"Rajul what?"

"As I just stated-" Kraim began again, eyes bored. "Rajul was killed by a Beast during the slaughter raid in Eux. The Thing of Eyes and Teeth was the only survivor."

"Huh."

Kraim's hands folded against each other, watching as the king took another deep inhale of the sefkhet leaves burning in front of him. He didn't know why he expected much more of a reaction after working for the man this long, but it still irked him to no end to see him bark out a laugh, thick, dark hands thrown up into a shrug. "Well, I suppose he wasn't all that great of a general then, to have fallen so easily."

Some of the plant's smoke made its way to where he stood, and Kraim frantically waved it away. Despite lacking any ability to smell its supposedly sweet, yet rotten egg-like scent, he had no desire to have the substance affect his thinking. He had far too much to do today, unlike those who could afford to lay about. "Again," he ground out. "I'm more concerned on the fact that he was our only general, your highness."

The king reclined further into the colourful pillows laid about the fine rug on the floor, mothy grey brows drawing together in confusion. "Didn't you used to be a general before all this, Kraim? You already know what needs to be done, and more than fine enough at your job to fall short. You're worrying too much again."

"A-actually," Kraim tried to explain, once again getting the feeling that no matter what he said, it would be ignored. "It is precisely because of my time in the army that I feel it is in our better interest to recruit others so it doesn't all fall on the shoulders of one man."

"Well, you've got Xoris, don't you? Say, what happened to it ever gaining those grey eyes you thought could save us?" He paused to pluck a fig off a plate of various fruits in front of him. "Any news on that?"

"I think it's closer to getting them, yes. When I last spoke to it, it seemed extremely... emotional, and much like the first time it used its powers, I think that could be the very thing that-"

"Kraim." The king's voice dropped its playfulness, deep brown eyes landing on the advisor. "That's what you said the time before, and the time before that."

Panic trickled through him, and Kraim met his gaze to avoid any further disrespect. "I... I am aware, but if I could just have a bit more time—"

"No. No more time. Whatever final task you have for it, if Xoris isn't replacing Rajul, and it doesn't get those grey eyes within the next tally, I'm ordering it to be killed."

Kraim's eyes shot open at that. A single tally?

Ten days. That was all he had to get the Thing of Eyes and Teeth to find the Vampire and bring back information?

He bit at his lip. He hadn't been planning to explain all that to the king, but perhaps if he knew, the terms could be lightened a bit. Straightening his spine, he continued to press. "What if I told you it needed to stay alive because it could gather enemy information?"

"So we learn a bit more about the Stained. It hardly matters." He plucked a single grape from the plate, chewing it lazily. "You're the self-appointed Beast expert, and yet we don't even have the power needed to revive our troops. How are more useless facts going to change anything?"

Kraim took a deep breath to calm himself before realising his mistake. The air was far too full of smoke, and his words were broken by coughs, tears springing to his eyes. "Because— there might be something controlling the Stained. A Higher Beast."

The king gave him a blank stare. "A Higher Beast? Do you hear yourself, Kraim?"

"I know it sounds impossible but-"

"That's because it is." The man took another inhale from the smoking dish. "Stop wasting my personal time with nonsense. You have a single tally, now excuse yourself."

"... Yes, sire."

"And Kraim?"

He stiffened at his name, but forced himself to wordlessly turn back one last time.

"Stop pouring dye in your hair. You look Stained."

He turned back around, glaring at the wall the moment his face was out of view. "Of course."

Pushing through the beaded curtain of the doorway, Kraim exited the room, struggling not to let his fingers ball into fists. Stained? Him? The one person actually putting any effort into trying to end the war anymore?

A cold fury began to curl from somewhere deep within him. How dare the king put him in the same category as the Thing of Eyes and Teeth: a Beast that devoured Humans alive. All because the dark, purple roots that had sprung up in his otherwise blond hair had begun to grow out. That wasn't the same as dying it; he knew very well how unlucky Staining hair was. No. This was simply what happened ever since he'd begun testing so closely with the Vilves, yet another example of what he was willing to sacrifice for the people. His people.

