I had thought that things would get hectic and urgent at this point, but my guess had proven to be wrong. Instead, Cerolus’ demeanor was calm, hauntingly so. His approach to the entire situation as being even less concerning or interesting than the events that transpired yesterday afternoon, makes me flabbergasted at best. I mean, I don’t understand the entire situation, but surely I’ve never seen Kozzok do that before, and the cryptic saying of us not going home is quizzical to the point of wondering how much exactly I have learned about Kozzok in all this time.

Cerolus’ voice finally interrupts my line of thought. “So soon? It shouldn’t happen so fast. How long ago has it started exactly?

Never mind, that doesn’t matter anymore. Well then, I guess we’ll be going to your Satyrn.”

Satyrn? What’s a Satyrn, and why doesn’t the necklace translate it? Is it not a translatable word?

“Cerolus, what’s going on? What’s a Satyrn? What’s happening to him?” My questions make me look like a simple child among the crowd. Even worse, the crowd around us seems to be completely aware of what is going on, and a passing child asks the same question to what appears to be his mother. I can hear the mother answer in a comforting but sullen tone.

“That’s a Shadowling, dear. He’s going to meld soon, and they go to their Satyrn to do that.”

“Mommy, what’s meld?”

“You know how last year, your grandpa died and went to Great Kreshor? Well, this is like that, except that Shadowlings go to their God, Moros of the Darkness.”

“Does that mean that mister is going to die?”

“Yes, dear.” The child is now sadder than I first noticed him, but not particularly taken aback by the notion.

Do children not understand dying? How is that anything but terrible? Worst of all, Kozzok’s dying? Why, or how, didn’t he tell me that? And Cerolus seems completely fine with that? What in the World is going on?

Death is the worst thing that happens, how can anyone be as oblivious to that? Cerolus himself should be more aware of that, especially now that I know he has been in the war.

Wait, how does all of this make me feel? Kozzok’s dying, or melding, whatever that means, and I’m standing here contemplating why they are taking their sweet time doing nothing about it.

“Why are you not doing anything?” I ask Cerolus in almost a childlike tantrum, my face heating up for no good reason.

“What do you mean? We’re going to the Satyrn. There’s nothing else to do.”

“So you’re just going to let him die?”

“Well… yes.” I can now spot a faint presence of shock on Cerolus’ face. He only seems unaffected by this, but how much is he hiding behind this façade? “Let’s go. There isn’t really much point in standing there.”

Cerolus simply starts walking, to which Kozzok responds by shuffling behind him, his movement more akin to a snake slithering about the ground, his legs below the knee almost completely sunk in what appears to be nothing more than a spot of darkness on the ground.

I follow them, still unsure of everything that is going on now.

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Our return to the mansion consisted of the three of us going into the carriage, Kozzok now sitting with us in the cabin rather than in the front, his usual place now ceded to a Grey Imp that seemingly appeared from nowhere, and passing the entirety of the short journey in utter silence. I didn’t want to ask anything, Cerolus didn’t seem to want to talk, and Kozzok was his usual silent self.

At this point I realized I know nothing about him, or about what he is. For someone that was in close proximity to me for the past four weeks. And now he is dying. How ignorant of this World am I exactly? Will I change, will I learn?

The silent treatment lasted well after we reached the mansion, as I found out that all the things we had were already packed and ready for travel, our destination the only thing being changed apparently.

I looked outside the carriage as we slowly left the Capital. I had been here less than two days, and I already felt sick of it. Is it because of me, because of what happened, and can it be changed with time? I’ve learned so little about it, seen so few things, I feel like I’ve only grazed the possibilities inside it. And yet somehow, I’ve decided that I had enough. Truly, I feel ignorant.

The sullen air inside the carriage did nothing to change my mood, and the silence of the Demons that accompanied me didn’t help either. Surely, I could ask something, anything, and be given some answers?

“Kozzok, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I’m afraid my time is up Mistress. I must return where I came from. The Darkness is calling upon me again, and I must answer. I am bound to answer.”

“So this is it? Just like that, you’re dying and nothing can be done?”

To this, I am met only with silence and not so reassuring sighs from Cerolus.

I guess this conversation will have to continue another time.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

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The uneventful travel has lasted for what seems to be a few hours, as the Sun is now starting to lose height in the sky. However, the sky itself starts getting darker, even with the fullness of Sun’s ray being uninterrupted by any clouds. It’s as if wherever we are going, the Sun never shines, simply because it isn’t allowed to.

Gradually, the entire area around us is engulfed in twilight, as if it is evening outside. Which is precisely the moment the carriage starts to slow down. Wherever we were going, we have arrived. Cerolus exits, followed by Kozzok’s slithering, after which my feet touch solid ground once again. What lies before me is… strange.

The darkness seems to be coming out of a swirling mass of… something. The entire area feels unnatural and hostile, my instincts screaming at me to back away. The mass itself contains some light inside it, before the darkness shifts and covers it all up, only to be pushed outside, the tiny specks of light resurfacing once more.

And then I heard it. The wailing, the moaning, the screeches. As if there is something, or someone, crying inside the mass, making all this darkness come from within with it. The voices assault my senses, my body involuntarily shuddering despite the heat of the air around me. How is it so cold and warm at the same time? Nothing about this makes sense, nothing feels right, the entire existence of this thing is wrong.

