Shadows covered the floor, as Broken found himself in the interrogation room, again. The four guards stood where they had stood, and the interrogator sat where she had sat. From the day before, Broken’s condition was unchanged. He, in the room, was again chained to the chair.

“Yesterday’s work was ineffective,” said the interrogator. She brushed her red hair forward, and over her right shoulder. “I congratulate you for your effort, for you achievement, and for your skill.”

Again, Broken found himself wondering what kind of interrogator this girl was. Interrogators weren’t supposed to build up their target’s pride and self confidence.

“My name is Alsi,” said the girl. “Alsi as Sarani. I thought you should know my name, as we’re going to be seeing so much of each other.” She paused. “I know what you’re thinking. I know you think my telling you this is odd. But it is not. I do not want to torture information out of you, I simply want it. Please tell me your real name.”

Broken wondered what angle the girl was going for, as he stayed silent.

After a moment, Alsi spoke again. “You don’t have to talk, not yet,” she said. “Just listen, because I know you already are. I want to tell you about me, how I became this fallen shard. I want you to understand where I came from.”

And, thusly, she outlined a story of a family where no one understood her, a father who didn’t know what to do with her, and so, forced her to take the job she had now. It was spoken with such sincerity that Broken knew it was real. He knew that she was telling the truth; just as well as he knew she was telling him the truth as a means to an end.

Unequivocally, Broken knew she did not have his best interests at heart. He wondered how she even could attempt to play nice, after ordering him burnt with lightning the day before.

He wanted to say as much, but refrained. He was not going to speak. He doubted he would ever speak again.

When she was done, Alsi brushed away an honest tear. “I never told that story to any before,” she said. “But now I tell it to you. You have to believe me when I say, I’m sorry for what I ordered yesterday.”

She looked at him with deep, sympathetic eyes, that looked as if they had seen great pain.

Broken stared back, but said nothing.

“There is nothing more I can say, then, if you will not talk to me. You must go back to your cell now. Just tell me your name, though, and you can stay longer.”

A moment later, Alsi ordered Broken to be taken back to his cell.

***

As Alsi headed out of the interrogation room, thinking on how she could possibly build on what she had just said, during her next session with Broken, she bumped into someone in the hallway.

Captain Ezea Radi.

“Why did you say what you said?” he asked her.

“Who told you what went on in the interrogation room?”

“The guards, silly girl. Instead of cracking the man like an egg, you thought it would be best to tell your life story.” Ezea loomed so big there was no way Alsi could get around him, to safety. “Did you suddenly lose your mind?”

“It is an unconventional tactic, I admit,” said Alsi.

“Unconventional?” repeated the captain. He gave Alsi a meaty shove, and she fell backwards to the hallway floor. She offered no resistance. If she did, she knew she would make things worse. Ezea did not tolerate any sort of dissent.

As Alsi wondered what was going to happen next, a voice called out from behind the captain. “She did what she did, because I told her to.”

It was Eton.

As Ezea whirled around to face the demon, Alsi slowly picked herself up to her feet.

“What are you doing here, demon?” asked the captain.

“Listening,” said Eton. “Overhearing things.”

The captain’s hulk filled the small hallway, but, indignant, Alsi called over his shoulder, to Eton on the other side, “Why didn’t you speak up earlier?”

The blurred form of Eton rushed around Ezea, to between the captain and Alsi. Once placed, he stopped his fell magic. The captain turned around.

“Why?” asked the thing that looked like a little man. “Because I wanted to see him hit you, my dear.”

As Alsi stood there, what remained of her self-image greatly appalled, Eton turned to Ezea.

“And now that I have seen what I found amusing,” said the demon, “I will tell you, Ezea Radi, to let her do what I wish, with regard to Broken.”

“Are you threatening me?” asked the muscular, tall captain. “I will remind you, I run this ship.”

“That would not prevent me from killing you where you stand.” Eton fingered something in a pocket.