So why? The thought echoed in his mind once again. Why is it all left up to me?

"Kraim?"

A twinge of anger shot through him at the sound of yet another voice, and he whirled around, hands clenched and the skin on his face feeling tight. "What?"

"I-I'm sorry, imy Ajzuri." The servant, a girl no older than fifteen Withers, lowered her head, black, beaded braids falling with her. "I didn't mean to anger you. It's simply that..." Dark hands shakily lifted a cup to Kraim's height. Deep, abyssal black liquid almost sloshed out of its golden rim from her fear, the drink only saved by the thick consistency. "You said you wanted y-your medicine by the eighth turn."

"Oh."

Immediately, the rage drained away, guilt flooding through him as she continued to flinch deeper into her simple white dress. He brushed his own robes down, fixing a sympathetic smile on his face for her. "Apologies, Sakil. That wasn't intended for you. It's simply..."

But, no matter how he thought about it, no reasoning was justified from taking out his frustrations at her. She was young, innocent, and plagued by just as much danger as anyone else under the king's foolish reign. "I'm sorry. It's been a stressful tally with the Thing of Eyes and Teeth back, and I've so much paperwork to do without Rajul filing reports–" And his keep needs to be reassigned, as do the troops in the Second Direction, but if there is a Higher Beast, the Stained might strategize and-

"It's fine. Are you... all right Kraim? Your face is..." Sakil paused for a moment, and Kraim hated the worried, almost frightened look in her brown eyes.

"What? What about it?" He lightly brushed his fingers across his cheek, but nothing was there.

"It just looked like– or, well..." She shook her head. "Never mind, but you do look incredibly pale. Are you sure you're not overworking yourself again?"

"No, I'm fine," he assured her, giving the girl a curt nod. Then a sigh left him, and he scrubbed at his eyes. Or perhaps he wasn't. His mind felt like a complete, muddled mess, his insides strangely ached, and trying to work in such a state was pointless. He thought for a moment. Perhaps a quick bath wouldn't hurt. Besides– He plucked the chalice off Sakil's tray with a simple thanks. I have to drink this anyway.

A sense of gratitude filled his chest, and he gave her one last smile. "I appreciate the concern though. It's pleasant knowing truly kind and helpful people are out there." He waited for Sakil to finish absorbing confidence off the compliment, standing straight with her own grin before continuing. "Speaking of, can you tell the others I'd like a gathering tonight? Same room as always."

"Really?" She tipped her head at him. "But I thought you said you were waiting on the Thing of Eyes and Teeth to play its part... unless you figured something else out?"

Kraim raised the cup to his lips, letting it run down his throat. It was smooth, bubbling despite the intense cold it held, and thick. Always thick, but that was because it was full of promise. It had to be. He only had ten days.

He nodded. "I have news, so spread the word. Tonight, four turns after the sky's close. Delhi should have returned by then, and hopefully, he'll bring the last part we'll need."

"I see. Well... take care until then, please?"

Taking steps further down the hall, he only hummed in response. The sentiment was kind, but in this case, unnecessary. Everything was under control. He would get it under control, and then no one else would have to fall by the Stained's hands. By that thing's hands.

The woven tarp over the doorway was lifted with ease, and then Kraim was in an ornate room, walls covered in carved plaques of gold, clay pots that only an artisan could produce, and most importantly, a large tub of pure white stone.

Woven barrels of water sat besides it, already filtered and waiting to be poured in. Usually water was regulated, sent by the High Court of Majes to make sure that each and every person received their fair share, but being the High Court's overseer had its perks. As much as the idea of nobles selfishly abusing their power struck a nerve with him, the ability to bathe as he pleased was the one thing he allowed for himself.

Reaching for the barrel, he'd just begun to lift the waxed reeds when he heard another voice at the door, this time a man's.

"Kraim? Do you need someone to dress you down? Or set the water for you?"

