I flipped through the file Shatterbone had presented, pretending it mattered to me in the slightest what was written on any of the pages.  On Earth, you would’ve called this kind of thing opposition research.  There were second-hand reports of heretical things Mona had said or done at the Academy, including “sexual conduct unbecoming a priestess.”

After what I felt was a suitable time, I closed the folder, tapped my claws upon it, then looked at Shatterbone evenly.  “I already knew all of this, General.”

Shatterbone nodded.  “And yet you did nothing?”

“Why would I?  Do you know of a better pyromancer in this tower than Desdemona Fell?  If you find one, bring her to me.”  I raised an eyebrow at Phaedra.  “You have created a new weapon, Priestess Midnight.  I don’t believe you have fully realized it, but so have I.  You misunderstood something about my interest in the High Priestess.”  I thought of what Mona had told me, the words she herself had used.  “She is an instrument, a tool.  One I have crafted to be as deadly as possible.”

“Others could benefit from such a boon, Dark Lord.”

“Like Phaedra,” I said, looking at her.

“I’ve taken the liberty of compiling a list in order of importance,” Shatterbone said.  “But yes, Priestess Midnight is, in my military opinion, the most vital.”

“A list?” I asked.  I raised an eyebrow.  “How long is this list?”  I wasn’t keen to hatefuck Phaedra, but if it were my only salvation, I would have been a fool not to.  Assuming that would even work.

Physically, she wasn’t bad looking.  On a deeper level, she was somewhat terrifying, but I could think of worse.  I knew Mona would hate the idea, though it all seemed a moot point, considering Phaedra was only the first of however many demons Shatterbone expected me to bone.  And there remained the fact that I didn’t know precisely what had given Mona her surge in power.  She hadn’t reacted that way the first time we were together.  Even Mona had seemed surprised by it.  We’d done something new and unexpected.

Part of me wondered if it was the bond we had shared, the link that now connected our Wills, and if so, I had no idea how I was supposed to duplicate that with Phaedra or anyone else.

Shatterbone waved his hand dismissively, “Oh, not too many.”

He snapped his fingers, and Krez opened his bottom folder, handing a small stack of pages to Shatterbone.

My stomach clenched at the sight of it.  With a sigh, I held out my hand.  “Let me see, then.  Do you think that my vital essences are so abundant?”

Shatterbone blinked momentarily, and I saw a crease form on his forehead.  Just one, but still.  “Considering a paladin received your benediction, Dark Lord, we thought it only natural that perhaps some of the finest soldiers in the First Legion, as well as—”

Wait, soldiers in the First Legion?  How did they think this worked?  Did they think it was merely my blood?  Or did they have no idea what I’d done and just assumed it was repeatable?

“—certain other essential personnel, such as Phaedra, would similarly be worthy of such treatment.”

“The ritual that I performed with the High Priestess is not something I can repeat however many times this is,” I said, leafing through at least twenty pages of names in small font.

“Understandable,” Shatterbone said.  “Part of my reasoning for having Phaedra be the first beneficiary of your ritual is that she will collect data on your health during the entire process to ensure that we have no more scares like we did earlier today.”

His keen eyes looked at me calmly, but a few more lines had crept onto his forehead.  He was used to getting his way and didn’t like anyone questioning him.  Not even me.

“Also,” I said, “due to certain constraints of the ritual…”  My brain searched for the right words to talk my way out of this.  “…I am unable to offer it to everyone.”  If I even knew exactly what I’d done.  But that part I couldn’t give voice to.  My ignorance was something that needed to stay a secret.

“I’d assumed it was your blood that had—”

“My blood is not nearly so strong as that.”

“Ah,” Shatterbone said, raising an eyebrow but getting the idea.  “I see.”  He chuckled.  “Well, surely Priestess Midnight is still a suitable target for any such rituals, is she not?”

I looked towards Phaedra for a moment, then back to Shatterbone.  “It will require some time,” I said.  “To prepare.”  I had run out of excuses, refusals, and now the best excuse I could think of was to play for time.

“For those who cannot receive the full ritual,” Shatterbone said, “perhaps simply an infusion of blood before the battle.  That would still have quite an effect.  We could stockpile your essence if this is acceptable to you.”

Looking over the pages in my hands, a vision entered my head—of spending my days fucking my way through an endless list of faceless priestesses while donating blood at the limits of whatever amount of regeneration Phaedra determined I was capable of.  A vision of myself lying in bed, hovering at the threshold of unconsciousness, living as if I were a piece of cattle, chafed raw and bled dry.

“No,” I said.  I felt my hands clench into fists on the table, a strange clarity descending on me, a surge of adrenaline that seemed to stop time for a moment as I stared him down, his annoying grin and the cold look in his eyes.  Ignak’s reaction to my refusal, his complete lack of surprise, had filled me with rage.  “You knew I would never agree to this, Ignak.”  I had called him General Shatterbone for long enough.

“I suppose I did,” he said slowly.  “But I cannot help but be disappointed, Dark Lord.  Your lack of commitment to our cause, despite our faith, troubles me.”

