Chapter 4: A proper beginning

The battle of the End Of The Line was a pyrrhic victory, but it was still a victory. In a certain encampment once filled with dozens knights now razed to the ground. Madam Mandrake walked past the corpse filled yard, what a joke.

The 23rd Chapter just returned from a long war with conqueror from the frozen North. Their supplies cut out, the army returned a shell of its former glory. With most of its general and experience soldiers fallen in battle, the 23rd Chapter was now mostly composed of new recruits. Many of them did not even know how to wield a sword properly. And here they were, all these young souls sent to the grinder.

The Knight Order, in an effort to keep up their appearance as a massive force to be reckoned with, had skipped all normal recruitment and training to send the 23rd on this mission. It would only be some raiders, what could go wrong?

Everything, the answer was everything.

"Mother… we… have em."

A broken voice called out to Madam Mandrake. It belonged to her son, standing there with his bloated muscles and malformed head. The sight of him disgusted her, they all did.

"Good, line them up for me." The order was given but the raider still stood there, unmoving, waiting for something. "What do you want?"

"Me… do good. Pra…ise me!" The misshapen mass of a man said.

Even after decades, his look still insulted her eyes. This… these 'things', these vile abominations, these living failures, their existence plague her life. But it was not their horrendous shapes or violent nature that haunted Madam Mandrake's nightmare. No, the fact that some of them were her spawns did.

The Madam said begrudgingly. "You did well, no go line them up for me."

The abomination, unable to understand the tone of her voice, formed a broken smile on his face. "Mother… pra…ise me." He stormed away to perform his parent's bidding. Those words of 'praise' would last for days.

Madam Mandrake breathed in deeply the arid summer air. She could then sense a stench not of the abominations. "So you are here." The Madam said.

"Of course, I am always watching."

The voice, deep as the abyss, rang out. It came from a man with no place of origin. His clothing was of the West but it was adorned by white articles attached without rhythm or reason. His left leg was missing from the knee down, in place of it a metal prosthetic. A piece of white gentle cloth draped over his head, covering the ghost like man's face. Pulling out a knife, he plunged down on a knight lying on the ground.

A gurgling sounded could be dead as the dead pretender met the abyss.

"You missed one." The ghost said.

"No, I am just waiting to see what that one would do." Madam Mandrake replied. She could smell life even within that tin can, hear the heart beating slowly beneath the many layers of steel and cloths and flesh.

Pulling out the bloodstained blade, the ghost carefully clean the steel with dead knight's shirt. His movement slow and deliberate, which could be passed off as sluggish at first glance.

"So unfortunate, all these lives, so young, with all the years in front of them." The ghost said impassionedly, devoid of truth.

"I didn't figure you to be the kind that regret." Madam Mandrake quipped.

"If a kill does not illicit an emotion, then why do it at all." The ghost replied, his tone constant and ambiguous. "Every life has its weight, some are embers, capable of sparkling into brilliant flame. Sometimes all they need is a little push. It would be a shame to snuff them out, to deny oneself of the brilliance spectacle of fire."

He said such a thing while ending a life so casually. Killing and lying were like breathing to the ghost. Madam Mandrake could never tell if he was telling the truth or not. That made him a dangerous ally but still a valuable one to have. After all, the ghost held the secret to harness the deities' power. Just a little taste of it but that was enough to wipe out the 23rd.

Turning away, Madam Mandrake started to make her way to the prisoners. She could hear the chattering sound of metal prosthetic parts grinding against one another right behind.

The young knights who survived were lined up by malformed abominations whose could fade into nothingness. Some were afraid, some were no longer there and some remained hopeful and defiant.

"Mother… the…re they… are."

The survivors were surprised a human among the beast. There was the Madam, whom they could talk to, who they could reason with.

"Please, let us go." One of them called out.

"I do not want to die." Another said.

"I have a family, please, miss, find it in your heart!" A voice pleaded desperately.

But not all were that optimistic. Among the hopeful were those consumed by anger. They could fling their insults but it was something beyond the abominations comprehension. But this person, she probably could.

"Die, burn in hell!" One yelled from the top of his lungs.

"Atlas will smite you all." A voice so calm spoke with certainty.

All the noise merged together into something bloated and ugly. Madam Mandrake found herself no longer able to follow what they all said, a sad deterioration. Discarding that moment of self-pity, the Madam ordered their helmets all removed.

The abomination, still high on the praise, stepped up eargerly. However, with such bloated fingers, he was unable to undo the straps. Frustrated, the abomination grabbed the knight head and started to pull. A female voice screamed out in pain as her skin and flesh were starting to tear. Before the Madam could stop him, the knight's head was ripped out with monstrous strength. The abomination then removed the helmet, underneath a pretty young face devoid of life locked into an expression of absolute terror.

Sighing, Madam Mandrake decided to let the prisoners removing their own helmets.

In front of her was now young faces, none even close to thirty, many still in their teen. Her eyes went over them, until they stopped on a young man with fire in her eyes. Normally such thing like resolve did not bother Madam Mandrake. But the talk with the ghost had left a sour taste in her mouth, she disliked everything about that man. If only they did not converse about 'flame', then this young knight could have lived to see another day.

