Welcome, my name is Alex, no last name (at least at the beginning), we commoners didn’t get those. This is the tale of how a little greed and maybe some hormones (okay a ton of hormones, I was a growing boy) ended up changing my life and the lives of many others forever. It's not the happy tale where the knight gets the girl, unless the girl is a total f-ing psychopath (crap, no spoilers Alex!) This tale simply is what was. This is the tale of how I became a God, the God of Undeath. I know creepy, right?
***
In an ever-drifting void, there was a black and white marble temple, decorated in gold. The temple was centered on a disconnected island, floating in a rather vagary manner. This extra-dimensional realm was the home of Volana, Goddess of Balance.
Within the topmost room of this towering structure, a commotion could be heard. It was relatively easy to hear anything in the abnormally quiet void, but this was exceptionally uncommon. The Goddess and owner of this temple, Volana, was pacing back and forth, face wrinkled up in frustration and worry. She was in a panic over something, and her friend and ally Clarion, God of Games, tried to calm his long time companion.
Clarion’s numerous attempts to calm her seemed to finally take hold as Volana ceased her long strides and breathed deeply, ready to reassess the problem before her. With an exhausted sigh, she approached a viewing screen set within a large table. Her friend joined her at her side shortly after she started looking into it.
Volana and Clarion stood, staring over the image of her planet, as they floated aimlessly in the spatial area that was Volana’s home. This was Volana’s world, her creation, and it was supposed to represent her, represent balance.
Volana's power is derived from balance and also focused around it. A God or Goddess would gain energy from things aligned to their attribute and would lose energy in things opposed. As an old saying goes, "in all things there is balance," as this held true quite often, she amassed significant power, ranking as a greater god quickly. When she was granted the power of creation by nature's primal, this placed her in high God's ranks.
Volana, the Goddess of Balance, is one of only 12 high gods. While Clarion, her dearest friend, also known as the God of Games, was a greater god, a tier lower than herself. Not that he was any weaker than her in raw power; no, Clarion was just as strong as her, if not stronger. More often than not, the only separating quality between the high gods and the most powerful of the greater gods was the ability or power to create life.
Clarion was not yet granted the ability to create life, though some would argue that his creations came so close that none could tell the difference. The designs that he called A.I., which he used as managers for many of his challenging and complex games, were exceptionally advanced self-learning and sub-sentient programs. It did not bother him, though; high gods had too much to deal with for his taste, often needing to create and maintain several planets worth of life. Clarion was quite content with where he was.
As a high god, Volana also would create things inline with herself. As such, truly detested when her creations left that balance, so the scene below them did nothing to help her mood. This planet, while not her only world, was her pride and joy. She strived to create a perfectly balanced world during its creation, even the celestial-body itself being fifty-fifty water and landmasses on its surface. However, that was the easy part, a balance of mortals that still maintained free will; that was far more difficult.
Volana accomplished this by establishing a tendency ingrained in very souls that embodied all of the beings on Volanas, as the planet was named.
It was a prideful gesture to name a planet after one-self; even among the cockiest of high gods, this was rarely done. However, she believed that she achieved perfection in her goal; the name was only a fitting representation.
The powerful Goddess created a closed reincarnation system, locked to only this planet with a limited number of souls. However, that number is so massive that it would not fit on most parchments.
These souls' bodies would die, and the spiritual forms that remained would then go to her creation. As she called it, the sorter would purge the soul's memories; regardless of whether it was a man, a fly, or any creature in between. The soul would be returned to its original pure form, some an orb of light, others darkness.
The sorter took on the form of a beautiful six-winged angel, three wings holy and bright on one side, its others black and coated in a miasma. The wings would act as a filter and would ensure that an even number of light and dark souls existed on the planet at any time. She also created neutral souls; these helped maintain the balance of free will.
So how did it work, one might ask? Well, a light soul would be more attracted to, though not necessarily guaranteed to, take up professions that were wholesome and helpful. Farmers, guards, and preachers are some examples of these paths.
Whereas a dark soul would be drawn to the less desirable paths, though not all of them illegal, many are. Tax collectors, thieves, and mercenaries are some of these paths. A dark-souled individual could become a hero through free will, saving countless lives, and a light souled to be the very villain he saved them from. This was obviously not the norm, but possible still.