Cerolus then starts talking for the first time since we left the Church, completely unaffected by the cacophony before us.

“This is a Satyrn, or a Shadowspawn. It is where Shadowlings come from, and it is where they go back. This is the beginning and the end for them, all that matters to them in the end of it all. What we call life to them is nothing but a passage of time outside the Satyrn. Nobody knows what happens inside, and nobody but Shadowlings is able to enter it.”

“So, this is it? This is where it ends for him? He dies, and nothing is left, only the mere memory of him inside us?”

“Is that not enough sometimes? When do people die, when they leave, or when they are forgotten? If we cannot stop the passage of time, can’t we at least cherish what it did, and how it mattered?”

My sudden urges get the best of me and I hug Kozzok, or at least what part of him remains outside the darkness, as he seems to slowly disappear into it. Now I realize why they call it melding.

“I know we don’t know each other, but I’m going to remember you Kozzok. You better believe that. I’ll remember what you did for me, and I regret that I won’t be able to thank you for that.”

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The feeling of Mistress’ soft skin as she clutches to the little of me that is left outside is warm.

How do I respond to her words? Surely, we don’t know each other, we can’t know each other, and yet she says she will remember me?

“Don’t fret Mistress. I’ll remember you too. It was nice to be in your service, even though we knew each other for such a short time. It was nice.”

I turn towards the Master. It is time for me to go.

“Master, I wish to be released from your service.”

He only looks at me, a single line of water going down his cheeks, as he starts to remove the Connection. I feel a part of me that I never knew existed coming back, returning to this failing body. But I also feel like I shouldn’t have it, that it belongs to the Master as well.

The markings of the Connection flash on Master’s skin, before burning away, leaving nothing but a mere shadow of it ever existing. And thus, I’ll turn into nothing but a memory for him. Everybody turns into mere memories for Master. Truly a complex and inexplicable existence, to see people go away, to see people leave.

In the end, I never know how he feels about all of this. He has experienced all of this before, and he will probably do so again. Does it feel the same each time? Does it feel different? Is it better? Is it worse? How does it actually feel to lose someone? I know so much about him, yet so little, what is the point of all this? The instinctual wish to serve someone, the drive to be by his side, to be bonded until I go back to my Satyrn, is that all there is for me in here?

I heard of what my Master can do. Perhaps he would be willing maybe? Will he grant me that? Am I allowed wishes? Am I allowed to take something with me upon my return? Is that the point of me being here by his side?

“Master… can you make me feel? I wish to feel. I want to know how it feels.”

“How what feels, Kozzok?”

“Everything. I wish to know about… everything. The good, the bad, the gains, the losses. The love, what does it mean to love.”

The call of Darkness etches into my very being, the hailing from the Satyrn becoming stronger as my Master stands before what is left of me outside the Darkness. I can’t even feel how much of me is left outside, the Darkness is welcoming. The Darkness is everything, and everything is Darkness.

Master… no, no longer master, but Cerolus Kreshorok, as I called him only once before, the day we first met, the day I left this very Satyrn, puts a hand around what I trust to be the remnant of my head.

Darkness calls for me, the voices echo around me, but his hand anchors me to this very place, as if he himself will not let me go. Then I feel the warmth of his forehead across mine, the sizzling heat of his skin melting away at the darkness, driving away the hauntings that search me.

And then everything turns to light. A burning sensation crosses my chest as the entirety of my being is flooded by images, colors, motions. I see what it is to have someone by your side, and I can feel what it is like to lose it. A single thread that invisibly connects two people seems severed, and the coldness of your very heart prevents you from ever thinking the thread is going to be repaired, that you’ll ever have something like that thread again, like you are losing a portion of yourself with that someone, that they’re taking it away. And you hate them for it, and you want them to give it back, and you want to see them again, no matter what you have to give, only to have them back. To have that thread safely spun around you, where nothing can harm it. But nothing but cold dark remains.

Then I feel the warmth inside, the fluttering of tiny wings across the air, the sensitive allure of touch of someone’s skin, the greatness of being near it. My eyes turn towards the Mistress, and the feeling grows stronger, the flames burn brighter and the entire world spins and disappears out of sight. I can feel nothing but warmth now, the entirety of my being focused solely on wanting to stay near, to hang on. Is this what they call love? Is this how they feel towards one another?

Is this the purpose for them? How is it allowed to feel so great, then feel so sorrowful after it ends? Does it end, or does it just stay with you as you move forward no matter what happens. Do the feelings of sorrow, of loss, stop and yield before these brighter ones in time? Is it the memories that seal the bad and release the good?

The flood stops. The warmth cedes. The Darkness comes again, but it isn’t the same. There’s something more in it now. A familiarity of sorts, as if I were always meant to be here in the first place. As if I was away, and now I’m back again. The same feelings that were just before shown to me are present again.

“Thank you.”

He has shown me what it is like to lose, and what it is like to have. And I feel both. I’ve lost someone, and gained something in return. I’ve grown past what I used to be, and I’m ready to embrace what I will become. This doesn’t seem like an end, but merely a small change. And I think everything is going to change yet again.

The Darkness takes me. The Darkness is everything, and everything is Darkness. But it feels exactly where I’m supposed to be. It feels like home.

Cerolus Kreshorok, let us hope we meet each other again. In a different time, in a different life. And be well until then. As for me, I think I’m going to be fine.