The strange rumbling made Timidus open his eyes.

While lying on the dirty stone floor, he liked to pretend to be asleep. That way, no one would bother him with questions they knew he wouldn't answer. He was as loyal to his new family as his survival allowed. The conversation with the princess, he had decided, fell under the latter. In his eyes, Diane Hunster was a cute little hypocrite. The will to live is present in everyone, yet she chose to pretend otherwise. Fighting for others? That was nothing but a bag full of lies in his eyes. A king, indeed, needs peasants to rule over. The more they suffer, the easier it is for them to find a hero. And a good king knows just how much saving they need. So, maybe he was right. Deep down, like everyone else, Diane probably felt the need to keep her flesh intact. He liked the way she was able to convince herself that she was living for the masses.

Her flesh might be in place, but her mind isn't.

Timidus smiled at the thought of her ending up like her uncle: locked up in a castle on a mountain. They said he heard voices. She certainly did as well. Anyhow, after the rumbling had continued, he rose his head a bit. Next was his back, then his knees. Standing up, he was still unable to determine just where the sound was coming from. There were two guards in front of his cell, both refusing to talk to him. They called it the protection of the soul, but he knew better than to believe their empty words. They were as sick of him as he was of them. The silent agreement made him somewhat at ease. But the sound kept interrupting his thoughts. He was very angry because of it.

"Who, in the name of the Skies, dares interrupt my rest?!" he yelled.

We tend to do stupid things when we think we are alone.

"Timidus," the sound had suddenly turned into words, "do you wish to tell me something?"

There was no room for doubt. It was Him. Timidus was able to recognize the voice of his nightmares without hesitation. His tone was so calm and peaceful yet freezing and horrifying. Like the dead themselves had decided to leave their forever and make him pay for his wrongs. And there were very many of them.

"Your Majesty," Timidus stuttered, "what do I owe this pleasure?"

He was still unable to see Him. The strong presence filled the space around the Traitor, encouraging his scared mind. No one played games quite as viciously as the saddest man in the world.

As his king decided to stay silent, Timidus asked: "May I ask His Majesty a question?"

In a relaxed manner, Void appeared before the guards. They bowed slightly, removing the forcefield and enabling him to enter Timidus's cell.

"You may only answer."

Timidus fell on his knees. "As you wish, my king!"

The Traitor felt cold fingers wrap around his neck. The rough skin made his own itch.

"You know," Void said, "I had quite a bit of faith in you."

Leaving his place, the King of the Unfortunate slowly moved towards the back of the cell. With a swift motion of His hand, He signalized the guards to leave them alone. As one of them passed in front of Timidus's eyes, he realized that the uniforms they were wearing weren't the ones of Crystalian soldiers. He smiled to himself. Demons truly were vicious creatures.

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"Your betrayal wasn't what angered me, Timidus," Void continued. He knelt before the poor man, raising Tmidus's head so he could look into His calm, bloody eyes. "Are you scared of her more than you are scared of me?"

"N-No!" the peasant stuttered.

Void smiled. "I think you are."

"Your Highness..."

"No, Timidus. I am not a man of mercy. You should know that very well." He gently stroked the badly dyed hair, His fingers getting lost in the pile of lies that had accumulated on top of Timidus's head. "But, I am willing to make your punishment fast and painless, if you only tell me where I can find the Judge. I have never had the pleasure of meeting her.”

Timidus swallowed a huge lump. "And if I don’t tell you?”

Void groaned with dissatisfaction. The ceiling started shaking with the power of His restlessness, dust, and stones falling into the cursed cell. "You will rot either way." He grabbed His servant's hair, plucking it out like weeds.

Once a coward, always a traitor. “It’s the maid,” he said. “Her name is Elaine. She is princess Naisa’s personal maid.”

Void's eyes twitched. He let go of Timidus's hair, giving him hope he didn't deserve.

"But why are you doing all this?! Everything has been planned out for you, so you could rule the world! The only thing you need to do is follow their lead and they will make you the king of everything!" the Traitor yelled frantically, thinking that his king had decided to give him a second chance. His facial muscles twitched with horror; clothes soaked in smelly fear.

But Void remained calm. No misery in the world could make His heart ache, for no misery was greater than His. He retreated to the back of the cell once more, playing with the knife in His hand. His thoughts filled the small space, making His head hurt. Memories, vividly painful, reminded him of the person he used to be, one much greener, less cruel, and full of desperate enthusiasm. “Because they promised me the Will. And now it’s gone. Now that you're dead, I can tell you: Clara Heal is a wicked person. You never know when she will decide to abandon you for her own selfish gain. Just how she abandoned Diane.”

“But Diane Hunster has so much to lose now! You just need to be a little patient and then…”

"Graceful, Timidus. You're always so graceful."

No one heard the knife dirty the old, damp walls. The underground prison served its purpose once more. People kept walking, freezing in the cold air that January brought along. The structure might have as well been a stone wall separating the passers-by from the other side. For all the souls resting in the mold, they were the crystals in dirty puddles. To Him, they were ants swimming in the blood of their kind. He hated them all, from the bottom of His heart.

He turned Timidus's body to lie on his stomach and whispered: "Watch your tongue. It might leave you drowning in blood."

Emotionless, He exited the cell that smelled of death. Walking through the quiet corridors, the only living thing He had passed by was a mouse feeding off the rotten flesh. But He noticed nothing but the smell of lilies.

Rose was standing by the entrance; she still had traces of his hands allover her body. He was not happy with how their most important task turned out. “Did you do it?” she asked Him.

“What do you think?”

She nodded. “So…”

“So.”

“So, it’s Maria now?”

“Yes.”

“This is it, then.”

“It is.”

“The beginning of her end.”

He narrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her with disgust. “Why do I sense sadness in your voice.”

She put her hand on her bicep and lowered her head. “I don’t know.”

“Do I need to remind you what…”

“No.”

“Good. Then be careful, Rose. This is what we have been waiting for all our lives.”

She just nodded. She couldn’t remember the last time He felt like home. She had promised to follow Him to the depths of Hell, but didn’t expect Him to take it so literally.

Under the blinding light of the magic stones, He could see golden roots creeping from under all that red. “You should dye your hair.”

“I will. When we get back.”

He smiled. “Good girl. You know I love you, don’t you.”

She just nodded. He put his hand on her head and, with more angst than anticipation, said, “Let us become Gods, Meredith.”