Alabaster's Lair

Darkness.Everywhere there was darkness. Grim, foreboding omnipresent; it hung over the plain like a great stifling mantle. No moonlight shifted down; no stars shone from above; only night, sinister and eternal, and the swirling,choking gray mists that shifted and stirred with every movement. Something screeched somewhere far away in her head, but its form she could not see. The mists and the shadows cloaked all.

"M-my Lord?"
A lad of about sixteen was standing next to him, holding a pail of water made of clay, which trembled dangerously in his unsteady hands.Alabaster raised his eyes slowly.
"There will be no further need of you.You may rest."
The boy bowed meekly, then placed the pail on the bedstand next to him as he took his leave.Alabaster turned his gaze to the figure lying beneath the silken sheets. Shafts of moonlight cast eerie shadows on her face. Her hair was a mass of raven locks, splattered across her placid chest. They had dressed her in a white tunic. He hated it; it made her look as if she were a corpse,ready to be buried. It made her look dead. She would not die. He did not allow her to die. Both the servants and he had tried brusquely to scrape the red bruise about her neck clean, but it would not fade. The iron was still running in her veins, polluting her blood,weakening her.The water was not for her; he had been trying to suck the damned thing out for days, but even he was not immune to the pain it brought with it.A cry escaped from her ashen-coloured lips and she wriggled in her troubled sleep.Alabaster wore only a white blouse and plain trousers, the weight of his weapons no longer burdening him.Another cry echoed in his chambers and it drew his attention.
Her eyes flickered open weakly, trying to familiarise with the darkness of the room.Their emerald shade was rather subdued and their gaze enclosed both pain and resignation.
"I'm alive." she croaked,straining the corners of her mouth. He could tell it hurt her to speak, for spasms of pain troubled her features when she moved her dry-cracked lips.
"Fortunately for us all." Alabaster replied.
"I know what you've been doing." Alienor said."Please do it again.Now."
He would have quickly refused her, in order to remind her who was in authority, to whom she belonged, had things been different.However, as another slash of pain strained her features, strong as he might be, he could not muster the need to relieve her from it.
"You will need milk of the poppy-"
"No." Alienor said.She dare not let herself sleep again so soon.
"There will be pain."
"I'll scream."
"A great deal of pain."
"I'll scream very loudly."
"Will you have some wine at least?"
"Does the Pope ever pray?"
"Of that I am not certain.I shall fetch someone to bring the wine.Lie down.I must needs strap your chest."
With a bowl and a sharp blade, Alabaster cleaned her blood as she gulped down strong wine,spilling it all over herself in the process.Nothing helped when the time came for Alabaster to reach the flesh of her neck. Alienor did scream then, pounding and shaking with her whole body slamming against the bedposts, silently thanking Alabaster for his foresight to restrain her. She screamed again when Alabaster poured boiling wine over the wound. Despite all her vows and all her fears, she lost consciousness for a time. When she woke, Alabaster was washing her skin with a cloth.
"You should use a leech,instead."
He had to laugh."I am not very fond of leeches."
"No." she replied."You would not be."