That's where the neutral souls came in to play. They were lesser in amount by far from the light or the dark souls, outnumbered 5 to 1 by either, but they were the balance's linchpins in this world. The neutral, though they were drawn more to the mundane jobs, typically ones no one else wanted, were Volana's balance keepers. Neutral souls find that they are happiest in a balance, feeling oppressed in an overly good area or threatened in an evil one. Often shifting to the opposite spectrum to counteract these emotions. This way, with such an intricate and delicate web weaved, a balance was maintained overall.
Back to the viewing screen and the scene at hand, that now has Volana's precious balance in utter chaos. An evil cloud is currently spreading through the hearts of her creations like wildfire. This creature was sucking all light, all goodness, and anything else, leaving only darkness and evil in its wake. "I cannot stop it, Clarion! My will does not reach it." She said in a panicked huff as she struggled to destroy this foul infestation once more.
"Hmm, that is interesting," said Clarion, calm as ever, as he considered what that meant. "If you, a high goddess, cannot be rid of it, then it must have another's marking," he exclaimed. Strolling around the room, almost playfully, Clarion joked as he covered his mouth in fake surprise, "Maybe its sabotage!"
Volana's eyes widened, missing the apparent joke; she gasped and nearly shouted, "What! You're saying another high god has placed this foul creature here?"
Clarion just shook his head, fighting off laughter at the sight of his friend taking his joke seriously. "I am only saying it is of another's creation; how it got here, I cannot say," after hearing his own words, he realized his joke might not be far off the mark. He hadn't taken any of this too seriously until now, as was his nature. However, if another high god was involved, it could be sabotage. Clarion's face became more serious, shivering at the thought. He continued, in a sobering tone, "Though the two incidents may be unrelated. I do find it unlikely that a high god let his or her pet get taken so easily, especially one so powerful."
Volana seemed to be very stressed at this point, which marred her otherwise beautiful features. The divine beings fixated on the creature below, "How am I to be rid of this blight if my power does not reach it?" she asked.
"If you cannot fight it yourself, then you will have to fight it through a proxy," Clarion suggested, looking up from the viewing screen.
“What exactly are you suggesting I do, Clarion?” Volana questioned as her face turned from the table to look at her friend.
"A champion," said Clarion, "You will need a champion to vanquish it. I think I have figured out what that creature is, also a potential candidate for your consideration." Tapping on a spot on her viewing table, it zoomed in to a large city near the center of all this darkness.
When they looked upon the city, they saw it was heavily infected with the taint; perhaps it even originated here. She turned in disgust at the sight of her creation being tarnished further by the second when the candidate to which Clarion was referring caught her divine eye. There was a scene of evil; to be sure, there were several souls this creature was currently consuming. Still, there was one whose soul of light remained pure, untouched, as if immune to the creature's invasion.
Perhaps she could use this one, whose end neared. This soul of light just might be exactly what was needed to restore her precious balance. She looked at Clarion, who smiled and said, "I have just the thing for your champion, and you're going to love it!" Nodding in acceptance, a gift from her dearest friend and a powerful god, he would not let her down to be sure. The scene below played on as they began to form a plan for this soul of light whose life was flickering out before her.
***
I was walking down the worn and cracked cobblestone road, performing my routine that became habit after a time. Wake up before dawn, eat a meager breakfast consisting of a stale roll or pastry, whatever was leftover from the day's sales. Oh, I forgot to mention I'm a baker, well apprentice baker actually, my fathers the real genius behind our semi-successful bakery. Anyway, after my always to small meal, I headed down this well used strip of laid stone that was the main road in my hometown, the great city of Solands.
And a great city she was, none like her in the Kingdom, other that the capital of course. With her high walls and 3 tiers most would find the city a wonder to behold. We couldn’t actually afford to live in the city though; we lived in the slums near the farmlands outside the city.
As the early morning wind blew through my short brown hair. The sun was just breaching the horizon, causing me to squint through the glare.
I was no stranger to working, so my skin was bronzed from days in the sun, my body well-muscled from many a long days labor. In addition to my brown hair I also had deep brown eyes, a gift from my late mother. The life of a commoner on Volanas was hard work. The work kept us fed but offered little in the way of luxury, so it was no surprise that I wore a threadbare white shirt and patchwork pants, which were a bit small for my 6-foot tall frame.
