"James, son of Harold, son of Winifred-"

        "NO, PLEASE STOP!"

        "For the grievous crime of murder upon your mentor, the village has sentenced you to be banished from this realm."

        "M-MOTHER, MAKE HIM STOP!"

        "Your prison lies within this book, what lies beyond a realm of darkness and horrors befitting of your poisoned heart."

        "JAMES, J-JAMES TELL THEM, THAT'S NOT TRUE, YOU DIDN'T DO IT!"

        "By the powers vested in me, you shall never return to your home again.  Your memory shall be gone, and your name will cease to exist for the disgrace you have brought upon it."

        "NO, B-BROTHER PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME!"

        "Send him through!"

        "JAMES!  BROTHER, NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

        "H-hhhhh...ughh.  Bastard."

His eyes opened like a stone crypt.  His mind burned with a rancid guilt that mirrored the festering in his heart as he pulled free from the sheets.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, forgetting which foot to use first and being punished with a spasm through his knee that sent him falling against the end table.  He grabbed for a bronze cane stood resting against the wall. supporting himself as he hobbled over to the desk with a mirror in front of it.

        "Good...morning.  Or good night, I suppose."

The face of a lemming stared back at him, haggard with long body that deceived his stature of 5'0'', hunched forwards to almost press his blunt snout against the glass.  His once-brilliant green hair was now a sickly hue, the curls unravellled to hang like dead serpents.  His eyes burned into himself, dark sclera wider than the celadon pupils that had now sunken deep as he drew his finger down the centre of his face.  He sat himself down and pulled out a faded book from the drawer, a quill from an inkpot he kept separate as he licked the feathered tip.

24th Lemhain, Year 34 AF

The day has come again, and with it the same dream of fear and sufferance that marks the anniversary of my banishment to this desolate place.  Much against my will, my mind desires such self-flagellation that I am helpless before the nightmare that consumes my sleep.  No, a nightmare would give too much credit, for a nightmare does not exist, never was and never will be.  This is but a memory, for the day my life ended.

Some days I am thankful that others exist in this realm.  I understand them, even if some of them do not give me peace, ransoming my life for imaginary slights that would soothe their bloodlust for a moment, the murderous narcotic of adrenaline they have poisoned themselves with.

But on those days I am thankful to not be alone, for if I were trapped upon an island with not another soul, I would face my worst enemy.  But then other days come when I wish I had chosen death.  Every night that I suffer that dream, I consider death by my own hand.  Every morning I fall short in my cowardice.  Perhaps one day I will.  But not this night.

        "Nnngh," he rubbed his eyes, "wish I could sleep in."

Cripple your leg proper, then you can sleep all you want.

        "Don't."

He cradled his face as he looked to the mirror.

        "Don't...make this harder than it already is."

Closing his book he put his things back in the drawer, pulling himself out of his chair and taking the cane as he surveyed his surroundings briefly.  A former dungeon now tiffted with a bed and a desk, claustrophobic walls of stone as he grabbed his robes, a satchel and cane from his bedpost along with a pair of thick shoes.

        "Wonder if they'll celebrate this day with me."

What celebration exists in this place?

        "I...I-i don't know."

The only celebration would be for your death.

        "Sh-shut, UP!"

He slammd his fist against the door which shuddered in protest, forcing it open with a long creak as he stepped into the halls of frigid subterrane.  Lanterns struggled to repel the cold as James hobbled his way through the servants' quarters, the sounds of slumber from other rooms, words of dark utterance trembling behind oaken doors as his staff tapped over the stone with a sharp rap echoing to the end of the path.  A large set of doors awaited him that he opened to embrace the seething rime, the arctic roar that burned at his cheeks and tore his eyes thin as he stepped outside.  His cloak rippled behind him with silver trails in the shriek of night, the light of day a mountain's width beyond as he stared above at his home and prison.  A castle, robed in white like a mourning bride.

The cold braced against his body that felt frail as a corpse, yet he felt nothing of its teeth, no shiver through his bones as he dug his cane hard into the earth to push himself along the rocky footpath that twisted upwards.  The castle above him howled with its sharp circular towers, swords of ice hanging perilous over his head as voices whispered from the cliff beyond its base.  The front door stood awaiting, but instead he walked the opposite path to where several statues of purest marble littered the courtyard.  A grand portcullis to the south that remained closed as stone-faced nobles judged him in passing, silent withering disdain as he stepped into a square alcove.

        "Alrigh' Jim!"

A voice beckoned from inside as he found a hooded figure scrubbing the floor.

        "Just outta bed?"

        "Hahaaah yes," he rubbed his head forcing a grin, "I need to go up, sorry for the mess."

        "Naw is fine," his cockney accent rasped his ears, "hardly a flue faker you just git up there I'll join ya to fan the books."

The floor suddenly moved when he stood at its centre, the shudder of gears sending them upwards as James took a deep breath and looked to the man still scrubbing with damp cloth.  He never saw his face, a single gleaming eye from a green cloak with the arms of a spinster thin and reedy.

        "How's the weather ou' there?"

        "Pale as death," he shrugged.

        "Awww an' here I woz, thinkin' to prig a prad an' bolt out sunwards fer a bit."

        "How, the portcullis is closed!"

        "Still got me 'ands Jim, I wozn't a screwsman fer nothin', tell ya wot it's real 'andy fer the cleanin'."

        "Hahah, maybe you should have joined the circus!"

        "An' work fer peanuts, BAH!" he swung his gangly arm.  "Circus folk are all trassenos, that's why they're banned from the city!"

        "Really?"  James looked up at the elevator shaft.  "Well the city's finally won the award for Most Depressing Hellscape In History."

        "HAH, hhhhahahaha, wot sorta award is that?!"

        "One the city worked very hard for and I think we should all respect its dedication to being miserable, it's very hard being the worst city in existence it takes a LOT of craft to be-"

        "PFFFFT hhheeheeheehehehahaha, awww yer a righ' crackup Jim!" the cleaner slapped his knee.  "Ere you up fer sum cards later?"

Why would anyone play with you?