The next time she woke up Alabaster was not beside her at the bedstand, but seated on his writing desk, dipping a quil in a glass round jar filled with black ink, then proceeding to scrawl on a thin parchment, his face illuminated by the weak flames of a lamp above. She moved the thick sheets out of her way and walked barefoot to his side, trying to produce as less noise as she could. Alienor fell midways. She doubled up and her legs could no longer hold her weight and she curled up on the stone floor as slashes of pain ripped along her chest. Alabaster dropped his quill and hurried to her. As he lifted her up in his arms, she could not not be astonished by his gentle touch, so different from his usual painful one which he used at all times. He laid her on his bed again and pushed her shoulders lower to make her lie down, despite her protests.
"Don't make me narcotise you." he warned.
"What were you writing?" Alienor asked him abruptly.
His eyes hardened and his grip on her shoulder tightened. "I was not aware slaves could question their masters so freely."
She held his gaze for some moments before she shot her next question. "Where is Arthur?"
"Gone,fled.We have received no word of him. Seems like he is not coming to rescue the fair maiden too soon."
The expression of devastation on her face caused him to smile briefly, feeling triumphant. Let it sink in,he thought. Let her taste betrayal and break easier.
Soon,she pulled herself together, hiding her emotions from him once again. "You gave me your word you will not pursue him." Alienor blurted out foolishly.
"You must be mad to put trust in my word." Alabaster chuckled."But fear not,I have no interest in your lover-boy. I did get what I wanted in the end. My end of the bargain is satisfied and so is yours,I believe."
There was a brief silence before her lips opened again. "You're not as strong as you want to seem,are you,Alabaster? In truth, I believe you're scared to death by the thought of someone stealing your power, because that is truly all you have left. Take that away and what are you? A pitiful-"
His fingers were tangled in her hair and suddenly he tugged harshly at her locks, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. His free hand shot at her throat and gripped it tightly and Alabaster locked her gaze. For some moments,he savoured the agonised sounds she produced as she struggled uncontrollably.
"Seems to me you have been bed-ridden for way too long and you have forgotten your manners." Momentarily, he increased the pressure of his grasp and she released a surpressed cry. "Allow me to remind you. I am your master. You obey me. My word is worth naught. Make one false step and you can be sure about one thing; Arthur won't live a day longer." Alabaster leaned over her and his lips brushed her neck, almost lovingly. "Do you understand, little one?" He held on long enough for her to nod weakly in agreement before he released her.
"Good." he exclaimed, evidently pleased."If you have enough nerve to be talking back to me already, I do think it's time for a change of rooms.You'll be spending the rest of your healing time in the dungeons."

Cling clang, go the chains,
Someone's out to find you.
Cling clang, oh the chains,
the warden's right behind you.

Quick now, his seeking chains,
Approach with their shrill scrape.
Don't stop, flee the chains,
your last chance to escape!

Drag the chains, drag the chains,
With all the strength you may!
Drag the chains, drag the chains,
'Ere they drag you away!

Cling clang, go the chains!
No more time to fear!
Cling clang, oh the chains!
The last sound that you'll hear.

Beneath the sea, the dead feast upon the living. I know, oh, I know! With their bones they pluck their teeth and with their flayed skins they armour themselves, in human flesh leather. Come forth and see the corpses scattered in the most festive way there is! Even the heads upon the spikes seem content with big, wide grins engraved on their faces . All torn mouths and bloody grins they are. Such a charming sight to behold. Somewhere, a deformed child is sobbing, staring at his burnt palms incredulously, then pressing them against his very eyes. Steam ruses as the tears in his eyes evaporate. The boy keeps weeping until the sound of his sobs fills the world and suddenly he is screaming and plucking his eyes out for the dead men to feast upon.
The last sound that you'll hear.

She woke up truly in chains. The darkness around her was so thick and black but, momentarily, she caught a glimpse of something glistening. Stretching her arms and arching her back to test the length of them.Alienor found her ankles were chained as well. Her wrists bound together, slowly being urged upwards.
"You're not going anywhere, love."