As I headed to my family's bakery, I whistled a small tune, nothing official really, just whatever popped in my head. My father would already be there; he left earlier than I, prepping and baking the various breads. I rarely got to help; my baking skills, which weren't bad, were not on par with my dad's just yet. He promised to teach me one day, though. Walking past some farmers tending their fields, something felt off; like an itch I couldn’t scratch, I'm not entirely sure why. I decided to walk a little faster just to be safe.
I could see the city gates now, not really all that busy at this time of day, mostly local merchants going to set up shop. Dawn was just barely breaking now. This was the only major road that led to the noble district further inside the massive city, so it was far too crowded to be used as an actual road, and it rarely was, unless some noble or rich wad was exiting to the countryside. Mostly it served as a bustling bazaar, where I ran a stall for my father’s bakery. The bakery itself was somewhat hidden, located just a bit off the main road, through some alleyways.
I sold smaller items that travelers or adventurers would be more apt to purchase, such as rolls, pastries, and even stonebread, a traveling ration. Stonebread, though it lacked in taste, (It tasted like sand. Honestly, the stuff was so dry you couldn't actually eat it without water.) served its purpose well. The brick-shaped bread lasted dang near forever and was better than nothing on the journeys where game may be sparse.
I entered the city from the merchants' gate, a smaller gate right of the large travelers' gate. Passing through the commons, where the poor and common folk resided, those that lived within the city’s walls anyway. There were several early riser travelers on the road already as well as a few mismatched groups of people with weapons of various fighting styles. These would be the groups of adventurers out to complete tasks for the local guild. Only those eager to make a name for themselves or "newbies" got up this early. All the teams I saw were of the martial type, mages were scarce, and even here in Solands, a major city would only see a few of them.
My route continued past several more stalls, greeting other sellers setting up for the days' sales. Eventually, I came to a narrow alleyway that was hidden in the market. Taking a turn down the alleyway, the wonderful smell of fresh-baked bread assailed me. A scent I smelled daily, and yet, it never failed to stir my hunger.
Upon reaching the bakery storefront, I saw my father waiting for me, a small cart already loaded with the stalls goods waiting at his side. "Gooooood morning!, enjoy the stroll?" said my father, sarcastically.
I was taken aback, this wasn't his normal "hey, son" or "Morning boy", and I usually had to load the cart myself. My father, Samos, glared at me for a bit before stating, with no lack of disappointment in his voice, "You forgot, didn't ya’ boy?”
Realization struck (SHIT!) I swore silently; stupid routine. Today was when my father was going to teach me how to bake like him!
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Being a baker's son, I could make just about anything you could think of. Yet, when it came to the comparison of my father's creations, they always lacked taste. No matter what I tried on my own, changing the ratio of ingredients here and there, nothing ever really worked. Well actually, a few of those experiments did wield some cool new types of bread, but it more often than not came out an inedible mess. (Which I still had to eat; commoners can't afford to be wasteful. I quit experimenting after a really bad failure. I get shivers thinking about it even now.)
I glanced around as if searching for a way, any way to get out of the screwup. Only after my gaze caught a look at my father's face, or more pointedly the scowl he wore on it, did I know that any excuse would be pointless. At worst, it would piss him off and make it so I would have to start my baking lessons from scratch. I did not want to go through that again.
Deciding the best course of action was to just fess up and face what’s coming, I looked to my father, then the scowl turned to disappointment on the man's face. It was probably due to my stalling, but man, did that hurt. I hated to disappoint my father. I loved messing with him, and caused my fair bit of trouble, but actual disappointment, no thanks. He was a stern man, but a fair one, one thing he hated was a lair, he saw it as weakness, cowardice. His favorite line when he caught me as a child “I ain’t raising no weakling!”
Putting on my best “Good Son” voice I spoke “I am sorry, father, there is no excuse. I got caught in my routine and forgot," then lowered my head as I asked. "C-can you please make an exception and teach me tomorrow morn?"
Samos thought it over a good minute, or two then sighed. Seeing that his son was earnest and respectful in his apology. Or at least pretending to be anyway, that was a good step for the ornery little…. Shaking off his thought Samos decided he reward good behavior, even if he suspected it was only skin deep. “I suppose, but don’t you be forgettin' again! This is the last chance, mind you, miss this, then ya' has to start from scratch." he said, looking me dead in the eye to make sure I knew he was serious.