"This one, 'prepare' him." The Madam gave her order.

An abomination nodded and grabbed the young knight. He struggled to no avail. "Atlas damned you all!" The young man yelled out, spewing words of judgement as the metal armors were ripped out along with the clothing underneath. Held down by an abomination, another came by with a knife and with great care, started to carve onto his body. The young knight screech out in pain as the others watched with horror.

"So, any ember here catches your eyes." Madam Mandrake said.

"It does not matter, they are yours." The ghost replied, still ambiguously neutral. "The question is that does any of them catches your eyes."

That was why the Madam despised this man. Even with the cloth covering his face, she could still feel his gaze everywhere, piercing her deep inside. Even though they were longer there, nothing could escape the ghost's 'eyes'.

Ignoring the blood curdling screaming in the background, Madam Mandrake continued the conversation. "It is still thanks to you that we have this victory." She admitted.

Her rare compliment was met with silence, followed up by a deep giggle. "Victory? I am afraid that you have not won yet."

"Your 'companion', you promise he would not stop me." The Madam furrowed her eyebrows and spoke with a grunt.

"He could try but won't succeed. No, he is not the person you should be worried about." The ghost answered mysteriously.

"Just out with it already."

Meanwhile, the tortured knight's consciousness had finally left him. He was now in a blissful sleep away from horror. The raided encampment was suddenly filled with uncomfortable silence as Madam Mandrake faced with the ghost.

"We… came here all those years ago to hunt for someone." The man continued. "And uncharacteristically, he remained rooted here for more than a decade now. That man would be your first worry."

Suddenly, the Madam and her abominations could feel a chill running down their spine. It was the connection granted by the deity, one that tied them all together. One of them, part of the group assaulting the small local town had deceased.

It was not a surprise, that was where the strongest warriors to be stationed. Even with their supernatural power, casualties were certain. That group would surely be mostly wiped out by the end. Their purpose was not to conquer but to inflict enough damage to the 23rd chapter. So, more chills would be coming and she would be ready for them.

What the Madam was not prepared for, however, were the deaths to come rapidly one after another. Three of the abominable raiders fell in succession.

"From the look on your face, I could tell." The ghost said, for once a sense of amusement could be extracted from his voice. "It's the Doctor's handiwork."

"Hm, when we return, you will tell me all about this man." Madam Mandrake ordered.

"Heh, heh, heh, that is still not the end." The ghost continued. "Normal human may be so fragile, but if pushed too hard… well, some will burn brightly."

And with that, he laughed and laughed out loud. Soon, another chill ran down Madam Mandrake's spine. Another group whose purpose to wipe out an encampment had failed. They were killed to the very last one. But how? From her information, that place had the least amounts of veterans.

The uncomfortable silence even enveloped the abominations. They could feel their siblings dying one by one.

"Tch." Madam Mandrake clicked her tongue in frustration. She did not care for any of them but they were still valuable asset. It was time to be more caution

She still had these prisoners to negotiate if it came to that. But there was something to be done with them. Looking through them again, the Madam stopped at the youngest of them all, a naïve boy shaking in fear. She pointed at him. "You know what to do."

The young knight feared the worst but nothing happen. That would only mean there were horrors in store for him. The boy, still not yet a young man, could feel himself dying from inside with the dread.

The group retreated back to their base, with the carved knight strung up as a message.

With the ghost seemingly disappearing in the crow, they returned to a series of underground caves. With the prisoners properly bound and gagged, Madam Mandrake retreated to her quarter to rest for the day.

Unlike the dingy and damp cavern interiors, the Madam room was spacious and lit. Her bed was comfortable with smooth linen draped over. On her bedside table a bowl of snacks, jerkies made out of knight's flesh. Taking a bite, the Madam waited patiently, dimming the light to ease her tired eyes.

Soon, the young knight, the boy was led in. He shook in fear, especially now with no armor to protect him. Madam Mandrake motioned him to come closer.

"What's your name?" She asked, biting on a piece of human jerky.

"I… am Ethan… Riverwood." He stuttered. "Please, miss, please."

Madam Mandrake ignored his plea. "Tell me, Ethan, do you have a family?"

"Yes, I have a mom and dad."

"Any wife or girlfriend waiting for you back home."

"No, miss."

The boy was confused, he did not understand what with all the questions. The Madam drank some cool water, her careful demeanor hid something burning within.

"Have you ever been with anyone then?" She asked.

"Eh… no, I did fancy this girl next door but no… I never had anyone. "Ethan answered truthfully, hoping to be spared.

"I see, so you are still a boy." Madam Mandrake said, biting her lip, she motioned him to come closer. "I guess that's fine."

"What is it that you need, miss?"

The Madam seemed to think about the question. But soon, she dismissed all pretense of sophistication. For two decades she was trapped here, surrounded by monsters. Now the Madam was free finally met what she considered fellows human. It was her time to reign, to rise from the dark and showed this world that had let her fallen to the dark. She would become a monster of vengeance.

But before that, Madam Mandrake would indulge herself in her human desire. Grabbing the boy, she dragged him down and shut his lips with her own.