I stood from my chair, as did Ignak and the other generals.  I suddenly became aware of Ignak’s axe, still leaning against the table and the suit of gleaming black armor he always wore.

“I do not answer to you.”

“The army does,” he said.  “In one week, I will send the First Legion to help Ophidium in their war against Arachnia, bring the campaign to a swift close, and secure Ophidium’s assistance.  I already sent Minister Zxystar home with that message.  The operation would be much easier if they could bring some of your blood.”

“You didn’t wish to mention this earlier?”  I turned to Krez and Braz, gauging their opinion, but I saw no emotions on either of their faces.  Only cold, placid stares.  “You have the stink of corruption about you, Ignak.”

I turned to leave, not knowing what else to do, only realizing that if I really were Greg-Theryx, I almost certainly would not have let things get this far.

I took only a half-step before I heard the sound of movement and turned to see Ignak with his axe in hand, one of his feet up on the table as if he intended to leap over it.  Again, time had slowed, my body preparing itself for a fight.

And before I knew it, Ignak had raised his axe and was jumping across the table towards me, the blade glinting with the flickering blue light from the sconces at the edge of the dim room.

Without thinking, I grabbed the wooden chair I’d been sitting in and held it in front of me, Shatterbone’s axe chopping into it with a force that made me stumble as wood splintered and hewed, coming apart in my hands.

I let go of the chair and took a few steps back.  Even as I did so, I heard the footsteps of the two guards advancing quickly toward me.  I hadn’t seen where Phaedra had gone—I felt her aura lingering at the edge of the room as if she was trying to hide.

Shatterbone tossed the remains of my former seating aside, his face snarling at me now.  Krez and Braz had both reached under the table and grabbed swords.  They were all in on this.

Which meant I was all alone.

I held my hands out before me and tried to focus.  I barely spoke the incantation out loud, merely whispered the words, feeling them in my chest, my desperation to make it out of here, to be free.

Wait, I thought.  No, not that spell.  My Will changed and shifted as if guided by an experienced teacher.  I realized something had changed in me.  By the bond we shared.

“By my wrath, be purged!” I shouted.  This was a different spell.  One I had never cast before.  One I didn’t even know.

But Mona did, and for a brief moment in time, we had been one being.  Apparently, I had learned something from her after all.

I felt the fire building in my body, the energy flowing into my hands and outward, as a great gout of flame flowed from them, like a dragon’s breath erupting from me.  I quickly turned, casting the flame in front and behind me.  The guards suddenly stopped, the tips of their spears hesitant, wavering in front of them.

“Don’t you know who I am?” I shouted at them.  “You work for me.”  The irony, of course, was not lost on me.

“Prove it,” came Ignak’s reply, who now stood ten feet away.  He had stopped at the edge of the flames.  His axe was held steady in front of him.

“Fine,” I said, focusing on him once again, my hands held forward, another spell already ready on my lips, another one I knew I had never used before, but as I felt it build, I could tell it was a great one, something genuinely massive—

And then all the energy raced out of me in a great rush as my nerves tensed, my muscles spasmed, and a tremor shook the tower.  The floor shook as shards of rock fell from the ceiling.  Something had exploded down below us.

But in my confusion, the spell had never come out of me.  I had felt the energy building, but then it had dissipated and gone elsewhere.  I had cast the spell, but I hadn’t?

“Ah, that must be the High Priestess,” Ignak said, grinning, answering the question I hadn’t asked.  “I wonder if she’s dead yet.”

I felt my heart twist at the thought of our time together being cut short so quickly.  The moment I had dreaded was finally here, and I was entirely unprepared.

And then Shatterbone’s axe fell, and only as the blade swung towards me did I realize how quickly he had moved, without any hesitation.  His words had only been a distraction, a feint, and it had worked on me.

His axe spun in the air as I tried to raise my hands in defense, trying to form another spell in my mind, even as I knew I couldn’t possibly cast one fast enough.

The blade flew past my hands, carving into my shoulder instead, as pain flooded my body.  Then Shatterbone was upon me, not even bothering to take another swing with his axe, merely ramming his knee into my chest.  The wind escaped me with a roar as I fell backward.

Lying on the stone floor, gasping, Ignak lowered himself, grabbed my neck with one hand, and punched me in the face with the other.  My vision exploded with light.  My arms strained against him, trying to throw him off me.  But even if I did, I could feel the guards standing close behind me and Krez and Braz to either side of Shatterbone.  It was five-on-one, and I couldn’t have even beaten him in a fair fight.

“Ah,” Ignak said, and there was a hint of sadness in his voice, a great disappointment.  “So, in the end, this was all there was to you.”  He shook his head.  “What happened to you, little godling?  How did you manage to fall so far?”

His hand squeezed around my throat, my windpipe crushed by his hand, as my hands formed into fists, smashing uselessly against his arms and face as I struggled to free myself.  Dark spots floated across my eyes as my lungs burned.

And then I felt her rising from the tower's lower levels, burning brightly, an orange flame.  Mona was coming.

But in my fear, I hoped she would turn back.  I wished there was some way she might save herself because there was no saving me.  Not from this.  If she came up here, she was doomed.

Mona had been right from the start.

I really was a fool.