Her massive hand handed something that looked almost small in her hands. Sihlas reached out and took it. She held it like it weighed nothing, but Sihlas nearly fell over once she let go. It was a crudely made heavy cleaver that was the length of his entire forearm and two finger thick with a wicked curve to it.
"Hide this somewhere near where you conduct your daily tasks such that it won't be discovered by anyone but you can easily get to it. The time for us to act is approaching, but now is the most perilous time for us.
"The day is within sight. The plan is in motion. Many will perish in the task, but the bodies will make a gate to the freedom of our kind. When it is time our brethren who were not trusted with this will see the goings on and know they have to join us for their survival. Then we will all be acting as one.
"Steady your heart at the trepidation of what is to come and know that you are part of something far greater than yourself, the hands of which span the entirety of the Lands Between and beyond. Take refuge in your dreams."
With that, she left. Moving with agility and silence Sihlas almost couldn't believe despite her large body; the only sound of her passing being a soft clap of flesh on stone as she swung herself down over the edge of the cliffside walkway.
Gone like a spirit except for what she had left behind.
Sihlas held the massive cleaver that was heavy enough to eventually break through all but the thickest of armors, he realized that the believers plans were far more dangerous than he could have imagined. But he was already in too deep. He knew what he had to do.
Now, with this cleaver in his hands, he couldn't back out even if he wanted to. He knew they wouldn't let him. And as he thought of what he had endured since before he could remember and felt the faintest flickerings of hope, Sihlas wasn't sure he wanted to.
He would see this through to its bloody end. He just hoped he lived through it. But one way or another, by the end of this, he wouldn't have to feel that gnawing hunger ever again.
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