        "Just been a bit since I seen yer 'ands, wanna give the folks a scare!"

His pity is wasted on you.

        "If I have no other duties," James nodded, "I would be glad to Horsham."

        "Hahaaa noice!"

The elevator stopped as they stepped out into a grand magnificent library.  Every wall was covered in books, the smell of rich paper flooding his nostrils with warm relief to his senses as he rubbed his arms fiercely to warm up, whilst Horsham scampered behind to fall on his hands and knees.

        "Cor this place is somethin' eh?" said the cleaner rubbing away.  "You managed to read every book in this place?"

        "Not yet," James looked back with a knowing wink, "one day I will and I shall tell you what I learn."

        "That'd make you the most downy cove who ever walked this place!"

        "Still won't make me better at cards though will it hahah-"

        "Stop, chattering."

A voice colder than night seethed from the hall as they stiffened to attention.

        "It has been four years and still you cannot arrive on the dot."

A knight stood elegant with long greaves and armour like ashen bone, his head covered by an eyeless helm with silver hair flowing down his neck to touch the ebony cape that hung off his shoulder.

        "Forgive me sire," James bowed, "I cannot excuse my latene-"

        "You are not late."  He slipped a pocket watch from his folds.  "You are early.  You have cut something from your schedule, something of import that would assist your efficacy."

        "I woke earlier than usual, a nightmare haunted me-"

        "I do not care for your sleep-rambling."  He snapped his watch shut and loomed over the lemming.  "Time is a cruel mistress, and when one does not respect it, it will punish you far worse than I could hope."

You deserve worse than that.

        "Yes, sire."  James bowed even lower.  "Thank you for your patience."

With a sneer beneath his helm the guard walked out to the library's main entrance and onto the ramparts of the castle covered in frost.

        "Sir Crow's always stickin' it in yer craw," muttered Horsham still scrubbing.

        "I do not mind," James shook his head, "he's only flaunting his authority to keep me in check."

        "Seems he's just tryin' to 'old a candle to a devil, course 'e can just chat with them gargoyles out there."

        "They make better friends than him, at least they can smile."

        "PFFFT, hhheeeheeheh, ohoh don' let 'im 'ear ya say that."

        "Mum's the word, yes?"

James tapped his prominent snout and went deeper into the library, his smile disappearing the further he walked as he stepped into a small space just behind one of the bookcases.  Taking a small key from his robe to fit in a near-invisible hole, the lemming opened a slat where a large severe-looking book sat in its nook, filled with numbers and titles as he heaved it out to the table already covered in volumes.

        "Alright, let's see," he examined each book on the table, "that one goes into historical fiction...this one is science...this iiis...hmmmmm, is this science or sanguine?  The language is academic but the context is...mmmm I will put this in sanguine for now, would rather not pester Crow about this."

Scribbling the books down in the notary, the lemming went round the library to put the new volumes in their proper place.  Chairs and candles would line the centre of the hall with portable stairs for each section, three floors stretching above his head with even more tomes stuffed into shelves of various categories.  The third and second floor had other residents of the castle, servants and nobles ruminating in their thoughts as James felt out of place amongst them.  Every resident was human, and for the most part taller than him as he kept his head down and shuffled between shelves.

        "Boy!"

A woman with powdered wig and and a white cliff for a face snapped her fingers.

        "I require the Studies of Ephraim, do deliver it to me now."

        "Yes madame," he bowed, "anything else?"

        "Mmmmyeeeees actually, a good romance fiction too, something audacious but not sordid."

        "...yes, understood madame."

He walked behind a shelf and forced a scream inside his stomach, clenching his fists and twisting his cane with a shudder through his skull before he stood back up with exhausted sigh and went to retrieve the books requested.  Others would ask him of the same as he hurried around the library, taking books and putting them back once the visitors were done reading.  He passed by the windows that rattled from the fierce sleet, battering against the latticed glass with a shriek as he stared out towards the city in the distance, a myriad of burning lights beyond his reach as he slumped against the windowsill.

        "Better here than that cursed place."

You deserve neither.

        "What do I deserve then?"

Death.  But even that is a kindness for you.

        "Hmm...how should I die then?"

Painfully.  Every minute for every month you existed.

        "What if...this is actually the afterlife?"

He slumped further pushing his snout against the glass.

        "What if I did die and this...is where my soul ended?"

Then life is better for it.  You worthless unrepentant abortion.

He dragged his fingers through his hair and shivered with a sob, the words in his mind twisting the blade as he buried his head into his sleeves.  None would speak to him, some even passing him by with a brush of the cloak as he wept in grief.  He felt something dangle from his chest, a small pendant that now became a weight to crush his heart, and sink him to despair.

        "Boy."

A ragged voice spoke haughty beside him.

        "BOY!"

        "UH, yes!"  He wiped his tears quick before turning to the voice.  "Can I help you, Tristan?"

        "You can take your damned letters and let me do my job."

A black-cloaked servant with a sackful of mail thrust one at his face.

        "I have to be at the western wing in six minutes and forty-three seconds, or else Sir Crow will have my scrotum for his baldric."

        "Yes, s-sorry thank you."

The mailman dragged his deliveries behind him on his back, the lemming wiping his eyes again as he opened the letter addressed to him.  The splotched ink he recognised almost immediate, scanning over the lines and sighing with relief as he headed up to the third floor to search for a white-gowned noblewoman of deep black hair scribbling in her ledger.

        "Madame Asquith, may I have a moment of your time?"

        "You may."  She looked up showing a bandage over one eye.  "What need have you?"

        "A contact of mine from the city has discovered two volumes of the Sanctorum Undine."

        "The...S-sanctorum?!" she clutched herself.  "Are you certain?!"

        "My contact has never failed," he said bowing, "I have the funds necessary to pay-"

        "No no, no."

Asquith waved her finger and pulled out a wallet from the desk.

        "I cannot risk you being bought out, we must have those volumes, take extra."

        "Oh, th-thank you-"

        "But ONLY for the Sanctorums, anything else comes out of your pocket."