He stiffened, eyes wide as his mouth stretched into a thin line. "No, Kasr. As always, I can do it myself."

"Very well."

The breath he hadn't known he'd been holding only left him once the soft footsteps were no longer able to be heard. He upended the barrel's contents, the red neatly collecting in the tub until it filled. Then, all he had to do was take hold of the light blue crystal left near the other water basin, and trace the water's surface until the majik it held cooled it to a more pleasant temperature.

Removing his robes and the few silver rings adorning his left hand, it was a relief to sink himself into the refreshing, red liquid. It pooled up around him, only broken by the top half of his torso as he leaned back, resting his neck and arms on the basin's edge. The cup Sakil gave him still sat on a shelf nearby. He reached for it.

Why? The thought echoed in his mind again as he lightly sipped at the liquid. Why would anyone in their right mind want servants to help them bathe? The very idea of sharing a room like that made his face flush. Then again, it was simply more noble behaviour he doubted he would understand no matter how long he lived in their shadows.

And yet working for them is the only way I can assure anything gets accomplished anymore. For three Withers he had played the role of the king's advisor, only to watch Korim depleted down to the last ten percent of its resources. For three Withers he had watched town after town fall to slaughter raids, filling out countless reports of how many Humans had fallen to the war.

But no one cared if yet another town was overrun by a flock of Pruul. No one cared to hear of new ideas and what more could be done to save anyone. No. They cared more of pleasuring themselves with the spoils of their riches than taking care of the very people whose backs provided the wealth.

He stared into the endlessness of the drink in front of him, annoyed. It was as though they were tired, and simply wanted to enjoy themselves before it all fell apart.

Though one day, everything will be gone in the inevitable splitting of the universe itself.

Kraim jolted upright, the tub's surface rippling as he frantically glanced around him. For a room he had ensured no one had followed him into, he could have sworn he heard... not a voice, but something made up of pure intention, or maybe the lack thereof. Whatever it spoke of, its meaning was lost, confusing as his mind filled with the image of looking up into a sky filled with twinkling white lights that seemed to go on forever.

But that wasn't right. The sky was black, a protective barrier to shield from the blue that lay beyond. Even as he reminded himself of it though, his skin bristled, feeling cold, and shivery, mind consumed by the thought of stepping into that reality, one where he was impossibly small, his actions pointless.

A reality where drinking Us changes nothing in the end. A preemptive downfall before all is taken. Another time, another path, just as probable as the next if the Devourer walks in the right direction.

There it came again: the horrifying, numbing feeling spreading through all but his skin. He twitched, looking at his own hands now. ...Was I cursed?

Kraim had never heard of majik that could force itself into another's mind, but he couldn't think of much else. Aggravation flickered through him, the skin on his face feeling taunt once again. As if he became angered enough, it would split in two.

He pushed himself up out of the scarlet water slightly, glowering at his surroundings. "Show yourself!"

But the room, and his mind for that matter, remained silent. After several drips of silence, he lowered himself back down. Perhaps he had imagined it, but his body had yet to shake the prickling chill no matter how long he waited.

So much for relaxing.

With a sigh, Kraim put a hand beneath the water, watching the crimson trickle lazily through his fingers. Then again, why had he thought he'd had the option to do that at all? Recently, breaks had been a pointless endeavour, what with having to run nightly meetings, manage the military, oversee each ration of water and meat to avoid accidental Stain breakouts, watching over the Thing of Eyes and Teeth... He didn't need to imagine strange, voiceless voices to sour any down time he sought out. A bitter laugh left his lips. I almost miss being on the frontlines.

Those were simple days, when he had thought the majik he'd been born with would help him avenge his kin, and from there, all of Humanity. When Stained's blood was scattered across the land by his own hands and it eased some of the ache his father's absence had left behind.

At least, until he'd learned it all meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. The Stained kept coming, Humans kept falling, and unless that were to change, the course of the war was set.

