I journey through a valley of thick vibrant blue, green and violet fumes. Every step is calming yet tense. I’m waiting to fall down the portal of purple eyes once again but… I seem to be free from the clutches of whatever that being is, for now. Langnet’s road… the curse… I have to go back but every fiber of my being is against it. The thought makes me feel sick, even within my dreams. I spin around; the fumes swirl around me. Normally I would be investigating the fumes, trying to decipher what they will be todya, and what I can use to trap my victims. I am on the other side of the world now, so this information is completely useless. That word, victim – I used to revel in its power, but now it just causes pain whenever I say or think it. It feels worse then ‘dull’, or ‘moist’, or any other word or sound that makes me want to scratch my ears out. It reminds me of who I was, and who I am – ultimately changed, and I don’t know if it’s for the better or worse. I hate not being in control. Was I fated to be broken like this? I can feel each beat of my quickened heart pounding throughout my body. I can reforge a broken blade, but what about my broken soul? For now, I need rest. Rest that I was not given for the week in Langnet’s road. What happens when I wake up though? I am in a cage and everyone knows who me. I… I should be happy – no, I should be thrilled! Consumed by the ecstasy that my name is known far and wide – excited to torment people without needing to lift a finger but… but… it all feels wrong. Fuck. So, what should I do, Fa? I will be getting my supplies and I have a week for my wounds to heal. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave the cell I am in, but there should be guards around me 24/7. I stop moving and the fumes quickly consume my body. Soon, I am overwhelmed by a cacophony of colour and silhouettes dancing around my body. I take a deep breath and wake up.

My body is a ball of pins and needles. My head hurts. My legs are unresponsive. My clothes are caked with Mosline’s blood. I am lying down on a hard white bed in the middle of a large cage in the middle of a sizeable room. There are two guards watching me. They both have formal attire: suits, swords and spears. No… the more I look at it, their clothing is sharp but more akin to leathers thick enough to stop a blade in its tracks. My throat feels like dry smoked wood and my stomach must be eating itself at this point. Looking around, there is a jug of water and a plate of bread and eggs with a small bowl of fruit salad. Hardly filling but better than nothing. Sitting up, I grab the jug and down it is one, long gulp. Damn that feels good – the pleasure of cold water running along a dry throat is just enthralling! The guards watch me like hawks, maybe I can chat a little with them?

“H… h… hello there.” my throat is beyond fucked up. Two words and they come out as a whisper. The guards look at each other, obviously unable to hear me. They walk up to me in practiced unison.

“Did you say something?” The one talking is a big stocky lad with his chest held high. He is damn muscular from what must be years of training and he’s got a few scars as well. One green and one blue eye too – that’s pretty cool!

“I… I like your eyes. They are cool.” I barely get out these words in a painful whisper.

The guards immediately draw their spears, ready to strike. I put my chained hands up.

“Sorry… Sorry. Not doing… anything. Just a… comment.”

The guards remain ready to strike. The one next to the lad is a lady with a shaved head that has a tattoo of a cliff covering it. Again, muscular, and quite intimidating. She has darker olive skin and has seen a lot of sunlight. She puts a hand on the lad's shoulder and takes a step back, relaxing her stance. The lad follows suit.

“What do you want, Fa? We know you love tormenting people. We know all about you. Say something we don’t like and there will be no more food and water until you are walking Langnet’s road.”

Her voice is deep, smokey and commanding. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I would love to hear that voice scream – no! No, I just want to talk – NO! I MUST make her scream. It would be a simple, easy task! NO! I can’t create another victim – why? Why not? I have done this so much before, it is only natural… but its not natural anymore. A migraine quickly and brutally fills my senses. My head feels like it’s beginning to split in two. I sway from side to side, unable to keep myself upright. I quickly put the plate of food next to me and wrench forward, vomiting. Sickly green and yellow bile launch from my lips and coats the stone floor. The guards look at each other and then back at the vomit. My headache begins to subside to a manageable dull pulse.

“Well, you are just going to live with that now. We are under strict orders to not open this cage and we have no intention of going against orders.”

I wipe my mouth with a brow-coarse napkin that’s under the plate of bread and eggs. Smells pretty bad but nothing awful. I walk over to the mess and begin to clean it up. The guards watch me keenly.

The lad blurts out “What happened there?”

“Nothing, just a bad headache.” I manage to get out with a raspy, quiet voice. Fuck this has completely burnt my throat again.

“Have some food when you are done cleaning. It’ll give you some strength back.” There is a strange kindness to the lady’s voice.

That is a good suggestion. It takes a few more minutes but eventually the vomit is all nice and absorbed. I throw the rag in a bucket that is going to be my latrine here it would seem. I move on to the food and scoff it down – oh warm food! I shudder – oh, this just fills my body and soul with sheer pleasure… where did the food go? I swear I just started eating!

“Names?” Huh, not too raspy and loud enough. One word is doable right now.

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“We will absolutely not give you our names, Fa Fumerunner.”

The response was swift and hurt a little, like a quick and sharp slap.

“Do… you… hate… me?” Alright, it might take tenfold the time here, but I can get some sentences together. The guards look at each other and laugh. It is long, loud, and luminous. I finish the fruit salad in the time it takes for the guards to collect themselves.

“Yes.” They reply in near unison.

“Why?”

Silence.

Obviously taken aback, the lad takes a half step forward and scratches his head “Odd question… you have killed a lot of people. Hundreds of people, and tormented hundreds more. You have committed every crime imaginable, and outside of the one good deed – showing people where bodies of missed victims were – you have no redeemable qualities.”

“Agreed – and you are a vile, disgusting murderer.” The lady chuckles.