        "Understood madame," James took the wallet that contained paper notes and a lustrous badge.  "I have categorised half the volumes left out today, I will finish them when I return-"

        "That is the least of your priority," she waved her hand, "go, return directly to me with my wallet once you retrieve the books."

        "Yes Madame Asquith."

Heading back to the elevator, he stepped out into the courtyard where the blistering freeze met him once again as his cloak ruffled around his knees.  Around the castle walls he walked to a stable sheltered from the wind, a well-kept place where the straw was always clean and the horses stood prim in their stalls like soldiers in waiting.

        "Ahh James," a sinewy woman with a face like a leather glove stood beside them, "here for today's errands?"

        "Yes Ms. Burnquist," he nodded producing his badge, "I have orders to obtain some books from the city."

        "Well, your friend is here as always."

James had never seen a horse until coming to this world, tall stridant beasts with long studious heads and luscious tails with sharp thick hooves and intelligent eyes, their bodies so black with such fine hair that they shone blue in the light.  But one horse was different, kept apart from the rest with a dull brown coat and a white snout, somewhat shorter than the other steeds.

        "Hello there," the lemming stepped up to stroke his face, "had a good sleep?"

The horse snickered and sniffed over James' hair to make him smile.

        "Surprising he obeys you," said Burnquist strolling up, "not what I expect from a half-breed-"

        "Do not call him that," he turned clenching his teeth, "Travers is a good friend and has never failed me."

        "Doesn't change the fact he's but a mule, long as I say anything in a soft voice he'll do what I wish, isn't that right my didikko?"

She fawned with simpering voice as she rubbed his stiffened mane.

        "I would appreciate if your words for him were the same as for others," James scowled.

        "If that was the case then we'd all be nobles," Burnquist sneered.  "But you are not, nor is he, you both fit each other with your common blood."

        "I am NOT common, I was a scribe in my home-"

        "And also a murderer, that is beneath common."

        "And this castle is not stained with blood?" James pointed to the rafters.  "Is the crown so above itself it has never slain another, talisman knows how steeped in red that throne is-GUH!"

He staggered back from a vicious slap across the face, making Travers snort with a soft whinny of fright as Burnquist produced a horse-whip she put under James' chin.

        "I am well-skilled at breaking arrant half-breeds into servitude."

        "A-aagh!"

        "Considering you are not even human, you would do well to never speak ill of our Majesty, unless you desire to be hunted like a beast."

She opened the stall for the mule as James took up his saddle, clambering on with a struggle for his size and leading Travers out into the wintry wastes.  The portcullis opened as a long bridge led towards the city of lights

        "HYAH!"

Galloping with formal pace, the stallion tore across the snow as his sturdy hooves crunched into the cobblestones as they slanted their eyes against the storm.  The path from the castle slowly turned down the mountain with serpentine grace, the biting hail soon fading from their backs as they reached the base to where another bridge travelled over the sea, the churning of the ocean waves leaving a rancid wash under their feet as Travers soon came to the central path.

        "Alright...worst part of it's over right?"

James patted the horse who snorted in agreement.

        "We can take it slow, just catch your breath.  We'll need it if we have to run from thieves."

The mule snickered with a twitch of his head as James motioned him onwards, snapping the reins lightly to encourage him at a swift but gentle trot.

Giant tombstones littered the path before them, old forgotten names scoured from existence by savage claws of unknown beasts.  Ancient windmills sat upon the hills, creaking in a foetid wind that made him turn sick from the stench of detritus the closer he came to the city.  Passing through a small village he saw women toiling in the fields, the sounds of hammering steel and grinding stone ringing from the houses.  None spoke to him, their heads bowed with eyes darting behind him as he approached the forest.

The woods were quiet, almost holding its breath for the lemming to approach beneath its gnarled twisted trees that almost seemed to follow him, with hands of brittle branch and jagged limb as Travers snorted with unease.  The horse picked up his pace, finding the path that was easiest to manage and cantering briskly through the dark glade where he hopped over desiccated roots and barren patches.  Something shrieked in the distance, too close for them as James pulled on the horse's reins to keep him from bolting.

        "No no, no...that's what they want us to do, stay calm Travers."

The mule whinnied in protest as James patted him.

        "It's alright, I'll keep you safe, just get to the city."

Better you die than him.

He clenched his eyes with a heavy breath as they passed through the forest, the grand city of his purgatory revealing itself as he pulled out a cloth from his satchel and wrapped it round his face to hide his prominent snout.  A monstrous gothic vista awaited them with old cathedrals, sharp vicious parapets like spears of soldiers bracing for war.  The hill before its entrance gave James a good look at the sky unfettered, the sun a sickly amber to the west, and the moon like quicksilver to the east that trapped the world in eternal dusk.  Beneath the chapels were Victorian buildings, cobbled streets packed with doors and windows where lanterns sat beside barely lighting the path.

Humans wandered through the streets in cracked leather shoes and vests draped with sweat, some with horses, some with curs mangy and emaciated that snapped their teeth at anything coming close.  The smell of pollution turned thick in James' nostrils, a stench he acclimatised to with eyes peering from windows and doors creaking shut.

        "THE HUNT IS ON!"

        "HUNT THE BEAST, HUNT THE BEAST!"

A gaggle of children came running past, one dressed in the skin of a wolf as the others chased with wooden swords and guns.

        "YER NOT WANTED HERE!"

        "THIS IS ALL YER FAULT!"

        "KILL THE BEAST, KILL IT!"

They cackled with vapid glee, even the one being hunted as they darted down an alley where a piercing scream could be heard amidst their laughter.

        "Alright," James rolled his eyes, "seventy-three, Thatcher's Lane."

Trotting on he found the central market, denizens selling various fruits and veg with the odd trinket in store from old weathered brooches to an assortment of knives that glimmered in the dark sunset.  A large square with a bonfire was being set up, a giant cross at its centre as James cringed turning away with Travers starting to twitch from the smouldering torches.

        "Don't worry," said the lemming patting him, "we're not here for long, just hold fast for me."

