A man had appeared in the middle of the hall. He must have come through a door I hadn't noticed - there was no feasible explanation otherwise - and in his hand was a small piece of paper.

Wisps of black smog curled around him like the frightened phantoms from my nightmares. Like those that tormented me, his were equally as ominous, but they never dared enough to get any closer.

They merely twisted around him like a shield, merging him with the shadows cast by the dim lights that illuminated the hall, his own personal bodyguards.

Their darkness cloaked him until the only I could see were his piercing blue eyes, ice cold irises swarmed with mass indifference and killing intent.

I swallowed, feeling a bit faint as that deadly gaze landed on me - or at least I thought it did. He could have been looking at anybody but that didn't stop a chill from running down my spine.

My wounds had barely healed - not even begun scabbing over - yet now they suddenly ached. The collective pain nearly brought me to my knees.

I almost staggered. But I didn't dare to.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to remaining standing, my nails digging painfully into the part of the table I used to keep my body upright and cooperative - stiff and statuesque.

I found myself lost in the arctic swirls that should have served as a window to this man's demonic soul but only acted as bait to draw me closer to my destined demise, my vision suddenly cleared.

And I knew I was falling, like a moth to the flame.

He was the picture of beauty and elegance - and death. His skin too pale, eyes too bright, clothes too morbid and smile too bewitching; he looked too fragile to exist in a place as twisted as The Syndicate, and yet here he was. The devil in black wool.

Danger and seduction with a beautiful man as the thorn-filled package.

Following those thoughts was a urge that shattered the compulsion to draw near and lose myself in him - I will be rescued - and my eyes managed to break free and find the silver cross that hung down the chain around his collar - and the ruby skulls that decorated it.

I was the first to bow, overcome by trepidation when I realized who I had been unabashedly gazing at. The grogginess vanished immediately.

Now clearheaded, I greeted my the man who had cut into me for x number of days and drained me of blood for the rest. "This humble one greets Lord Dominus, 36th Overseer of The Syndicate."

It was only when the words left me that I realized that my seniors were still trapped in stupor, still standing at attention, silent as the corpses of those who should have been with me today - my deceased dungeon mates, the victims of the monster I had just finished perusing.

Silence. I gulped and discretely pinched my thigh as punishment for letting my thoughts stray twice in a day, then straightened up, not daring to make anymore slips in front of a mind-reader.

As I kept my eyes forward and fixed on a spot in the darkness behind the Overseer, I tried to ignore the fact that I had done the one thing I had sworn I'd never do.

I had brought attention to myself on my first day out.