The interrogator started moving more hastily, extracting vials of liquids out from her endless robe and tokens of some sort from her necklace which was hidden by armour that she wore. The tinkling of the vials echoed throughout the room, filling it with some sort of sick tension.

"Sit down," Interrogator Callis instructed me, and I peacefully followed her orders. Her pale, bleached eyes stayed stationary at my forehead, her stiff face holding some sort of trepidation.

Her rapid movements and preparations allowed me to glimpse some more of her imposing features. Her sturdy obsidian armour covered all of her bronze skin, save her hands and face. The brass trimming accentuated the razor-sharp angles of the armour, parallel to the pointed gaze of the interrogator. A long scabbard ran down her back, visible through the stormy waves of the orangish robe.

A small necklace drew my attention, hiding secretly below the chinks of the rough armour, its noticeably smooth metal surface gleaming in the lamplight. The intricate design featured a pure-blood ruby encased in a golden sun, conveying a sense of holiness and purity. The longer I stared, the more I noticed the complexity and the elaborate nature of the etching on the amulet, captivating me. The hierogram started to shake imperceptibly. I looked away. Hopefully, the interrogator hadn’t noticed the abnormality. I back up at her.

She hadn’t.

The interrogator was done setting up, discernable by the lines of flasks that lay on the table. They were all filled with various liquids of assorted colours, some blue, some pearly grey, while others seemed to shift between hues underneath the lighting.

From within one of the pockets of her armour, the interrogator procured a small dagger. The rope blanketing the handle hinted at its extended use and small amounts of sand were hidden beneath the layers of cloth. Callis looked at me, the area right above my eyes, and held the dagger toward me.

Personally, I counted myself as a newborn. I had no memories. I am brand new! I had been factory reset by some being, so killing me would count as murdering a baby, a horrible sin worthy of capital punishment! Someone, please tell Miss Interrogator Callis that before she sticks the knife deep within my ribcage!

I shuddered at the scene my imagination fabricated, because it truly did look like the interrogator was preparing to gut me like a fish. Luckily, my nightmare never came true.

Callis picked up a clear solution from the side table, after hovering over some other vials, and held it to me.

“Hold the flask,” she asserted.

Not a fan of long sentences, huh?

Now, before you shout at me, remember I said I wouldn’t be rude to the nurse. I never specified anyone else.

I took the flask from the interrogator’s iron grip, the liquid sloshing as it moved. The viscous fluid slightly bubbled in protest, as if moving the vial caused discomfort to it. The substance was highly volatile and was most certainly poisonous. Well, it looked like it was poisonous anyway. I definitely wouldn’t drink something like this, even if someone else demanded me to.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Drink it.”

“Okay.”

…

I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be turned into a pancake by Madame Giant And Scary over here. My survival instincts kicked in, my response reverberating in the room before my brain caught up with what I said.

I eyed the vial.

Ugh. It didn’t look appetising in the slightest.

I glanced at the nurse standing near the door, hoping she would save me from this cruel fate. No, she just looked at me with concern and pity, and at the flask with disgust. So it wasn’t just me who thought the vile liquid appeared disgusting.

I brought the glass vial up to my lips, the aroma wafting up from the liquid filling me with a sense of dread. I leaned back and downed the entire flask in one go, trying my utmost to keep my nausea under control.

I scowled at the interrogator, accusations heavily lacing my gaze. Callis just looked away, avoiding eye contact.

Curse these nasty eyes, I can’t even express my resentment properly. I should probably buy some sunglasses. Or rip my eyes out—either works.

Would sunnglassess look cooler, or wouldd an eyeebpatch but on booth of themm, the ‘i’es. That woulf just bee a bandananana haha. Funny word makes me a bit lauhgy. Wat the helll? Whhaaat in the absolute worrld is hppening to me?

What was in that disgusting potion?!

My eyelids feeel a bitt drooppy…

***

The drugs had kicked in. The patient was lying on the bed, knocked out by the concoction I had given him. The potion should have him deep in his dream. The effectiveness was marketed as great and the source was reliable.

Of course, why would a black market assassin have anything to lie about?

I think I heard someone talking. This anomaly in the form of a sickly patient is a sign of ill omens.

He was lying down on the bed, mouth frothing. Disgusting. Something was off with him. Looking into his eyes was agonising. It felt as though I was talking with the Pope, though it didn’t feel as holy.

The sun talisman I was wearing had started shaking, almost unnoticeably, whenever the patient looked at it. I couldn’t make any hasty decisions. My fingers were itching to reveal my blade, but dealing with supernatural beings or objects was never as easy as slicing them apart. Unlike the Kinrimal. Most of them, anyway.

I shook out the lingering thoughts, regaining my focus. The patient. He was still there. Eye contact caused fear and apprehension, meaning that the source of the uncanny feelings was most likely the eyes. But, to make sure, I had come up with a way to ensure the origin and danger of this oddity.

What does he look like?

The voice was back. Probably side effects from interacting with the corrupt for too long. Time to get this over with. I took the trusted dagger and promptly cut my palm, a trickle of blood falling from the wound before it healed. I cupped my hands and started praying.

"In the radiance of Hyperion's might, I spill my blood, a sacrifice to the sun's eternal light."

The lamps started flickering, glowing brighter and humming louder as I chanted the holy gospel of The Church Of Day, the blood in my hands abruptly transforming into an ethereal mist. It was as if the vapour was there but not at the same time. I decided not to dwell on these paradoxical thoughts too much. They were not a part of my job.

The patient seemed to get a bit restless, probably from the increasing light. Strange. The drugs shouldn’t allow him it to be affected by external influences while under the effect of the sedative. Better get this entire process done quickly.

The prayer to Hyperion was not mandatory, but it was an added step for safety . Just in case anything went wrong, the light of the sun would protect me from any harm and disease.

I walked towards the edge of the bed, my robe rustling. The patient’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids. I took my dagger and held it with my thumb along the sharp blade, the coolness of the metal numbing my nerves.

I pressed the point of the dagger to the patient’s forehead, the blade of the dagger turning ghostly green. I pressed a bit harder with the dagger.

Its eerie raw flesh went through the patient’s forehead, travelling directly into his brain.