The stallion snickered shaking his head, but relented with ears drooping as he cantered down the lane towards an auspicious complex behind a severe set of gates that he turned left of and down to a cul-de-sac.  A shop stood at the corner with its light unlit, old books piled up at its front window as he dismounted.

        "Wait here," he motioned to Travers, "I'll be back shortly."

The horse twitched his ears with a nervous stomp as the masked lemming entered the shop, the smell of musty paper filling his nose with a shudder in his breast.

        "OH, master James, 'ere yer right on time!"

A woman's voice of cockney lang came from the back of the cluttered tattered volumes forming towers that James struggled to slide through.

        "H-hello Beth, n-nnngh, how are things?!"

        "Quite good thanks!" a ragged hood lumbered towards the till.  "You come fer the orders?!"

        "Yes," he sucked in his gut watching the pillars of paper tilt, "you, r-really should clean up this place!"

        "Wot it's cozy, people love it!"

        "The four or five people who bother to come to this little nook!"

        "An' you're one of 'em arentcha?!"

Staggering to the counter he faced the portly woman who ran the place, a pale face of chubby cheeks covered in dust down her pinafore as she hoisted up two books of illustrious blue.

        "Eeeere you are, sum fine reams 'ere, wuz a righ' griddling to get these bastards."

        "Incredible," James stroked along the covers, "such craftslemship, what sort of tinting was this?"

        "By my reckon considerin' where it came it musta been ground-up gravneys, lotta fingers went into craftin' this, in more ways than one!"

        "Indeed."  James pulled up his wallet.  "How  is business by the way?"

        "Quite good, quite good!" Beth gathered her coins into the till.  "Hunt's comin' up soon, wan' me to save ya a seat?"

        "No thank you."  He put the books into his satchel.  "I would rather not be easily mistaken for prey."

        "Now don' say that master James, you might be a li'l long in the snout but yer as human as me!"

        "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

        "Oi, cheeky bugger!" she swiped for his head as he chuckled backing off.  "Seen that new clinic along the way?"

        "I was wondering about that," he looked to the window, "did that just open?"

        "Ohohhh yes, just got opened, the church makin' good on 'elpin' out!"

        "That is good, especially for you, you only have to cross the bridge."

        "Righ' there master James," she tittered patting her chest, "actually the lady from the clinic came round 'ere just two days back."

        "Oh what was she like?"

        "Lovely, very caring, sweet as honey, quite young too or looked like it, looked young enough to be my daughter!  Bit sad though, but then I suppose in that business they'd all be."

        "I cannot imagine the stress one must go through as a medic," James shook his head.

        "Too right, real frontline heroes they are, only thing keeping us from the plague."  She snorted wiping her nose with her sleeve.  "You inoculated yet?"

        "I am," James clutched his arm as an old pain throbbed, "my employers gave me special treatment."

        "Thas good, well if yer not gonna be at the Hunt you best clear off soon."

        "I don't understand it honestly," he stepped back towards the door, "to cleanse the city of beasts yes but to make it a festival is rather sickeni-"

        "Shhh!" she put a finger to her lips.  "Don't let the church 'ear that kinda chatter, s'important to the city to keep the beasts out an' get everyone involved!"

        "I know I just...wish there was more professionalism rather than whipping the populace into a frenzy, something more humane."

        "Beasts don't deserve humane, you musta seen the bastards slinkin' round up from the ol' city!"

        "A few times but, I never bother them if they never bother me."

        "An' if they do?" she leaned forwards creaking the desk.  "One scratch is all it takes fer you to go mad an' turn into one yerself!"

        "Then I defend myself," he tapped his cane twisting the head, "but only then, and not before."

        "Keep actin' like that an' yer master's gonna need a new librarian!" Beth shook her head.  "In this world it's hunt or be hunted, an' I'd really not prefer you be hunted like them filth deserve!"

        "Is that why you keep doing service with us?" James grinned showing his badge.  "You know you are in just as much trouble as I am consorting with our group, we both have reasons not to draw eyes from the church."

        "That's why you keep yer mouf shut an' your wallet open!"  She waggled her finger with a wide smirk of yellow teeth.  "Now I'm still searchin' fer the other three, one of those I managed to buy off a tomb-digger-"

        "Enough!"  He backed off quick almost knocking over some books.  "I said before I do not want to know where you get these!"

        "Alrigh' alrigh', wot you never been on a caper, s'not as flummut as you think!"

        "The less I know the better."  He gave a curtsy slinking back to the door.  "Thank you again, have a good day."

        "I wish!" she cackled waving him off.  "Ta-ta master James, don't let the bedwolves bite!"

        "And you Beth."

Heading out the shop he leapt back onto Travers who visibly sighed with relief as James led him back, struggling to resist the urge to gallop as his rider kept him steady, passing through the square with its awaiting bonfire as James saw several figures in white robes and immediately covered his head.  His mask obscured his face, but still he shrunk back against his horse who picked up the pace sensing his rider's anxiety as he cantered swiftly back to the forest.

        "Thank you Travers," he muttered in his ear, "the less we see of those folk the better."

With a gallop they headed back up the lane to where the castle stood gowned in frost.  The roaring blizzard remained shrouding the fort as the cold filled their lungs the moment they crossed over the bridge, chuntering up the mountain and returning to the stable.

        "Thank you again," James kissed the horse's head after dismounting, "I shall see you tomorrow, alright?"

The horse sniffed his face with a gentle nuzzle, sighing as the lemming departed back to the library to find Horsham again barely ten feet from where he started.

        "Still scrubbing away?" he asked.

        "Too righ;" the servant gasped, "this place is soddin' huge, good thing me coldbloods keep me feisty!"

        "Are you short on them?  I have some to spare-"

        "Nah nah keep 'em, s'all good Jim...heh, hhhhehehehehe-"

        "What?"

        "Just rememberin' first time you 'ad one of 'em, yer heart almost stopped, thought we'd hafta put ya out over the cliff!"

        "Hah, well...I never expected it to be so...solid."

        "Well least it keeps the chill out of ya dunnit?!"  He waved him off.  "See ya after fer sum cards?"

Don't bother.

        "I will," James nodded, "but do not wait on me if I am late!"