"Alabaster?"
As the darkness didn't seem to get any better, she realised she was most likely blindfolded as well.
"I came to ask you something. One night, I came into your chambers-" he began.
"Confinement cell, my lord." she spat the last two words out mockingly.
"-You were asleep, looking almost a child. Except for one thing;" he went on as if she weren't even there."You were clutching a dagger in your hand."
It was hard for her to speak due to her wounds.At some point, she had even stopped screaming.The words seemed brusque on her tongue.
"For protection."
"I figured. But you don't need common steel. You could torture with your mind or immobilise with your power. Why a dagger?"
"It's merciful." Alienor answered."More than burning magic. More than mental tortue. It's a better way to die."
"I see." he muttered. The blindfold was removed. His eyes were thoughtful, but they changed almost immediately, losing focus.
The room was torch-lit and she could see that one wall was covered with torture instruments, cat-o'-nine, the pear, splinters. A fire brazier was at the far end of the room.
"Do you see, though?" he asked her, standing up, tall and dark in his own endeavour, walking towards it. "Do you not see how pathetically weak you are? A slave of mine does not fear death."
"I do not fear death."
"You fear inflicting it on others. You are to be an instrument to me. An instrument that will cause pain and grief, a tool that will grow fearsome and ruthless. I have no need for mercy, little one. I only crave blood. Blood and Power."
She chuckled harshly. Alabaster was now at the far end of the room, but she knew he could hear her all the same."Over the years I have come to acknowledge that mercy is power. Hope is power, because it enables you to have something to fight for."
He nodded and as he approached her, Alienor could see he was holding a heated iron bar in his hands, its tip burning orange. He knelt down and caught a grip of her hair, crushing her lips beneath his. Alienor felt her head being yanked back to expose her neck. When he detached himself, he grinned.
"Power" he said, raising the iron bar, "is power."
And with that, he pressed the burning tip against her flesh, on the wounds on her neck. Alienor screamed and strugged and writhed but Alabaster just pressed harder, until he was obliged to remove it, for fear it would tear her all the way to the bone. He was not one to be discouraged so easily, however. The iron bar kissed her flesh a dozen times and when it was no longer burning, Alabaster unscrewed a vial and dipped a glowing green liquid on the burnt marks. Alienor foolishly thought it was some sort of potion at first, to heal her as Feardia had.
She always found astonishing the fact that, no matter how badly her throat hurt, how bloody her lips were, Alabaster could always make her scream anew.
"Wildfire." he informed her coldly. "Mingled with iron to strengthen the effect. Wouldn't want you to get bored now, would we?"
When he was tired of relishing her screams, he knelt down again and kissed her, his fingers lost in her raven hair. Every time she would struggle or undergo spasms, he would yank at it and hold her still or bite her lips bloody until she stopped producing sounds, were they grunts or cries or pleas.
"You will learn to be able not feel a thing when tortured. I will not have it said that my slaves are weak. Is that understood?" he said, an eternity later or so it had seemed to her. When she didn't answer, he unsheathed his own dagger and sliced at her skin, just below her collarbone.
"Yes." Alienor gasped.
Alabaster hacked her skin once more and she fought back another cry.
"Yes, my master."
He grinned triumphantly and thought that breaking her would be a lot easier and much more amusing than he had initially thought.

Three retched fools with a leather sack, Alabaster thought as they sank to their knees before him.The look of them did not encourage him. I suppose there is always a chance.
"Off your knees," he told the would-to-be-rich men, "Show me what you've brought me."
They rose, three ugly men, and ragged. One had a boil on his neck, and none had washed in half a year.The prospect of such people to have killed a handsome, holy angel amused him.I could seat them next to Alienor at feasts.When the chief fool undid the drawstring on the sack and plunged a hand insid, the smell of decay filled his audience chamber like some rank rose.The head he pulled out was grey-green and crawling with maggots. It smells like Eruda. His cupbearer gasped.
The vampire considered his prize, unflinching as they brought the body forth. "You've killed the wrong angel," he said at last, grudging every word.
"We never did," one of the fools dared to say."This got to be him, my Lord. An angel, see. He's rotted some, is all."
"He has also grown a new wing," Alabaster observed."A rather majestic one at that, I dare say. Jaxin lost his to the Faerie Queen during her stay."
The three fools exchanged a look. "No one told us,"said the one with head in hand."This one came as bold as you please, some pumpuous angel, so we thought..."
"He said he wasn't him," the one with the boild added," And you said he was lying."That was directed at the third man.
The vampire was angry to think he had kept his slave waiting for this mummer's farce. "You have wasted my time and slain the wrong creature. I should have your own heads off." But if he did, the next man would hesitate and let the boy slip his net. He would pile dead angels ten feet high before he let that happen. "Remove yourselves from my sight."
"Aye, my Lord," said the boil."We beg your pardons."
"Do you want the head?" asked the man who held it.
"Give it to my servant. No, in the sack, you lackwit. Yes, boy, see them out."
The cupbearer removed the head and the other boy the headsmen.
"Someone will find the angel, never fear." Atreyu assured him. "And when they do, we'll kill him good."
Will you?
"I have informers sniffing after the angel everywhere,Al." She had garbed herself in something very like a priestess' robes, but white instead of grey, immaculate. Whorls of gold decorated her breast, sleeves, and stiff high collar, and a golden sash was tied around her waist."Wherever he might run, my friends will find him."
"You assume he left the Vaith. He could be hiding in Ashmark for all we know, praying in the church and ringing the bells to produce that awful din." Alabaster handed his cup to the lad. "Have you made the preparations I asked of you?"
"I have, my Lord. I am sorry that it took so log. Such a lively girl. It took the leeches many hours to feed on her properly."
"No doubt."
A shadow Knight was always posted outside her 'chambers' as he liked to call her cell. Too much luxury would blur her judgement. When he entered, her wrists were held above her head by an iron chain. The metal had dug into her flesh, leaving bloody trails on her skin and her feet were just a few inches above the ground, enough to deny her body rest.
"Good day to you, my love." he greeted her cheerfully. Alabaster slid a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face up. When the girl didn't answer, his hand smacked her face, producing a loud thump. "Such bad manners," Alabaster observed thoughtfully, before seating himself right on her opposite, his face resting in his palm.
"Now," he began,"We shall play a game. I will say one word and you will tell me the one thing that pops up inside your pretty little head. How does that sound, my sweet?"
Alienor merely grunted in response.
"Death," he stated.
"Salvation." Alienor whispered in return.
"Prophecy."
"Cage."
"God," he went on.
"You."
Alabaster blinked and stared at her unflinching. "What makes you say I'm a God?"
A smile she soon regretted bloomed on her lips, just to vanish again when she felt the pain from her blood-cracked skin. "I never said you were one. You believe you are. And you will die as one."
He stroked a lock of her long, tangled hair. "And I suppose you would be the one to kill me, little one. Who do you think you are, then? A heroine? A deity?"
"You have created an image, the image of a leader. The crowds need not bury a mortal man. Your sins...your known sins will be tiny, but they will be enough for them to tear you apart. Nobody cries of the Gods that die by his hand, my Lord. Gods are born by men, as they are killed by them. With joy they dig his shallow grave, anticipating pains to come. They watch the wriggling dance of death, and laugh...light-hearted, at death's fun.
Anyone can be killed, my Lord."
"Give me one good reason I should not carve your eyes out, right at this moment, little one." He said, still smiling a frozen smile.
"You value beauty for it can deceive. You mean to use me, and for that, you need my eyes."
"We're done for now." he finished. As he took his leave, he laid an almost tender kiss on her lips before he slashed thrice at the flesh of her collarbone. Alabaster fumbled inside his coat for some moments to produce a clear vial, filled with crimson liquid. "Manage to feed, and I shall reward you. If it remains there the next time I visit you, you will undergo more torture."

