Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 52 The Empire Lives

    Thanatos could not sleep. It was getting worse. Ever since that day, his first time communing with the spirit of death, he has not been able to sleep peacefully. Voices came and went on a whim, the faint screams of the dead and dying calling out to him from beyond the veils. He had heard the warning when he became the new vessel for Thanatos that he would try to free himself at some point. He's listened to the grizzly stories of past users: some go insane rather quickly, their minds twisted with the knowledge that Thanatos would insert into them, far too fabulous for NY mortal mind to comprehend. Others succumbed to the screaming and deprivation of their thoughts, disturbed by Thanatos, and took their own lives. One even killed himself with a black sword that Thanatos wielded in godhood, and that treasure remains on the Dark Isle to this day, unrecovered. And then others who tried to allow Thanatos to be free. Who's very being was torn to shreds as the spirit attempted to rip itself free from its host, their souls obliterated into oblivion. William now realizes himself the fool to think himself so different. They promised him that the seals were more robust, that Thanatos would be well and secure, and that he was no threat to himself.

He stared at the gathered pile of broken mirror parts on the table. They were going to throw it away, but he kept it. He doesn't know why, but the voices, the voices, they weren't so loud when he stared at the mirror pieces. The visage of Thanatos was in each of them, a calm, patient expression in his gaze, eyes that bore through his soul, commanding it to submit to him. And every time he tried to close his eyes for sleep or turn away, the screaming only got worst.

"I'm William Dulmont," he chanted almost without thought. "William Dulmont. William Dulmont. William Dulmont. William Dulmont. William. William. William. William. William."

All the lanterns and candles in the room suddenly went out, leaving him in complete darkness. The mirror still reflected all those visages of Thanatos looking back at him. HE blinked, and suddenly, they were gone, replaced with his face. The whispers stopped, and his mind once again cleared. But then, he tried to close his eyes and let sleep come to him in bliss. And the whispers resumed, louder than before. Finally, his eyes opened, and his gaze darted around the room to see spirits, ghastly faces hanging around him, their mouths agape with words appearing in his mind. Souls who have yet been taken to their place in the afterlife. Now they were repeating his name.

William.

William.

William.

Tears fell from his eyes as his name became foreign to him. Things he tried to recall became difficult to be brought forth. The first time he became a squire. His father's last words as he died on that deathbed. His mother's name began to fall from his mind like leaves flung away by the autumn breeze. He looked back at the shards, but they were gone. They had been reassembled back in their frame. Thanatos was still there looking back at him.

"I will never submit to you," he growled.

Thanatos said nothing in return. Just patience. But then Thanatos noticed something. His wings were missing. He still held his black sword, but the massive wings that usually frame his body was gone. This confused his mind further until he felt a hum through the air. He turned back to his desk; the small ball of darl crystal was now humming with a soft purple light. It was Atalanta. This was strictly used for emergencies; who knows how the godslayers apprehend their spies? That was why they called upon Erebus to deliver the last messages personally. He walked over and placed his hand over the smooth surface. The darkness was suddenly consumed with light as a voice began to ring within his mind, momentarily overpowering his whispers.

"I was told this was not to be used here," he said through strain.

"We have received your words from Erebus," Atalanta said. "It is the Prime Noctus who ordered this call. Your performance has been less than satisfactory, Thanatos. We were under the impression that you would conduct yourself covertly, sewing doubt amongst the godslayers while being free of suspicion. The fact that the lioness had the confidence to do what she has done speaks to your incompetence. We think it is better to pull you from this operation and reevaluate your state as a vessel-"