Their night will be happier without you, do not torture them with your presence.

        "Noice, can't wait to see yer inky 'ands!"

His pity hides his disgust.

James clenched his spine from the invading voice, heading up to the second floor where he found Asquith with several other servants picking up shards from a broken window, the night wind tearing into the room with a gasping shriek.

        "Madame, I have the books-"

        "Excellent, take it to her Majesty."

        "Wh-what?"

        "A gargoyle caught the wind and defenestrated can't you see?!"  She pointed at the glass.  "I have to replace the window, take the books to her Majesty, keep my badge so the guards let you through and then return it to me."

        "Y-yes...madame."

A shudder ran through his soul as he braced himself, taking the highest door of the library to find himself upon the roof.  A passageway had been carved into the slats, the vile winds clutching his face and gouging the skin as he stepped carefully across the upper ramparts, following them to a lonesome tower that stood peerless above the world.  At the end of the great manor's peak, the long path between slatted roofs led him to a set of doors where two guards stood in waiting, dressed in the finest armour with dreadsome spears.

        "Halt."

James produced the badge of the royals as they accepted him inside, opening the doors to where a long dark stair went straight up above him to ascend to the heavens.

Why are you afraid?

He clutched his head again.

If more suffering comes to you, then all the better you earn it.

        "N-n-no, NO I didn't want to see her today-"

If you did not want to suffer, you should have ended it sooner.

        "N-no...he..."  He felt for something round his neck.  "H-he wouldn't want me to."

Do not mock him with such whimpering.  Why would he wait for you, why should anyone still remember you?

        "H-he...he loved me."

And you rewarded him with grief.  Your mother was right to choose your father over you.

James struggled forth and choked through his heart, gasping back tears as he clenched his throat and pushed himself up the stairs with a limping shudder.  The smell of cold wax greeted him as he came upon a throne room, lauded with statues of bronze and marble where candles flickered upon the head of every man, woman, stallion and child.

        "Visitor.  Speak."  A chilling voice made the candles flicker.

        "I-it...it is I,, James," he bowed on his knee, "the librarian."

        "Approach."

The sound of his cane echoed through the hall before it touched the red carpet, a lustrous tongue of crimson beneath a moonlit window of stained glass rising tall with intricate symbols.  Below that sat a woman dressed in silver, upon a throne of resplendent gold.  The other throne was covered in webs, a single crown placed upon its back.

        "Kneel, and speak."

He knelt in reverence not even daring to look at her face.  A ghostly-pale woman with a sharp chin and long sultry hair of reddish brown.

        "I have brought you a gift, your Majesty," said the lemming.  "Two parts of the Sanctorum Undine, of which we are still tracking down the other three."

        "Truly?"  She tented her fingers.  "Hand them to me."

He dug them from his satchel and gave both books as she read through the first cover page of each.

        "Thy gift pleases us," she nodded, "the lore is rich as they said, its fine cursive worthy of our eyes."

        "I am glad to serve you," James kept himself bowed, "I would not have come myself, Madame Asquith was engaged in some necessary-"

        "Enough."  She closed the books and put them on the throne beside her.  "Excuse thine own body, not other minds."

        "Yes, my queen.  Shall I return to my duties?"

        "Yes...except."

He cringed at her smile.

        "Thou hast done a considerable service to our flock, dear James.  Our halls of knowledge hath been stocked formidably since thine induction, thou'rt should be rewarded."

        "I-i, oh, I am not worthy."

She offered her arm as he forced himself not to flinch.

        "To hunt down even one of the Undines under the auspices of that wretched church, tis no small feat."

        "I understand but, I am surely not worthy of your m-magnanimous gift-"

        "That was NOT an offer.  Drink.  Deep, of our blood."

        "...yes, your Majesty."

He offered his arm in turn, rolling up his sleeve to expose his once-supple skin, now hardened to a sickly pallour of white with black thinning cuts, a prisoner's tally forming a map of suffrage to the queen.  Her arm opened itself with a wound of dusted flesh, unearthing the crypt of dried blood that trickled down like cold cement.  Something bubbled and lurched within the viscous fluid, crawling with fingers like flies from a corpse as James shivered with impending fear, his mind returning back to the day he first arrived.

=============

        "What pitiful creature arrives at our door begging for scrap?" she said.

        "Your...M-majesty," his head kissed the floor, "my name is...James, I-i am an outcast, banished from my people.  I...c-c-came upon your castle, I throw myself at your feet f-for mercy, a place to stay, for warmth and food-"

        "An exile?  For what reason wert thee banished?"

        "Mur-...murder.  I murdered my mentor."

        "For what reason?"

        "I...I desired power."  He shuddered as the snow fell from his cloak.  "I was corrupted by a dark force rending me, driving me to madness."

        "Corrupted...hmm."  Her fingers tented.  "We are not of charity, our lineage did not reign for such foolish piety."

        "I-i, I offer my service!"  He whimpered throwing his hands at her feet.  "My hands, my body, I would give them to you, as a servant, j-just all I ask is warmth and food-"

        "Silence!"

A boot kicked his head causing him to fall to his side.

        "Her Majesty offers naught to a simpleton of such disfigured complexion."

        "Wh-what, I, I am not disfigured-"

        "SILENCE!"  The foot slammed into his head.  "You dare correct me with your common tongue?!"

        "Crow, cease."

Her hand raised towards him as he stepped back, the lemming sobbing quietly as she nodded to Crow who grabbed James by the hair and dragged him forth on his knees.

        "Thine offer is tempting," said the queen, "what skills doth thee possess?"

        "I-i am...was, a scribe."

        "Was?  Hath thine hands fallen off, or canst thou still scriven?"

        "I can still write yes, your Majesty."

        "Then why bleat like a wether?" she snickered putting a foot on his head.  "Take pride in thine work, I hath no need for those unindentured."

        "Then my hands are yours, my queen."  He pressed his forehead to the rug.  "I shall drip blood and ink from them at your behest, for whatever need you require as your servant."

        "Very well.  Prithee, offer thine arm and name to me."