As the vampire lord entered the dark cell again, hours later, he felt something cracking beneath his step. The vial had been broken into pieces and her lips were smeared with its contents.

I froze as he touched the stiffening stains on my frock. “Brother...” The word escaped my lips like a plea. He would condemn me. What else could he do? It was against everything he was. No love for me could overcome the heinous sin I had committed. Yet I could not lie to his face; no, not to my only loyal brother. “I..It is the blood of the soldiers I killed.” I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes. I couldn’t watch the horror pass his eyes, the lost look he would give me as he searched my face for an answer. The exact moment where his horror turned to disgust. It would haunt me for the rest of my existence.
I stood up, eyes still screwed shut. “I love you, Brother. Go in peace.” I backed away, and then swivelled around to hurry towards the castle. I ran, dodging the bodies littered around. The empty vials clinked against each other and I wished they would all break and be hushed, for once and for all.
Under the shadow of the castle, I felt better. Detached. As if the darkness claimed my soul and stole my emotions. I slipped in, the stench of blood not bothering anymore. I had to find Alabaster. He would bring Caydryn back. And everything would be alright.

Alabaster did not raise his eyes from Alienor's convulsing body, his fingers pressing into the punctured wounds on her chest, his hands soaked in her blood, flowing crimson, almost black, mapping splotched paths on the fabric of her armour. His own body was trembling, shaking with fear, fear so strong that made him wonder at the brutality with which it hit him. Fear that made his gut wrench tight, fear that made his eyes blur, fear that made his heart race. Alienor had done exactly what he had expected her to do, only Eruda had proven to be expecting it as well. She had seen loyalty in the girl- love, she had called it, but she just deluded herself in that. Alabaster would have never thought that his own slaves could be anything more than expendable- meant to be used and discarted as soon as their efficiency had been exhausted. And now there he was, watching the fleeting light fade from a young girl's eyes and using every ounce of his energy that he had left to keep her alive, to keep her close to him. She belonged to him, with him. The vampire was not yet done with her.
"What do you want, Fallen? This one is not dead yet, you may not have her." he snarled at Faye, who stood at the doorstep. "Leave me in peace and go pad after your precious Faerie."

"I will not." I had aleady steeled myself against the sight of the bloodied girl, but my heart trembled to behold her. Still, I ripped my eyes from her and directed them to Alabaster. I couldn't quite look him in the eye, but I brought my gaze as close to them as I dared. "I have come for what you promised me. You promised me, after the battle, you'd bring him back to me. So, do. Heal her quickly."

