The centerpiece at the top of the throne gave a soft cackle as Azoria lounged. She plopped a grape into her mouth as she sensed the darkness manifest behind it. A large man with the head of bull stepped out to the right. His pin stripe suit perfectly tapered to his broad chested frame as he towered above the throne. Black shoes shone like polished diamond dust. He held glossy hooves behind his back. A snort poured meaty smoke from a septum pierced by a thick ring that looked like sand blasted wrought iron.

Azoria plopped a grape into her mouth, “That’s a rather serious look for you.”

The bull snorted again. A puff of purple and gray smoke floated upward before forming into ropes of smoke that dove to grab Azoria and sit her straight.

“I am the ruler of chaos, not its slave. I can shed it when it serves my purpose. Does that scare you? Did you think your one advantage was that I could only dwell in my chaos? You’re going to regret such hubris. When it comes time to extend your mercy to the idiots. Give the one of alteration three half-moons.”

“I can’t!”

A power grabbed Azoria and sat her down forcefully, “Give her four.”

“Are you mad? That’s not fair. No one can survive that many!”

“Give her five.”

“Why are you doing this!? It’s not like you!”

“You wished for this world. You wanted order. You wanted law. You wanted numbers. I granted your wish. However, your will wavers. I want to see it break. I want to savor your disintegration in my shifting hell.”

Azoria turned pale and sweaty, she could barely breathe as she looked at her lap. Her eyes emptied of will as smoke pushed tightly against her ears.

“I’ll give her six.”

The bull smacked her over the head. Her neck snapped as her chin smacked her collar bone, then snapped again as it pushed back into place. Mogdell rubbed her hair with a large hoof. The sharp edge sliced deeply into her scalp and reddened her white hair.

“What do you know, they learn!”

Mogdell vanished from the cave.

The giant skull that capped her throne cackled again as Azoria stood. All the other skulls composing the seat jittered and laughed as she took her place in front of the abused podium. A bronze gavel materialized in her right hand. She slammed it down over the center. A gong rang across the cave, then reverberated into an ear-splitting screech as wood splinters shot across the stage.

People covered their ears, only a hooded figure endure the sound without flinching. Circe pushed her fingers in her ears as she squinted.

Azoria smiled gently as the ringing subsided, “First, for those among you that have openly chosen opposition. I bequeath unto you, my collar.”

Alfredo fell to his knees and clutched his neck. It felt like piano wire squeezed tightly around his neck. Like his head would pop off. Fingernails dug into his flesh as he choked. Blood stained the underside of his finger nails. There was nothing there but his own flesh, and he even felt air going through his lungs normally.

Circe pulled herself up on all fours and crawled over. She reached out her hand to caress his arm as fast shallow breaths rang through his closed teeth. He saw the moisture flowing down her red face and tried to calm himself, to stop his nails from biting his neck. He pushed his feet into the ground and gasped, only to feel like he took too much air. There was no lightheadedness or loss of consciousness. Circe turned to see Ebony on her back, choking and gagging as she clutched.

A tattoo in the shape of intertwining razor wires weaved around their necks. The sense of constriction eased, then passed, leaving its victims on the ground. Alfredo went to his hands and knees as Ebony became limp, laid on her back, and stared at the ceiling like a comatose patient. Circe tried to comfort her doctor and found her skin as cold and clammy as a corpse. The woman began to shiver.

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Nurse Azoria leaned over the doctor, “Well Paladin, considering your curse, I suppose your body will lose the ability to regulate temperature if we keep you awake much longer. Now that you have received your mercy, I release you from my attention.”

Ebony immediately fell into the soundest of sleeps. Nothing weaker than Azoria’s abilities would be waking her for the next twelve hours. The bronze gavel slammed the podium a second time. The wooden structure buckled as it splintered outward about the middle. It developed a leeward lean and looked ready to fail.

The disconcerting ring of a loud gong had people holding their ears all the way to the back of the cave as the reverberating echo became an obnoxious high pitch screech.

“And now, I will bestow my final and most merciful of mercies upon those who neglected to make a decision.”