His gaze lowered to the golden rim of the cup once more, watching the mesmerising white sparkles shift in the liquid's depths once more. As dull-witted as the king could be at times, Kraim had to agree with him on one note. With the amount of Human lives lost to the war daily, they were running out of people to work with. Children could not be produced fast enough to compensate, majik was too rare a resource to simply provide more healers, even more so with the Fae nearly extinct...

Remembering that too, aggravated him, and he took another sip of the Vilve blood if only to feel the sense of calm, empty emotionlessness that followed it.

No. The only option left was to revive those that had already fallen, and the only way to do that was to have the Thing of Eyes and Teeth finally prove useful, or undo the effects of time itself.

He wasn't sure when the idea had struck him. Perhaps it was when the Thing of Eyes and Teeth had him go scouring through his notes after failing yet again to retrieve Xeth's notorious grey eyes, but once he'd thought of it, he couldn't stop. All Humans needed to do to even the odds was undo the effect of death, and if the body could be pulled back to before it had ever perished in the first place, Humanity would win.

Of course, the king hadn't particularly liked that idea either. Controlling time, space... those were powers reserved for the Vilves. The gods' creatures. They were supposedly meant to be left alone, respected, and revered.

Well, if Palkhiv hadn't wanted his soldiers to be captured, he would have stopped me from doing so.

In fact, it'd been easy to bring them to the castle in the pitch black of the closed sky. The problem was getting them to revive the dead. No matter how he'd prayed, begged, threatened, or even lathered the Beast's remains on the dead, that was how they stayed. Dead.

The final sip of blood ran down his throat, and he set the chalice down. That made thirty-two, and he doubted drinking this essence brought him any closer to obtaining the elusive race's powers than the last. It was intoxicatingly sweet, and far better than any wine, but whether he enjoyed it at this point didn't matter. Either way it was all so...

Pointless.

He continued to stare blankly at the tall, arched stone of the ceiling. It wasn't working. There was no way to save those lost to the wars, no way to make up for the hundreds the Thing of Eyes and Teeth had slaughtered under his care, and there was no way to prevent the world from falling into ruin. He would have cried if not for the soothing numbness that the drink brought him.

Shame that blood and wine offer more comfort than people.

Lifting his hand, Kraim watched scarlet drops of water run through his fingers once more. After a moment, he pulled at his majik to shape the droplets into bubbles. It was a habit or boredom, done with half closed eyes as he always did when he attempted to relax, but the water– and the magik for that matter– stayed put.

His eyes snapped open as a burning pain shot through him. Immediately, he cut off the connection, feeling the agony in his chest die down only to be replaced by rapid, panicked breathing. That was the second time in a matter of days. Something was off.

He stared at his hand. It trembled, the air itself seeming to twitch around it. Giving it a wary look, he tried once more to coax his majik to his fingertips, the same as he had as a soldier, the same as he had being their general, and the same as he had as an advisor from there, but it felt different now. It felt feral, sharp, scraping at his insides like a fork to a melon rind.

A scream tore through him, although it sounded more like a high-pitched howl of wind as it tore through his ears. The pain only rose the more he tried to grab at it, his skin feeling tighter until it threatened to rip in half. He didn't know what was happening, or how to stop. A new feeling had curled around the warmth of his old majik: power that sat solidly in his chest, refusing to remove, refusing to aid him.

He trembled. Am I... dying?

But he couldn't die. Not now. Not when so many depended on him to save them from the Stained.

His body curled tighter around itself, the air around him feeling tense and warped. Inside him, an agony spread, made up of a cold so intense that it burned like fire. It hurts. It hurts so sekhif much. His teeth grit, and he shouted one final cry.

"Stop!"

Another howl like wind replaced his words, followed by the sound of pure emptiness. The pain melted away into nothing, and for a moment, he sat there. Doing nothing, being nothing. It was a strange, perfect state, having all senses desert him to simply exist alone.

Then there came another snap, and reality came crashing back to provide dripping water followed by the image of an ornate washroom with him on the opposite end, staring at the tub he'd been in only moments before.