“I will…”

“I work for your superiors,” said Eton. “You cannot harm me.”

Eton turned around, back to Alsi. “I bid you proceed, dear. Fail, and you don’t need to worry about the captain. I will kill you.”

Eton took a breath. “Now, I fear I have better things to do than continue on with the antic-fest. We all have far better things to do than preen and strut.” He looked carefully at Alsi. “Or, in your case, lick the boots of others. I will tell you this much, though. Your method is working.” Eton laughed, a high-pitched chirp.

He glanced at both Ezea, and Alsi, and then blurred. Without moving his legs, his form raced down the hall, around a corner, and out of sight.

The captain looked at Alsi, and said nothing. He grunted, turned, and headed away in the opposite direction of Eton, down the hall.

Alsi was alone, and relieved. The nightmare never ended, but there were respites. Had Eton not come along, Alsi was sure the captain would have done far worse to her. There were many things he had warned her might happen, did she cross him.

Alsi stood in the hallway, shivered, and then wondered if her actions in the interrogation room had made a dent in Broken’s psyche, or if they had been for naught. She wondered what Broken was thinking, right then.

***

What a fool I am.

Despite his placement in the prison carrack, despite his mistreatment, despite the Makini attempting to mess with head, Broken knew who, on the ship, hated him the most.

He did.

I lost Mai. I lost Ishad. I lost Claw-Back. I thought that this time around, things would be different. I thought I would be able to save the land, save the princess. I thought doing as much would be child’s play.

I have never been so wrong in my life.

I can’t succeed, anymore. I can’t calculate all the variables. I let Ishad die right in front of me, let the Wrath drain upon him, and I was too shocked to stop it.

I was shocked that I failed to kill Eton. Another failure. Another failure added to the long list.

I had a good run. For a time, Mai thought that she was safe, that I was competent. But the end is all that matters.

And in the end, I failed.

I failed again.

Broken thought of how he had attempted to kill Eton, thought about how his attempt had failed.

He wracked his mind in an attempt to know why. And then, finally, he had the answer.

Moonsinger Fen.

Moonsinger Fen lied to me.

Why would he do that?

This was a much more simple question than the last.

Because the Nari deceived me.

I thought we had reached an understanding. I was wrong. The Nari knew I was suspicious of them, after Claw-Back had noticed one, after the possessed Ishad had come into being with yellow eyes. Everything made sense, but I believed the opposite, because I wanted to trust the Nari. I wanted to believe that not everything I once knew was lost.

When I used the witch’s crystal to call upon Moonsinger Fen, the Nari got to him before I could. When I seeked confirmation that the lie I believed was the truth, he led me wrong.

***

“I said what you wanted. Leave me alone. Leave me alone, you ignorant snake!”

“Ignorant?” repeated the Nari, as it looked upon Moonsinger Fen, within the crowded living room of his house.

“Yes, ignorant,” said Fen. “We made a deal. You said you would spare me the fate of Ormin, if I went along with your little plot!”

“And so, accordingly, I will not fell you with my blades,” said the Nari.

Fen’s mouth worked, as the old man struggled to search for a way out, a way to avoid the fate of his colleague. “Semantics!” he accused. “You twisted the truth. That, that isn’t fair!”

“You know our ways, sage,” said the Nari, as it loomed over Fen, in its great, black robe. “You know how we only tell the truth, but can yet be deceptive. And you know we could never let you live, as you know who the Chosen is, before it has been seen fit to reveal his presence to the world. You were deluding yourself.”

“I had to know,” said Moonsinger Fen. “Broken came here, and then I started wondering things. It was not hard to put together the puzzle, and I wanted the final piece.”

“You are no innocent for me to warn, Sage,” said the Nari. “You dared augur with the spirits of the dead, the spirits of hell. Did you not think we would find you?”

Moonsinger Fen stared up at the Nari, as he stood there. “I will not let you do this,” he said. “I am a sage. I have magic. Perhaps Ormin was too afraid to use his powers, but, I am not.”