Skulls tilted so that their foramen magnums faced the ceiling. The sound of cackling whispered from the stage. The throne of skulls went alight with intense purple flame. Chain shaped rods rose slowly from the arms and the seat. Sharp spear-like points threatened from one end as the bottoms simmered in purple-black flame that crackled. Cackled. Azoria clutched the iron and pulled from the throne, then rested it over her shoulder so that the flat end faced upward.

“You will receive the mark of the half-moon.”

She thrust the business end of the branding iron forward toward the audience. The elevated half moon glowed a freakish neon violet as an aura of tendrils poured forth. It resembled a half-lidded eye that squinted as it nearly closed in disdain. At times the quivering tendrils resembled lashes.

More copies appeared throughout the cave in the nurse’s uniform. Megan’s clutch against the clothes of her partner broke as a nurse Azoria pulled her. The baseball player dropped his bat as a nurse Azoria grabbed his shoulder from behind while pulling back his arms with her tail. Another nurse readied the branding iron in front of him.

The ghostly complected woman with the frayed pink dress found her feet bound to the floor by tendrils as a nurse ran clawed fingers through her long black hair.

Screaming renewed throughout the cave.

A hooded figure faced its nurse. It reached a withered hand over its head to pull down the covering to reveal a withered face with mottled white and gray hair and an unkempt gray beard. The demon lord pointed her branding iron at his forehead after swinging it.

“You’re not ending suffering; you’re wallowing in it.”

Her eyes widened, glowing slightly, and she laughed, “Wallowing! Wallowing!? Embrace what you can’t control, right!? Look at me. Look at how powerful I’ve become. Time. Space. Rules. Conventions. Laws. Nothing can stop me! I’m amazing! I’m wonderful! I’m God! I’ve broken the mold you made for me. I’ve transcended! I defeated the system. I killed God. Look at me!” she stopped laughing and took a deep breath, “Or don’t look, but the more you resist the weaker you’ll get. Just accept this mercy like a good little hermit.”

Kunchen emptied his mind and refilled it from his own spiritual well as he braced himself. The brand went against his forehead. Flesh bubbled and cracked as the half moon mark burned into his skin. His eyes rolled up until only the whites were visible. Lips twisted into a pained grimace as the tendrils spread over his flesh and ate into his aura.

Shrill screams bounced off Kunchen’s meditation as Megan rolled on the granite floor nearby. Burning steam rose from her forehead with the scent of grilled skin.

Darrone jumped to get a hold of her shoulder but a foot loosely clad with a stocking kicked him under the chin so forcefully it knocked his teeth together. The tendrils spread from Megan’s forehead, down her neck and over her left arm as she clawed at the granite and screamed. Her partner could only watch as she kicked.

The baseball player arched his back while pressing his palms against his forehead. Tears ran down his face as he kicked his legs. Teeth gnashed together and ground themselves down as the tendrils ate into his aura while spreading down over his neck. He reached toward the ceiling to grab at nothing with his right hand while his left pounded the granite so hard that it popped and cracked.

“I want my mommy! I want my mommy!” he screamed, and he continued screaming exactly those words over and over again.

He urinated, vomited, and defecated at once. Mucus bubbled as it poured from his flared nostrils while he repeated himself in voice shattering screams. His personal Azoria pierced him on the shoulder with the sharp end of the branding iron. Blood issued from the wound to further stain his uniform.

“Oh, look at the talented bug. You’re leaking all the fluids,” Azoria laughed over him as he continued to strain, to scream, to thrash, “But you and I both know it’s merely instinct. Insects don’t reeeally suffer," her mirth became serious, "So you should probably grow up.”

The light of the cave shifted so that the being standing over Circe cast a substantial shadow. The branding iron rested across the back of her shoulders as her fingers gripped the bar at both ends to hold it lengthwise behind her neck. Circe slowly looked upward from shadow to see an expressionless Azoria staring back.

Alfredo charged, only to be thrust upward by the force of a strong uppercut, and then fell with his body limp and sprawled out.

The branding iron raised, then twirled into the pale palm. Sharp black nails clicked against the chain pattern. Azoria’s eyes continued to stare, yet began to shift rapidly as they scanned her prey. A burning sizzle smoked the air from the glowing half-moon. Circe gasped, froze, found herself unable to stop the flow of her tears as she watched those pitiless lips twist upwards into a large toothy grin. Azoria laughed as the continuing screams whispered around them.

“I saved the best for last.”