Having my father be willing to give me another chance was a surprise. Still, one I didn’t hesitate to accept; the stubborn old mule was not exactly known for giving second chances. (Whew! I can’t believe that worked.) I exclaimed internally. I was even laughing again soon after as my father jokingly kicked me in the rear while I hauled the stalls bread away.
Samos sighed as he watched his son walk away. “I wonder how ornery he’s gonna get when he finds out mah secrets just addin’ a pinch o' sugar to the dough?”
Now I was walking down the alleyway back towards the main road, feeling of relief and regret. (I’ll not forget again) I swore. The importance I placed on this lesson was equal to my very future, as far as I was concerned, anyway. The stall for the bread was just to the left of the ally's exit, some three stalls down. Next to my booth, there was a local fruit and preserves selling woman, Milda, a farmer's wife. She always appreciated having a baker stall next to hers. She claimed it was "as it should be" or something along those lines. She was a kind but stern woman who reminded me of my own mother, who passed only a few years back.
I also respected her and her husband quite a bit; they lived not far from us on the town's outskirts. They were further from the gate so they could have easier access to the fields he tended. When my mother passed, they were always around, helping out until my father could get back on his feet, never asking for a thing in return.
About a half-hour after the sun finished its rise from the horizon, the city came to full life. Many adventurers and travelers, at least those who did not need to leave quite so early, we're now exiting the local inns to begin their journey anew. Several heading straight to the local herbalist to ease the hangover they were nursing. (I wonder how the adventurers I saw this morn'n are doing?) I daydreamed as shoppers wandered the stalls looking for the best deals for their daily meals. Of course, one could also see the occasional street urchin sneaking a piece of fruit or roll from unaware stall attendants.
I often wondered about the adventurers, seeing them as heroic figures, something I could never be. Still, there was no harm in daydreaming about being one myself, was there?
Oh, the grand adventures and epic battles they must have, the treasures and unknowns waiting to be discovered by them, and the thrill of victory over a formidable enemy. I could get lost in those thoughts for hours.
As most days before now, the morning went by slow and tedious, with little to do but stand and wait for the days rush to begin. That was until a commotion could be seen coming from the direction of the nobles district.
A caravan was being led by an extravagant set of mounted knights. Dressed in what I assumed was armor that served more for ceremony than actual battle, as it looked really impractical and expensive. At least compared to what I saw adventurers wearing, and they fought monsters for a living.
Behind the overdressed knights, a set of three covered carriages, each respectively flanked by two more of the flashy knights. Past the three carriages was a set of two covered cargo wagons. Following the last wagon pair, another ceremonial knights group trotted along gracefully, despite the armor's apparent weight.
“Quite a show, taking this route. Must be someone needing to make it obvious they're leaving," said Milda, the fruit selling farmer's wife. "Seems strange to me, how one could possess so much and work so little," she remarked again, obviously bitter.
I replied, “don’t know much about the nobility personally.” as the caravans’ head knight slowly trotted past. "But I've never seen no'one make such a fuss just ta walk down the street. Those shiny knights' armor doesn’t seem to be really easy to fight in either. I thought that the "nobility" traveled practically," I snarked. "Well, that I've seen anyway," I added quickly; I had almost no experience with nobility. However, my father trained me thoroughly in interacting with them because to offend one could mean severe punishment.
"Wouldn’t all that shiny crap just make ‘em a target?" An older gentleman chimed in, who was browsing the fruits of Milda's stand when the caravan caught everyone's attention.
Just then, as the third carriage was slowly passing my stand, a shout came from within, ordering the whole spectacle to halt. After halting, which was not all too difficult considering the slow pace they were traveling, the carriage door flew open, and a beautiful young woman emerged.
She stood maybe to my shoulder; she had long, straight blonde hair, accentuated by her eyes, which were deep blue, like sapphires. She wore several pieces of silver jewelry, which only seemed to intensify her eyes. She wore on a long flowing dark blue dress made of soft fabrics. I dare not try to guess the price of her outfit, but it was far more than I would see in my life as a baker.
As she stepped from the caravan's final carriage, she exuded the confidence of a high noble, and yet she was walking straight towards my stall, staring directly at me.
At first, I was sure I offended this stunning beauty in some way. (Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!) My panicked mind repeated. I gulped and prepared to apologize profusely for whatever offense I may have caused.