        "James."  He raised his arm.  "James, formerly of the Lemming Isle."

        "Then swear to our clan."  She presented her arm as Crow stepped back.  "Dost thou stand against the church, and walk this path of blood in our shadow?"

        "Yes," James nodded, "I do, for the comfort of a bed, food and shelter, I will make your enemies mine and your allies mine too."

        "Hmhmhm...thy words please us, already such promise from a vassal of scripture."

Then he saw it.  The wound opening in her arm from which clouded red flew as her blood became slenderous worms that slithered down her wrist and stretched towards his body, forming threads of crimson between them.  When he tried to move back he felt the knight put his hand over his mouth, with shuddering gasps trembling through his cold steel fingers.

        "Mmmmph, MMMMRPH!"

        "Do not scream."

        "MMMMRRRRPH!"

        "One does not disturb a Queen's feast."

His eyes widened in shock as he felt her teeth, dull yet savage from the blood-worm cutting open his arm as Crow held it tight to force it still, the biting pluck, the separating skin as they buried into his veins like hornets.

        "MMMMMPH, MMMMMMMMMPH!

        "Feel the spreading burn," her Majesty hissed, "share in our grace, a gift for the few."

        "MM-MMMPH, MMMMMMMMMPH!"

His screams vibrated through the steel, sobbing tears from his pure eyes to stain his shining hair, glinting emerald beneath the candlelight.  Her blood seeped into his heart, his pupils darkening faint as his arm grew colder, the flesh turning pale around its gouging wound consumed by her crimson.  He collapsed when the guard released his body, once her Majesty pulled back with her arm closing again.

        "Excellent.  Thine contract be sealed, in rubricate."

James shuddered twitching on his side with heaving gasps.

        "Do not fight it.  Arrant fools fight, rather than bend."

        "H-HRRRRKH, HRRRRKH!"

A cancer in his heart devoured the flesh, stripping his warmth as cold fused to his walls and his tears returned with a whimpering sob.  For a moment it stopped beating, his eyes twitching with fright before it started pulsing again on a different beat.  One that was not his own as her venom spread through every artery.  Dry and frigid, festering in every vein as his skin turned whiter, a spider's web forming branches and trees under his skin, crackling around his eyes like frost before he finally passed out.

==================

        "It is done."

He stared at his arm with shivering gasp.

        "Thine ink remains fresh as ever, dear scribe."

        "H-haaaah...aaah...th-thank you, my queen, you are too kind."

        "Now take thy leave."  She waved her hand.  "We have much to ponder with our new lore."

He took his bow and departed, gripping his staff and hobbling back down the steps.  Stumbling out the doors and heading over the roof, the frigid air seeped into his scab as he stared upon his arm with its new deep cut.  Another month she marked, for as he partook in her blood, so too she partook in his.  His life for her undying reign, his innocence for her corruption.

        "...why am I here?"

He looked to the great mountains of the east.

        "Why...am I still here in this misery?"

Because you're a coward.

        "...yes."  James nodded.  "I...I cannot keep doing this, her blood...it hurts me, it's...killing me."

But not quick enough.  Take a stand for once in your worthless life.

        "I...I-i just...wish I could have taken it all back."

He slumped on the walkway between the towers, pressing his back to the ramparts as he struggled to weep from exhaustion.  Clutching his stomach the lemming rocked gently as he shook his head, thoughts of regret building up in him again.

        "Why?  Wh-why did...why didn't I listen to Haytham?"

You were an arrogant selfish brat.

        "I just, I just wanted to save my people, th-that was all I-"

You wanted to be a saviour, no matter who you killed.

        "...yes."  He clutched his staff.  "They must all think I'm some deranged murderer, someone obsessed."

They saw your madness for what it was, so did the chief.  He's told them all that you did, and what you said, including your little brother.

        "H-h-he...h-he..."

He slumped beneath the parapets of the twin towers.

        "I just wanted to save them,  from the darkness, I didn't want to leave our home."

A home can be rebuilt, not their lives or your dignity.

        "AND WHAT THEN?!" he pounded the stone.  "So we move to another isle, and the darkness comes again in another forty years?!"

The darkness will take them now because you failed.  You've disgraced your name, you've disgraced your family, they won't even leave a grave for you.

        "I...I did.  I've failed."

He stared at his hands to see the fading cracks.

        "I've tried to deny it all these years in this wretched place."

This realm doesn't care about you.  No one does, your family will deny your existence just as your mother denied your father's ways.

        "She...sh-she would, wouldn't she?  It just happens again, doesn't it?"

Your brother's forgotten you, Oddclaw and Chanoch too, they never speak of you again.

        "Why...would they?"  James sighed.  "I only ever came in passing, they've known hundreds of other beasts far better than me, and much less troublesome."

And now you trouble these folk.  They already have enough to suffer with, why make this realm worse for your existence?

        "...yes."

He limped over to the next tower as the tiles clacked under his feet, the snow drifting off the roof as he stepped closer to the edge.  The sharp walls beneath were covered in ice, the jagged rocks at the base of the mountain where the ocean beyond stretched into the mist.  The sun shone on his back, the moon upon his face.

Do it.

His toes twitched closer.

End it once and for all.

His legs braced for the leap.

Stop being a coward and do something RIGHT for once, you WORTHLESS SCUM!

He closed his eyes with tears down his cheeks, stepping forwards and opening his arms.

        "JIM!"

        "G-GUH, AAAGH!"

He grabbed for the parapet and stumbled back with a shudder, crying out before he felt someone's hands pull him back.

        "WOA-WOAH WOAH JIM, JIM 'ANG ON!"

        "A-AAAAGH!"

The lemming stumbled crumpling onto the roof, landing on top of his saviour who wheezed patting his chest.

        "G-good...job mate, crushin' out me lungs 'ere."

        "O-OH, HORSHAM I WAS, OHH!"" he rolled off and quickly checked over him.  "I am SO sorry are you alright?!"

        "No worries, KHH-KHHGHH!"  He stood up clutching his ribs.  "Long as yer alrigh', wot were ya doin' standin' there?!"