Alabaster's pale lips curled into a savage grin as he slowly turned to face the Fallen. When he spoke, his voice had acquired dangerously quiet tones, implying the intensity of the storm that was raging inside him. 'You...' he drawled 'You dare command me?'. The vampire's hands were soaked red, blood dripping from his fingertips. His step held no balance as he dragged his boots across the black marble towards the shivering girl. 'You pathetic, insolent w-'
His maddening insults were interrupted by a tortured cry of agony that came from the shaking figure behind his back. At once, his eyes darkened and stilled, fixing into the emptiness that only he coukd gaze at. Alienor's lips parted to release another painful sound.
'Leave. Leave me with her and I will revive your beloved little faerie pawn,' his voice trembled on the edge of breaking. He took another step towards Faye, his hands clutching at the air before closing in on her throat, squeezing lightly, only to rake at living flesh. 'But if she dies...' Alabaster's grin widened 'I will only bring him back to you so that you can witness his sliw death again and marvel at the sight of his corpse.'

His fingers did not steal my breath, his words did. I realized, perhaps too late, that I shouldn't have bothered him right now. I just hadn't known...that her wounds were so hideous. Or that he would care so much. I hadn't seen much of her in the past months, he hid her away from all of us. I thought he did that for her cruel training. But maybe that wasn't the only reason.
He let go of me, but the fingers of blood left over from his grasp remained clutched around my neck. I took it as his cue for me to leave. I hastened to get away from him, although Alienor's blood burned at my throat. Later, I wondered if it was because her blood was too pure for me, or just that her blood appalled me to my very bones.
Closing the door behind me, I asked myself where I could possibly go. I used to go to Feardia and Skye when I was scared or upset. Jaxin, too..sometimes. When I could find him. But they were all gone. My breathing hitched. For Alabaster threatened to murder Caydryn as soon as he rose, which means I would never have anyone ever again. I bit my quivering lip and made myself move from the door. I couldn't think like that, I told myself. I had to get ready for Caydryn's arrival.

Memories...gone. In his wake, tens of thousands of souls.
Silent.
"To me, then. I will take your pain, now."
"You are mortal."
"I am mortal."
"You cannot carry the pain of the dead."
"I can."
"You cannot deliver it-"
"I shall."
"Lucas-"
"His pain, Hood. Now."
It rose before him, a wave of immeasurable height, rose, towering, then plunged towards him.
And she saw.
She saw Alabaster's welcoming smile.

Benediction. Godless, he could not give it. Not in its truest form.
But he had not comprehended the vast capacity within him, within a mortal soul, to take within itself the suffering of tens of thousands, the multitudes who had lived with loss and pain for almost a thousand years.
He saw faces, countless faces. Desiccated, eyes nothing more than shadowed pits. Dry, torn skin. He saw bone glimmering from between layers of root-;ike tendons and muscles. He saw hands, chipped, splintered, empty now- et the ghost of swords lingered there still.
He was on one knee, looking out upon their rankes, and it was raining, a wavering deluge acocmpanied by reverberating groans, splintering cracks filling the darkness above.
He looked upon them, and they were motionless, heads bowed, save for one.
Yet he could see their faces. Each face. Every face.
I have your pain.
Heads slowly lifted. He sensed them, sensed the sudden lightness permeating them. I have done all I am able to do. Yet it was not enough, I know. Yet. I have taken your suffering-'
"You have taken my suffering, mortal."
Into myself-
"I do not understand how."
And so you will now come with me-
"I do not understand...why."
For all that my flesh cannot encompass-
"Answer me."
I will take with me.
"Mortal-"
Somehow.
"The reason. Please. That you would so-"
I am the...
"Mortal?"
Your pardon. You wish to know of me. I am... a mortal as you say. A man, born years ago in the city of Ehrlitan. My family name before I surrendered it to Alucard was Leicester. My father was a hard, just man. My mother knew how to smile. I became so much more than what they had hoped for, and yet so much less.
Alucard, I wonder. In Alucard, did I find just another prison?
I am no Leicester. I am Alabaster. And I dare reach out to you, dead man, and bring you back because I wield such power. Because I am no longer....mortal.
"You spoke of yourself, yet I still do not understand your compassion-"
You speak of compassion, faerie. I understand something now, of compassion. Would you hear?
"Speak on, mortal."
Mortals do not understand compassion. In each moment of their lives, they betray it. We betray it. Aye, we know of its worth, yet in knowing we then attach to it a value, we guard the giving of it, believing it must be earned.
"I do not understand still."
There is always more to do, it seems.
"You do not answer my question-"
No.
"Why?"Beneath the rain, as darkness gathered, withe every face raised to him, Alabaster closed himself about all that he held within him, closed himself, then he fell back. Back.
Because I am not yet done.
And beneath the torrential rain, he breathed.