Well… that is… what I expected. It doesn’t make it any easier to hear – why? Why can I not hear it? Why does it hurt me to hear that people hate me? I should love this! I should – fuck, there’s the headache again. Deep breaths, Fa. The headache subsides. Can’t vomit up this food just after enjoying it so much.

“Could… I… ever… be… redeemed?” what am I asking? I should be asking what my murderer name is. I should be asking them to scream for my pleasure! I should be asking them if I killed someone they know so I can repeat exactly what happened in gruesome detail! Not this – this dull, shitty, stupid – fucking idiocy! Think before you next speak, Fa!

“…why would you care about that? Everyone knows that you just wish to commit evil acts. What, do you want to redeem the fact that you haven’t killed someone for a week? You did slaughter your horse, did you not? Was that not enough for you!?” fury bites through that last sentence. The lad pants.

I shake my head. “No… I – I…” I did kill Mosline. I ended her life but that was a mercy killing! That was to stop the pain! I swear! I’m not a murderer anymore! “I… want… to… change. To… to be… good.”

The guards’ confusion is palpable.

“You. Fa Fumerunner, the generational tormentor, wants to be good? What the fuck happened to you in Langnet’s road for you to even think that’s on the table?”

“I… am… cursed. No… longer… evil… now.”

“Yeah, sure. So, what you are saying is that you do not have a shred of evil in your bones from some curse?”

I nod my head.

“Well, then you definitely can never be redeemed. You need to decide to be good. You need to make that choice, not some fucking curse. You dare talk about redemption! Would you be asking the same questions if you weren’t cursed?!” The lad can’t hold himself back. There is a ticking time bomb ready to explode – and oh, it would be so deliciously easy to make him explode. Just a few choice words are needed now…

I shake my head wordlessly.

What are you doing, Fa? Are you a fuckwit? This guard is at his wit's end. He is ready to be torn asunder and built as a monument of our evil game. Damn headache is coming back…

“So you admit that you would not have even the slightest desire to be good if not for this curse? Even if we were to believe you – which we don’t – fundamentally, you are wrong. Your actions have shown that you give no fucks about anyone but yourself and this just highlights that. You selfish coward – why do YOU deserve anything?! Why do YOU think YOU can be good?! You have done nothing in your life that could be even MISTAKEN AS GOOD!” The lady puts a hand on the lad’s shoulder and shakes her head. He is seething. His face is red. He talks long, deep, controlled breaths and slowly returns to his previous professional façade.

The lady slowly walks around the cage. “Apologies, that was not very professional of us. The long and short of it is that you are currently doing all you can. All you need to do is deliver goods through Langnet’s road. If you truly want to be good, pay off your collar, and then we can talk. Oh, that does remind me. We were meant to give you your payment after all the reductions.”

The lady takes out a small pouch of Dregs and throws it into the cage. It slides to my feet. Picking it up, it weighs basically nothing. 300 Dregs, they said. This is NOT 300 Dregs – it's only 10! The fuck?!

“Costs reduced for…” she takes a list out “Replacement of horse. Replacement of clothes. Cleaning of cart. Food and water supplies. Medical care for your legs and chest injuries.” She takes a long breath “…and you – or someone other person on the road – did kick one of the boxes. The damage to the box is one thing, and the goods which were slightly damaged inside is another cost. All of this together is 290 Dregs worth of damages. Now, I would recommend taking that with you so you can pay people at your next stop.”

I’ll fucking kill her and everyone here for this bullshit – “Thank… you.” What?! ‘Thank you’?! There is no way a self-respecting serial killer would ever say or think this – but I don’t respect myself. I hate myself for each crime I have done. Each person I made cry and suffer is a stain on my soul. How can I be anything but quiet and follow the commands of good people now? How can I strive to do anything but good to balance out all my evil actions? Who am I?

The lad and lady are once again taken aback. They just stare at me and whisper to each other. They take a few steps back and nod in agreement about something. I don’t know who I am or what is going on anymore – the damn curse is taking all the fun from this away. If it was a torturous pain, I could handle that. Constant attacks I could handle. Losing a sense or something I could handle. Everything would be fine… but now all I want is to help. To help! Me! Fuck.

The guards take a few steps back to their original positions and eye me cautiously with crossed arms. I am so dizzy – the damn headache is back and stronger than ever. I lie down on the bed and close my eye – each cruel and evil moment flashes before my eyes. Every sound, plead and beg is heard with crystal clarity, along with my foul responses. I feel nothing but sick once again. My mind is full of oxymoronic thoughts – glee and sheer disgust of what I have done. I am completely trapped in my mind and there is no salvation to be seen. I am a killer, an awful killer. I can do nothing but continue my travels – but thinking about Langnet’s tunnel sends shivers down my spine.

The next few days were all the same. I sit in silence and consider how I can help my position for most of the day. When the guards change, I try and talk with them again and again to the same result. My headache comes back in terrible waves of nausea whenever someone mentions my evil actions. I am a completely lost soul, devoid of purpose, and with each conversation, I just fall deeper into that hole. At least my throat and body recover quickly and it does not take long before I am able to speak normally.

Time moves strangely here – it feels endless but suddenly, I am being guided out of my cage under knifepoint. I am led back to the door to Langnet’s road and with a beautiful, old chestnut horse and a clean cart full of new crates to deliver, I am left by myself to start the journey once again.

I push the door open with a grunt. It loudly creaks in response. I guide the horse inside. The moment there is a little distance between the door and me, it slams shut.

A pulsating purple void fills the road once more.

“Welcome back! I missed you, Fa Fumerunner.”