The monster cleared his throat and looked into the paper in his hand, and I watched the fair skin of his neck, painfully, through the corner of my right eye. He was a being of grace, too composed to be the true manifestation of the fangs and claws I'd envisioned in the dungeon.

I started to doubt myself, my fingers itching to scratch at the bandage over my eye. I needed to see what he had done to me. I needed to hate him. I needed revenge.

"Three-six-two five-a?" he asked so quietly that it had to be the darkness that carried the question to me. The words warmed my ears like he was right behind me, leaning over my shoulder and whispering. His voice was softer than cotton or wool - or their aural equivalents. It was hypnotic, almost making me forget that this same man had starved me, chained me in silver, killed dozens of children my age. . .

The doubt multiplied.

"Here." Obediently, I stepped out and forward, my hands clasped behind my back as I took in the confusion that tainted his innocent beauty for a split second.

It was almost as if he was surprised that I was the only one, the whole weight of Batch 3-6-2 5-A set squarely on my shoulders. Maybe he had expected more to survive his brutal idea of an initiation.

I began walking to him almost instinctively, compelled by the sudden knowledge that he wanted to take a closer look at me. I kept my steps slowly and calculated - silent. My seniors were still asleep and I needed no more enemies.

For ten steps I mentally debated whether to keep my head down or continue observing my master. Somehow I saw the corner of his lip twitch, interpreted it as amusement.

I was already staring at him.

Now just a mere metre away, I manage to identify his previous surprise as delighted.

He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the air; I watched blue flames engulf my batch number and burn it to ash that flaked the marble floor artistically.

Information about my master immediately rushed to the forefront of my mind, the little knowledge I had on my predator.

Dominus was the youngest among the Overseers, the 36th. He had been in his position for two periods and I was the result of his fifth try at initiating.

Finally, I stopped right in from of him, his features more breathtaking now as I realize what his surprise had meant after piecing it together with the previous reactions of my seniors.

My Overseer hadn't expected a survivor. I was the first of all his batches. I was the only one.

The doubt vanished.