Before I had the chance, however, she said to me, "You boy, you simply must sell me some of your delectable bread, I caught a delicious scent a bit back there, and I'm certain this is its source."
(Boy? Boy! I’m as old as you!) My mind’s internal ego screamed at the noblewoman. However, outside of my mental tirade, I simply stood there dumbfounded. Staring dumbly for what was probably too long considering her status. I finally realized what I was doing; blushing slightly, I cleared my throat.
With my best fake merchant smile (another dad thought skill, “Always smile, even if they spit at you.”), I replied, "Of course, my lady, I am most honored to be visited by one such as you this day. Which of my wares is to your liking?" This was the practiced greeting my father had ground into me. I knew better than to offend the nobility and was confident the one standing before me was of high status.
She thought for a moment then replied, "I shall purchase the lot of it, what is not to my liking surly my men will not mind, if not them then the beasts.”
I was shocked and slightly offended at the thought of my father's bread going to beasts, but a sale was a sale. I also knew my father would rather the coin over stale bread and a stubborn (possibly gallowed, or dead) son. After swallowing my pride, I replied, "Of course, my lady, how shall I pack them for you? Most of my customers choose to carry them in hand, but if it pleases my lady, I can go to my father's shop and get proper wrappings.”
Two shiny guards appeared out of nowhere with a wave of her hand and began packing up all the bread, even the tasteless stonebread. Another one of the guards handed me a signed ticket for the local bank. Its value was double, if not triple, the actual cost of the bread I just sold. "That won't be necessary." She remarked. "I come prepared for such things. Now I have purchased your entire stock for the day, have I not?" She said in a playful tone as she grabbed a pastry from my rack that had yet to be packed.
I blinked, confused by her sudden change of tone and demeanor (Is she smiling?), I thought, then responded with, "Yes, it seems you have, my lady." She smiled; this time I was sure of it.
"Then I must ask a further favor of you, I am to attend a ball tonight and find myself without an escort. You are a handsome lad and would do fine on my arm. All you would need to do is stand there and follow me around. I'll pay you double the coin of what your little shop makes in a year, what say you?"
I was totally lost now; what kind of windfall was this? First, I sell out my stall in less than it took the sun to reach its peak. Now I have a chance to make twice the sum my father makes in a year? And to simply stand, with this beauty before me no less, how could I say no?
I promptly agreed and was in the carriage with the beautiful lady and off to this ball before Milda even had a chance to warn me. Milda knew something was fishy because nobles never offer such deals, and even less so to be seen in public with a commoner. She knew this was wrong and was in mind to warn me, but I was a boy blinded by both beauty and opportunity. A dangerous pair if there ever was one, with her chance to stop me gone, Milda rushed to my father's store. She only hoped Samos would be able to do something before it was too late.
***
The clack-clack-clack of the wheels and the clop-clop-clop of the horse's hooves were all that broke the silence within the carriage where I nervously sat. I wondered if it was really a good idea to come with this beautiful woman I now faced. (I think I might have been a bit too impulsive there. I don't even know this person!) Getting even more nervous as I thought about the mistakes I might make at a nobles ball and their consequences.
As if sensing my ever-rising fears, she spoke. “We shall be there soon, not to worry, simply do as you are told, remain quiet, and look no one of noble status other than myself in the eye. Do this, and you shall be paid handsomely,” she said in a calming tone.
With this, I relaxed slightly as the carriage continued to an unknown estate; however, a very different conversation was occurring in the carriage ahead of us. If I heard it at the time, it would have caused me to flee in horror.
***
"So, she has found a new toy, has she?" said a refined gentleman who was in his forties. He was well dressed and with a neat trim of both hair and beard; he gave off an aura of strength.
Across from him sat the very visage of beauty, the same as the young noblewoman Alex encountered, but more mature, more refined, not at all dimming with age.
"Yes, it would seem Julia has done so on a whim; I do so hope she makes this one last longer. I so tire of her whining when they break from her "playing,"" she said coldly. Darkness sat behind her deep blue eyes as she mused over the thought of her daughter's fun.
"Yes, I hope so as well; the last one, he lasted, but one night did he not?" Said the gentleman, somewhat amused. He seemed to find his daughters fun entertaining and would often observe the events himself. As his wife was about to respond, a neighing could be heard, and the carriages came to a stop. "Seems we've arrived." He said.
