Master?" He woke with a start. His eyes were bleary, and drool ran down his face. He wiped his cheek and sat up. He had fallen asleep on his desk again. A little creature was standing on it, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

Wait. Had he fallen asleep?

"Master, you can't be falling asleep like this all the time. Mistress is going to beat you again if she catches you." She pointed a clawed finger at him, waggling it as she spoke.

She was scolding him.

Her voice was familiar. Her face was familiar. He felt an ache in his heart for the slightest moment, but then it was gone.

"Wha-what happened?" He asked, sitting upright. He looked around. He was in his study. The walls of the wooden room were lined with bookshelves filled with books and a variety of implements and ingredients. There were several piles of books around his desk, each emblazoned with runes and sigils. A window revealed that it was night outside. It was pitch black.

"Silly master. Always forgetting things. Falling asleep. What would you do with me?" She patted his head, then hopped up off his desk. "Don't worry. You can always take care of the chores tomorrow. I'll do them today, okay? You keep studying." The little thing smiled, her fangs pricking her lower lip as she scampered away.

He sat back down. He had to study. He had to read the books. He opened the one he had fallen asleep reading. The pages were burnt. The runes were ruined. No wonder he'd fallen asleep reading it. He threw it aside and grabbed another. Opening it, he found the text to be illegible. He tried to focus. The words seemed to rearrange themselves, but he couldn't make them out.

Nothing was sinking in. It was too hard. It was always so hard.

Wait. Wasn't he on the road?

On the road. Something happened there. What was it?

The little imp was back beside him, a book in her arms. "Master? You look worried. Are you okay?"

The student shook his head and rubbed his temples. Something had happened. Was happening? What was it? He felt so scrambled.

The young elf wracked his brain. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember. He decided that it was probably nothing important. The only thing that was important was impressing Aughra. She said he had more talent than anyone, but he wasn't driven enough. If he didn't work harder, he'd never be as strong as her.

"I'm okay. I just didn't sleep well is all." He patted the imp's head. "Don't worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you. It's my job, silly. Don't you remember?" She smiled up at him. He always liked her smile.

He read some more. It made little sense, but at least he could say he was getting work done. Before long, however, his stomach growled. He was famished.

"Are you hungry, Master? I think they might have dinner prepared." The imp skittered away from the desk and into the doorway, beckoning him to follow her. He groaned. Aughra wasn't a great cook, but at least he would be fed. She was probably just finishing up dinner. He sniffed. It smelled good. Really good.

He followed the imp.

As he left the study, that feeling that he had forgotten something came back. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something?

Dinner. That was it. He was hungry.

He watched the imp walk down the hallway. The walls weren't wooden. He realized he wasn't in their old cottage. No, he was somewhere else. The hallway was stone. There were doors on either side. Some were open. There were treasures in them. He was filled with pride. They were his treasures.

A thought flickered in the back of his mind, but it burned into smoke before he could make anything of it. He shrugged and kept following the imp down his vault's hallway, toward the great hall.

"Abad, wake up!" A voice came from somewhere. He looked, but he couldn't see its source.

He reached out with his mind, searching. Searching for...

What was he looking for?

"Come, master! They're waiting for us!" The imp waved him on. "You're acting so funny today. Keep up!"

The warlock blinked. Ah yes. Dinner. He stretched his muscles and groaned. He had been working all night, branding the new slaves. He had acquired them a week before, and some of them had decided they wanted to revolt. He gave the leaders to the orcs, then took some extra precautions with the rest. He looked at the scepter in his hand. [Final Law] would ensure they stayed loyal. They would obey without question now. They had no choice.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Come on!" She called to him, pulling him from his thoughts.

His stomach growled, and he followed his little servant toward the great hall. Something smelled good. He was so hungry.

When they reached the archway dividing his back rooms from the great hall, he found two large iron doors.

He hesitated.

Had he always had doors dividing the back halls from the great hall? He tried to remember. He didn't think so, but maybe he had forgotten. It made sense to seal off his personal quarters. He didn't want anyone snooping around back there. Not that they could. His vault was for him and him alone.

"Go in. It's time to eat." She pushed the doors open. Shaking his head, he entered. The room was large. Over a dozen banners decorated the walls. Servants lined the walls. There were six of them. People were sitting at his dining table. Thirteen of them.

"Abad, Wait! Stop!" The voice shouted. He could barely hear it now. He wiped his eyes. He felt tired. He must be exhausted from the campaign stretching on. It had taken much longer than he had hoped, but the time was coming. The Ten Kingdoms would fall soon. He would be victorious.

"Something's wrong with him!" The voice again.

"Why can't I see you?" He asked the voice. The people at the table didn't hear him. He looked back the way he came, but there was only darkness.

"Master, please. Everyone's waiting." The little imp pleaded. He entered, and the doors shut behind him.