As he spoke, Fen grew taller, as he channeled energy. The room, previously blurred for Fen’s poor eyesight, slid into focus.

“You cannot defeat me,” said the Nari. “You cannot defeat the Third Guide. You cannot defeat Slytherayaim.”

“Why?” asked Fen the sage, boldly.

“Because the will of the Nari is as inevitable as clockwork. We have maintained the Order of the First One for as long as the Empire itself. You cannot stand in our way. Not now, and not ever.”

The Nari continued, as if there was a greater point it was trying to make, once that far surpassed Moonsinger Fen’s existence.

“We are the Keepers. The Fallen One’s escape was an anomaly, something that was not planned for. But the Keepers have adapted. Even now, one of our agents is taking care of him. His use has expired, and so he cannot be allowed to interfere with out plan.”

It was at that moment that the Nari seemed to remember where it was again, that it had a job to do.

“Nor can you interfere with our plan, sage.”

The Nari thrust out a great, clawed hand, and all of Fen’s magic melted away from him, even as he fought to sustain it. The Nari’s magic was great, greater than Fen’s own. It was so strong.

Fen felt his magic drain from him, escape from a losing battle. He willed it to remain, but it would not, as the Nari’s hand began to close around his throat.

Fen choked. Fen gagged. Fen lamented his very existence.

But in the end, Fen died.

***

Broken knew there was a significant hole in his thought process. If what Claw-Back had sensed had been a Nari, then where did Eton come from?

But it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter because Broken had made a decision. A decision that nothing mattered anymore. And so, what was the point living?

Life only brought him hurt. Life only brought him pain.

Broken knew why he had been unwilling to kill himself before, why he had endured his days in the carrack without ending his own life.

Because he had thought, in his pride, that there was a chance he might one day be useful again. But now he knew he was just kidding himself.

Claw-Back was dead. Ishad was dead. Mai was dead. A failure could hardly be more supreme than that.

Broken knew he had to accept that he had failed. He had to accept that his time was years past. He had to accept that he was nothing.

His pride was worthless. Everyone close to him always died, inevitably died. He had once almost held an empire in the palm of his hand, and now he could not even keep alive the three that to him, had mattered most.

Broken was going to kill himself.

He had decided as much, and he doubted anything could change his mind. He was going to pass into the great abyss, and if he was lucky, end up in Elysium. If he was lucky, he would see those he loved once more.

But he knew he would not be lucky, for he never had been. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that Elysium did not exist. The world was too cruel for God to be real.

And so, rather than seeking heaven, Broken just wanted blackness. He just wanted an end to his ancient story, and nothing more.

His life had been long, far too long for him to care about not having lived to the fullest.

How was Broken going to kill himself?

By the very method of his pride. For in truth, when Broken had surrendered, out of the fallen hope that all might be made right again, he had concealed an object that could have helped make an escape possible.

He did not intend to use the object to help him escape, now. He intended to use it to end all.

Even though Broken’s arms were chained above his head, he was within moments of ending it.

Broken rolled his tongue, rolled it just so, carefully just so, and twisted his teeth, as he hung limply in the chains, in the cell.

He honored himself, by proclaiming a count. A count, down to the end of his sad, fallen life.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

It occurred to Broken that it had never before taken him so long to do something, once he had decided to do it.

In his dying moments, it seemed, he was short on strength, short on strength he had never before felt a lack of.

But what did that matter? In any case, he and his life were pathetic. It would all be over in but another brief moment, and then he would never have to worry about anything, ever again.

Before he could do anything, though, the bars to his cell began to slide into the floor.

They must be intending to again take me to the interrogator, Broken surmised.

He could have ended himself right then, even as the guards grasped him, to remove him from the cell.

But, for a reason he didn’t quite understand himself, he decided to wait. The visit to Alsi would be one last stimulus.

One last experience, and then he would allow death to come.