***
"We are here." The young woman said. I nervously stood, nearly stumbling as we exited the carriage. After emerging, I saw a massive mansion lit brightly against the late evening sky.
“That was a much further trip than expected, my lady.” I was exhausted from such a long ride; who knew sitting still could be so tiring. "I need to be back before dawn; I have much to do tomorrow. Is that likely to happen?"
"Not to worry, as soon as the ball concludes, I will send you off in a carriage, with payment, of course." She said, like it was an afterthought.
Somewhat placated with her response, I glanced at the passengers of the other carriages exit and noticed an older, well-groomed gentleman. He was with a beautiful woman who must be the mother of the noblewoman I rode with, judging by the apparent similarities. I realized that I did not even know the young noblewoman's name; I make it a point to politely ask it. From the middle cart exited another woman, this one far older and frailer looking, white hair where I assumed blonde once was.
"First, we will dine, then we will attend the ball to be held later this eve." Said the young beauty.
"Of course, my lady, may I ask what I shall call you at the ball?" I said in a bow, using the little charm I had to cover that I didn't know her name. I hoped, I, of course, failed miserably, but the lady was too classy to point it out.
"I am Baroness Julia Von Tinslan, there," she said, gesturing to her family. "Is my father Duke Marcus Von Tinslan and mother Lady Yvette Von Tinslan, and finally, my grandmother is Lady Ginovia Von Tinslan." She said, introducing the entire entourage to Alex in one go. "Address us by our full names and titles or our titles and full last names only, do not shorten them as commoners tend to." Faint darkness hinting in her eyes, threatening to taint the sapphires that initially enthralled me. This happened when she said the last part, showing she was very serious.
I responded nervously, "Y-Yes, my lady," nearly shuddering from the encounter. This drew a giggle from the Baroness.
As we entered the mansion, several butlers and maids greeted us, each giving me a dark look. I assumed this was because I was just an adornment for the lady and was not seen as a person. I would be proven mostly right.
"The evening meal is already prepared, milord." Stated the head butler to the Duke. He simply nodded and walked off; the rest of the family followed, Julia gesturing to Alex that he should follow as well.
When I entered the dining hall, I saw a table far too large for a family this size (There have to be at least thirty seats.), I thought. The meal that was served also seemed rather excessive for the five dining here.
As I observed the noble family being seated by the staff, waiting for my turn, I was sat last. Still, I did not find this odd; what I found strange was I was sitting at the other end of this massive table, far removed from everyone else.
After the relatively quiet and very uncomfortable meal filled with glances from the family and staff alike, the older members excused themselves one by one. After a while, it was only Julia and I remaining.
Finally, after some more uncomfortable silence, Julia stood and walked over to me. When she stood, several staff members swarmed the table and cleared it with precision and speed, including the half-finished plate in front of me.
"Now, shall we prepare?" she said, looking me up and down. "Can't have you attend a nobles ball in that, now can we?" She gestured that I should follow her.
After what seemed like an eternity of dimly lit halls and winding corridors, they arrived at an uninspiring wooden door bound in iron.
(A bit different door from the extravagant ones so far) I thought, but who was I to judge the tastes of nobles.
“In here is the guest wardrobe, within we shall find many suits, I am sure we shall find one that fits you,” she stated.
She gestured to the door as if telling me to open it. I looked at the door; for some reason, it gave me the chills, and I felt like I did not want to go in there no matter what.
"Go on then," she said behind me. I figured I was just being ridiculous. Swallowing hard, I reached for the unnervingly cold handle. I swore it even had some frost on its edges, likely just a trick of my mind, though. Slowly opening the creaking door, I was greeted with a horrific sight that was definitely no wardrobe. No, this was no wardrobe at all. First to hit my senses was the foul odor, one that threatened to overwhelm my nostrils and could only be described as rot and death. That smell was terrible on its own; however, what I saw was far worse. The walls stained red and were moist, almost dripping, rusting chains hung from them, bolted in place. A table filled with rusted and red-stained tools, which had no logical use other than to inflict pain, sat like a morbid centerpiece in the horrific chamber. "What is thi…" I started to say, but with a thud, I was assailed from behind. I felt pain, and then the floor, then nothingness.