"A damn devil!" He felt his body tense. Who was a devil?

A servant came and guided him to his chair. "Welcome, Great King. We hope you enjoy the feast."

It was a party. What was it a party for? He had forgotten.

The servant pulled the chair at the head of the long iron table out for him, and he sat upon it. It was comfortable. Felt right. As he sat, the guests stood and the servants bowed. He waved for them to seat themselves. He placed his hands on the table. The surface was rough, rusted, pitted. He gestured at a servant. He was ready to eat.

A servant appeared and placed his meal in front of him. A massive cut of meat, bone-in. Thick black bread. A goblet full of red wine. The latter looked excellent. He drank deep. It was delicious.

"Hear! Hear!" Someone shouted from the other side, raising their goblet.

"Hear! Hear!" The others followed.

He took another pull of his wine. It tasted odd. Swirling it, he realized something. The wine wasn't wine. It was blood. He downed the entire glass, and the servant poured him another.

He felt stronger.

What were we celebrating? He wondered.

Ah, yes. His ascension. His return to the throne. Of course. How had he forgotten?

"My dear children, it is wonderful to see you again. It has been far too long." His voice wasn't his. It was far too deep, booming. He looked down. His arms were black. There were flames dancing under his skin. He drank more.

"Hear! Hear!" The table cheered.

"Would you like some more, my lord?" The voice sounded familiar. He turned to face it. The man's eyes were black pits. Abad nodded. The man bowed deeply and filled his goblet with more of the excellent blood. Swirling the crimson liquid, Abad drank his fill. He felt life returning to him.

"Please, wake up!" The voice again. Strained. Where was it coming from?

His mind swam for a moment, then things came into focus. He was where he was supposed to be. He was home. He looked around the great table, at each of his guests. No. Not guests. His children. He was surrounded by his family.

They spoke with one another. Laughed as they told tales, sharing stories of their lives. They seemed to have hidden meanings as they spoke. They were so polished. There said the right things, laughed at the right times.

He took another sip of the blood.

His children smiled politely when their eyes met his. Cheered when they were supposed to. These were his sons and daughters, his obedient children.

It was their place to obey. To fawn over their father. To serve him forever.

After another cup of blood, one of the serving women excused herself. He frowned. He hadn't permitted her to leave. He looked her over. She was immaculate, dressed in revealing black clothes that accentuated her perfect form. Her dark eyes met his.

"Why do you go?" He called after her. He didn't want her out of his sight.

She smiled demurely, bowing as she did. "I wish to prepare a bath, my lord. Please excuse me." She bowed again and left without saying anything more.

Another drink. Another round of polite laughter from his children. The woman's eyes though... her body... they called to him.

"My dear children, continue to enjoy yourselves. I wish to retire." Each child rose and bowed deeply, then sat back down, enjoying the festivities. He rose, ascending the stairs to his bed chambers.

He found the door ajar. Inside, candles flickered, casting shadows upon the walls. He stepped into the dim room, closing the heavy oak door behind him. There was a soft rustling coming from the bed ahead of him. It was the serving woman.

She was clothed in her thick black hair, flawless alabaster skin and nothing else. He was pleased. Every inch of her body was perfection, like a statue of the perfect female form carved from marble. Her piercing sapphire eyes gazed upon him with adoration and lust. A smile curled her ruby lips. She crawled across his bed, effortlessly gliding across the silk sheets.

"My lord. I'm pleased that you've come. May I show you my devotion?" Her hands reached for his. She pressed her lips to the backs of his hands

"Yes. Worship me." He grabbed her throat. Pulled her plump lips to his. Her tongue danced across his lips. She pulled his shirt off, revealed his muscular form. "Show me your passion." Her lips left his. They pressed into his neck. His chest. His arms. His hands. She worshiped him entirely.

He reached down and lifted the woman's chin until she gazed upon him once again. She was beautiful beyond words. He leaned forward to kiss her red lips. He could taste her sweetness. Their tongues danced together.

Then he pushed backward onto the bed. Her legs spread wide as she awaited him. He climbed atop her. He grabbed her wrists. She whimpered softly. A tear trickled down her cheek, staining his skin. Abad growled with lust. Hunger. He buried his mouth into her neck and bit. She moaned. More blood. It was exquisite.

Her moans grew louder. Filled with ecstasy. Then, they were piercing. Filled with pain. Her voice changed. It wasn't hers. She was screaming.

"Abad!" The voice said. It was female. Abad kept biting, digging into her neck. Hot red blood gushed from her flesh. Skin tore. Blood filled his mouth.

"Abad-Shai, stop!" A new voice. Male. Familiar. Abad growled, his claws tearing into her wrists as he fed.

"Stop him!" A third voice.

His head swam, the world around him twisted, and he woke up.