Heavy breaths escaped him, though strangely no heartbeat rang in his ears. He glanced around the room to find it covered in shattered dishes that had once held soap, a clear crack in the stone floor, a metal basin torn cleanly in half...

He stared at it, confused. "What happened?"

Did I do this? No, my majik can't break through stone. So what... His eyes flicked to his hands.

Then he screamed. His voice sounded far breathier than usual, but his attention was entirely focused on the flesh of his hands hanging in tapered bits, a dark, black Crack webbing through his very skin.

Instantly, he was shrieking, pinching at each sinew-like string, to pull, stretch, and piece it over the purple hues that shifted beneath his skin. His fingers only sunk further in though, pale skin peeling away as if the void concealed held a force of its own, one that consumed all that sought to enter.

A force like a Vilve.

A shaky laugh echoed through him. No... it can't be? Could it? But if something hadn't changed, a wound this deep should have sprung blood, bright green leaking onto the floor. And now that he took a good look at it, he couldn't see any veins either.

Excitement rose in his chest, though it only lasted for a moment before the emptiness began to eat away at that too. So he rose off the floor slowly, letting the scarlet run off him before drying and replacing his robes. In front of him was a mirror, and he drew closer to it.

His face looked shattered. A large, branching Crack ran through it, holding the same, shifting dots of white behind it as the very blood he drank.

Hello Devourer.

A strange, dazed feeling settled over him as the voice returned, a presence filled him, although it didn't match perfectly with what he had felt before. This time it almost seemed... younger? Separate, yet connected. But he didn't have the mental capacity to be bothered right now as a grin pulled across his cheeks, the tip of it reaching another break in his flesh. There should have been bone under that. A skull, a brain, muscles, blood, but they must have been unnecessary, because it was all gone now.

Reaching up, his fingers slipped between the split, diving into a brutal, shredding plane. For Nothing, it was strangely painful, but he could barely feel it as he pushed his hand further and further in until he was up to his elbow. Then he chuckled, the action shaking his whole body as he removed his arm. Finally, he stared into his eyes, finally noticing that at some point, they'd gone from a pale brown to a bright indigo, his blond hair now a pinkish-purple that faded down into yellow tips.

He brushed the bangs out of his face, admiring the Crack weaving across his forehead, his nose, and ending at his cheek. He quite liked the look of it actually, and while he was sure he could piece it back together, it could wait.

For now– He turned to the rest of the room, noticing for the first time how the world itself seemed like nothing more than a thin veil. It sat there, unmoving, because there was no need to move. Time was already everywhere. Distance was everywhere, waiting to be torn apart.

Another presence, also different. There were a lot of them, all blended together, coming and going through his system as they pleased, each one filling Kraim with a sense of knowledge, wonder, whimsy, power. They shouted out in a language only he could understand, wordless sentences echoing in an empty mind: One day it will all be gone. The universe will be eaten away by entropy itself, and only We will be watching the final, glorious peace the End will bring. Only We will know how wonderful it feels to shred it to nothingness.

An elated feeling spread through the daze, and a Crack sprang up next to his hand, one side of the room wrenched cleanly away from the other as the negative space between it filled with that same, black nothingness. Around him, he could feel the very fabric of everything: the pieces that made up every single thing, living or not, slowly falling apart with each movement through time. Kraim's breath caught in his throat, the smile returning.

Then it was gone: the happiness, the whimsy... Kraim's eyes fluttered open, and he was back to feeling hollow, like something had been promised to him, and now it was gone.

I don't even know what caused it.

All he knew was that the room around him was broken, and he'd done it. His eyes trailed to the empty cup on the floor. That must have been it. That was what had given him the power to do all this. That was what had made him happy.

He picked it back up, smiling softly at his shattered reflection. It was Cracked, just like the very power the Vilves used to control time itself.

I... did it.

His people, his troops... They could all be saved, and all because he'd never given up on finding the answers he'd known has been out there all along.

He smiled, softly. We don't need the Thing of Eyes and Teeth. We can bring them all back. No Stained. No ten day limit.

I'll save them all. My way.