        "I was...thought, I saw a rare bird flying by."

        "Flippin' 'eck Jim you almost died, you know the winds round 'ere are savage!"

        "Sorry, sorry I didn't mean to frighten you."  He took a deep breath and patted him.  "What are you doing up here?"

        "Asquith sent me, said you 'ad sumthin' for 'er."

        "Oh, right of course."

        "Shift is ending soon so, want me to wait fer ya?"

        "Oh no, no it's fine you go set up the table I'll join you soon."

        "Nawww it's no fun without ya!" said Horsham grabbing his arm.  "Come on let's get out this wind before it rips yer gallies."

Imbecile.

James relented and let his friend lead him on, heading down to the library and handing the wallet back to Asquith.  By now the shards from the window had been gathered, a board placed over the gap as he went to his last duties in returning all the books back to their proper place.  Once they were all accounted for he followed Horsham down the snowy drift and into the cavernous depths kept separate from the grace of nobility, the former dungeons still damp and the walls thick whilst the wind shrieked outside causing their cloaks to flutter behind them.

        "HOO, home sweet 'ome!"

        "Or as close as one can make," muttered James shaking off his robe, "I will find us a table."

        "I'll get me cards."

Down the hall past the servants' quarters was the public room, a large mundane resting room full of tables where the commoners could sit and discuss, play games of various debauchery while eating the scraps they were given.  James found himself a seat amongst the shambling horde, whilst Horsham soon arrived with his deck of cards before two other hooded malingerers joined them, never showing their faces as they squared off in a round of poker.  A small pot of coins was set up as the game went underway, the first few rounds going smooth as the players settled in with the sounds of muttering hubbub filling the room.

        "Seen that gargoyle smash through the window?" said a scouse voice at his table.

        "I 'eard it," Horsham grinned, "made the whole library jump, felt it righ' through the floorboards!"

        "Must've been a hard gale to knock one straight through the winduh."

        "Aw well, one less o' them winged rats I say."

        "Ey now they keep out intruders."

        "Oh yeah, since when?!  When have we ever been invaded from above!?"

        "Someone might have an airship," James shrugged, "who knows when an aerial assault might happen?"

        "An airship?!" a Scots-sounding voice snorted.  "You bin readin' too many books."

        "I AM a librarian, Kenneth."

        "Well maybe ya need time aff if ya stairt talkin' aboot airships existin'."

        "Leave it out," Horsham waved him off, "stranger things've 'appened, like that blood moon an' such wot, thirty years back?"

        "Aye but the moon doesnae fly it just hangs in the sky!"

        "Uh actually it does fly?" the scouser lifted a finger.  "Technically speaking since it floats in space."

        "You ken whut ah mean Evan!"

        "Awrigh' awrigh' just calm down," Horsham raised his hands, "just 'ere to 'ave a nice game now lessee yer 'ands."

        "Two of a kind," Evan slapped his down.

        "Oohoo, same 'ere!  Jim wot about you?"

        "Iiii...managed a straight," the lemming presented his set.

        "Buggerin' shite," the Scot threw his hand, "ah almost had a flush!"

        "Welp Jim that's yours this round!" the cockney cleaner nudged his side.  "You up fer another round?"

        "Yes why not?" he grinned pulling all the coins to him.  "I feel a little lucky tonight."

        "So any of you lot off to see the Hunt?" Horsham asked reshuffling the cards.

        "Naaah," Kenneth shrugged, "cannae be daein' that this month."

        "Why not!?"

        "Ach just feelin' a wee bit sick, nuthin' major."

        "You want me to go to the clinic?" asked James.  "There's a new one in the city just been established, I could go-"

        "Naaah it's nae bother, ahll manage ken."

        "Well me an' the family are going," Evan nodded, "always go every month, it's good service to support the Hunt."

        "Too right," said Horsham divvying up their hands, "even if the church wanna rip out our throats."

        "I am surprised the castle staff would let us leave for that," James shook his head, "considering our enemies."

        "Well it's the Hunt, we all agree it's a good thing righ', the less beasts out there the better, so even if we got enemies out there, just don't stick yer neck out so you don't get nibbed!"

        "They're all a buncha rollers anywa'," the Scots-like rolled his head, "been aff tae shite since their vicar got moondrunk an' died."

        "Is it true they took his skull back to the cathedral?" the lemming stared over his cards.

        "Ah dinnae ken, they got that uhh...ach, sum other bastard wi' a gleamin' sword."

        "Best don't talk any names," Evan shook his cowl, "unless you want peter-needles."

        "Ah used tae be square-rigged 'til them sanctimonious bastards pinched me!"

        "Sod that you were a bloody prig!"

        "Well ahm aboot tae prig you bastards next cuz ahm raisin'!"

He slapped down a sack of coins as the others gasped.  The cockney shook his head and put his cards down.

        "Nawww mate, naw that's too rich fer my blood-"

        "HAH, funny," James grinned.

        "Mmmmm I'm out too," the scouse servant pulled back in turn, "yer on yer own Kenny boy, whut about you Jim?"

        "...I'll raise."

        "Ehh?!"

He shoved his coins back across the table.

        "Calling your bluff Kenneth, let's see how far you push it."

        "Ohhhohohohhh, ohhh you mugging bastard," he bit his lip under the hood, "alrigh' well let's dae it, light 'em up Horsham!"

The cards were stacked and reset, a showdown between James and Kenneth who measured each other's gaze.  The table turned quiet as they switched cards back and forth, building their hands carefully as the scribe kept his face completely sullen.  Kenneth's eye could be seen beneath the hood, looking up at the lemming with the gentle smack of his tongue.

        "Ahll raise."  Kenneth pushed more of his money.  "How 'boot it?"

        "I will call," James equalled, "must be rather confident."

        "Whut's wrang, ya scared Jim?"

        "Not of you certainly."

        "Clearly ahm nae doin' enough then.  Good bit o' money ye have there, shame ahm gonnae raise things higher."

        "Aw mate c'mon," Horsham shook his head, "thought we were gonna have fun!"

        "We are!" James grinned at him.  "He wants to up the stakes so let him."