Caydryn couldn't remember where he was, nor who he was. All he was aware of was painful pulling sensation in his mind. If he had hands, he would be holding his head. But he didn’t have a head anymore either. Memories were escaping his mind, all of them. Emotions were floating away. The lyrics of his first lullaby abandoned him. What was left of his conscience was being torn into shards and they were being drawn agonizingly somewhere else.
He had no idea how long it lasted. Time is not a factor in pain. Torment feels everlasting to those who suffer it. But as everything does, it ended. For then, it all surged back. Memory after memory flooded back into his mind, and he cried out, for the amount of years he lived were all coming to him in milliseconds. Now he did have a head and he was clutching it tightly. Fear feels everlasting as well. But when it died down, he realized he had the ability to think. His first thought: Where am I? He opened his eyes beneath his fingers and was assaulted by the light of the room. He squeezed his eyes shut again, as the pain in his mind intensified. He was aware he wasn't alone. He was also aware he was naked, on a cold floor, and silence was heavy in the air, as if his company were waiting for him.
He speculated as to where he could be. His last memories were the last feeble moments on his death bed. But he no longer felt feeble. In fact, he didn't remember feeling like this for many years. This was youth.
It was wrong.
Braving the light, he opened his eyes and lay down his hands. At first, he was blinded, but he refused to close his eyes. Slowly, slowly his eyesight returned, albeit blurry, bringing with it his surroundings. He was in a damp room, with only one shuttered window. There was one chair in the corner, its two back legs pathetically twisted out of shape. There were two people standing silently in front of him. A man and a girl. Black and white. Before he could examine them thoroughly, he saw a neat pile of clothes next to him. He still felt the necessity of warmth, even in all his confusion. Quickly, he dressed himself, keeping care never to turn his back to the strangers. In the back of his mind, a little voice told him he ought to be ashamed to be seen naked, but he was too preoccupied by whether his onlookers wanted to harm him, than to worry about what they thought of him. That done, he straightened up.
Although knowing appearances were deceiving, the man seemed the most dangerous, and fixed his eyes on him first. His memories gave him a name immediately, but he couldn't remember who this man was. Alabaster. His presence was ominous.
Now he gazed upon the girl. Her face was veiled, but everything about her was familiar. Her height, the way her hair still looked beautiful in tangles, the way she held her hands to her breast, the exact shade of her wings... Hatred rose up within him, as torrents and torrents of memories wreaked havoc in his mind, all showing him that she was his foe, a cursed enemy, someone who wanted to watch him suffer.
He darted at her furiously. He didn't even have time to wonder again at his strength and steadiness before he grabbed a hold on her. She gasped, and cowered, but his hands clasped around her neck. She didn't struggle, but fell limp at his touch. He wanted to see her face as she died; her eyes dim as they realized tormenting him was the cost of her life. He pulled the veil off. Her eyes were wide and filled with water. None of that made him sympathize with the bitch.
But it was her grey eyes that reminded him that he should be enchanted. He should have been embracing her, not killing her. His hands shouldn't be able to murder her.
It meant he was free.
Immediately, he dropped her. He was tied to her no longer. He would not do anything more to do with her, not even kill her. If he killed her, she would forever be a part of him. And that was everything he didn't want. He stepped back from her trembling form and turned to Alabaster. She was clearly of no import to him, as he had not tried stop Caydryn.
"Why have you brought me here?" His voice was soft and calm. Caydryn thanked his gods that it did not betray his confusion, his wonder, his horror. Caydryn was a Faerie King, and he would not appear weak to Alabaster. Memories came again, stories of a dark he-monster with no capabilities of mercy. Alabaster wasn't here to welcome him home; he was here to get a profit. Whether that profit was him, or something completely else, he didn't know.