        "Glad you agree."

The northern hood flexed his knuckles from his free hand before pulling out a bronze watch.

        "Wot, HEY!" Horsham cried.

        "Aw now Kenneth that's too much," Evan tried to push it back, "we agreed only coins!"

        "Are you in this showdown?" Kenneth turned to him.  "If naw, then back aff, Jim you callin' or foldin'?"

        "Don't do it mate," the cleaner grabbed his arm, "just fold, it's alrigh'-"

        "I call."

The lemming pulled out of his robe a necklace.  On it was a talisman made of threaded cloth, his own face upon one side of a thin metal coin with the other showing a reptilian face.

        "W-wot, wot is that?"

        "My raise."  He placed it on the table.  "Does that satisfy you Kenneth?"

        "Hhhahahaha, ohhh aye it does, thassa fancy necklace ye have, kept that quiet eh?"

        "Jim wot are ya doin'?!" gasped Horsham.

        "Raising the stakes of course," he pushed him away.

        "No but, that looks important!"

        "So is Kenneth's watch, you don't hear him complaining."

        "Cuz he's a knob!"

        "Ay-ay, you lost!" James' opponent jabbed.  "This is between me an' him, he could fold if he wants tae, ahm nae forcin' him."

        "He's right," Evan shrugged, "I don't like it either but if they wanna ding their possessions that's their poison."

        "So...ready?"  The Scots-like rapped his fingers before slamming down his cards.  "Rrrrread 'em an' weep, thassa FULL HOUSE!"

        "SHIT!" Horsham gasped.

        "Hah...hhhhahahaha, awww damn."  James snickered putting his cards face down.  "Three of a kind.  You win."

        "Whut, really?!"

        "Mmhmm!  Well played."

He offered his hand as Kenneth shook it rather stunned.

        "Enjoy your prize, you earned it."

        "Uhh...th-thanks pal."

        "Well, I think I've flipped my last coin," he stood up and stretched his limbs, "thank you for the game, I'm off to bed."

        "Alrigh' Jim," Evan waved, "sleep well, bad luck on the game!"

        "Don't let the bedwolves bite!" Horsham cried after.

The moment he left his smile faded, the lemming hunching over his shoulders as a weight crept on his back.  Kenneth took off with his earnings, along with James' talisman whilst Evan departed to bed with Horsham gathering up his cards last.

        "...huh."

He flipped over James' cards still face down on the table.

        "Wh-what?!  He..he got a straight flush.  He coulda beaten 'im but...wha?"

Something flickered in his mind as he hobbled out to the lemming's room, down the hall of icy stone where torches struggled to burn.

        "JIM!  Jim I gotta talk wi' ya!  JIIIM?!"

His door was unlocked.  James wasn't in his room.

Standing on the edge of the cliff, behind the castle on an outcropping James stared before the endless deep.  The rocks below were filled with jagged teeth, frenzied with the wash of the cold sea that lured him as a smile grew on his face.

        "No regrets."  He took a deep breath.  "Nothing to worry, or fear."

Not anymore.

        "...ohhh I hope it's quick."

Why would you care, when you're dead you're dead.

        "...yes."

He stepped closer with his feet at the brink.

        "What's one last night of pain when eternity awaits?  I wonder what it's like...is it sudden, and nothing beyond just, the silence of everything?  Or is there a realm past this, like...as if one's body became a Linking book, to transcend?"

Does it matter?

        "...it doesn't matter.  Nothing...matters."

They'll forget about you in a week.  Everyone else already has.

        "I never mattered.  I'm...I'm sorry, Chanoch.  Alistair.  I wish I'd never been in your lives s-so you...wouldn't suffer what I brought."

This is your penance.  There is no shame in this.  They would want this.

He closed his eyes. and waited for his body to take the first step.  The wind stopped, and for a moment he heard something when he lifted his foot.  A song started playing, faintly from the winds.

        "What...what is that?"

James stepped back and looked to his side.

        "Who...i-is someone there?"

Stop, it's not important-

        "Hello?!"

The voice in his mind drifted away as his curiosity piqued, drifting back from the brink as he searched for the mysterious song.  A sound that was somehow familiar, by the gentle pluck of strings, followed by a soft male voice, higher-pitched with an accent he could not place.

        "Hellooo?!  Wh-who is, is anyone there?!"

The wind came rising, but the song never left as James squinted his eyes and turned his ear to the source, following along the cliff keeping further from the edge as his cloak rippled hard against the mistral that exposed his legs.  Clutching his chest he struggled to limp through the flurries of snow, digging holes in the drift as the song became louder with the chords turning stronger, but the voice remaining soft with a lilting frontier spirit.   He spotted a small dip in the land, parts of a cleared dirt patch that caught his eye as he discovered a natural stairwell carved into the land.

Uncovered from the snow, James found a hole in the land where the melody came drifting.  Taking careful steps he shuffled down into a cave within the sea wall where a gaping hole faced out towards the dark horizon.  There he saw a stranger, in a pale robe of blue holding a guitar, an acoustic that he strummed with black claws dexterous enough to never tear the string.  James sat at the base of the stairs, fascinated by this lonesome bard at the edge of the world with a gentle song.  The lyrics would repeat, simple words about taking simple risks just to feel alive again but always savouring the rush, the joy, the thrill of existence.  Only when he stopped, did the stranger turn to speak.

        "I don't take requests, just so you know."

        "Oh, u-um, I wasn't...h-hello," James smiled bashfully, "I...I heard your song, I hope you don't mind-"

        "Heh, it's fine, hope I didn't sound terrible."

        "Not at all, it was lovely...very calming, oddly."

        "Thank you."  He nodded his hood.  "What's a guy like you doing oot on a lonesome night?"

        "Oh I was...walking, taking in the fresh sea air."

        "Pretty far away from the castle aren't you?"  He started the same song again.  "I'm assuming you're from there."

        "Yes, I work in the library, my name is James by the way."

        "Elliot.  Nice to meet you."

He sang the lyrics once more, but only in the same spot that he did before as James simply smiled listening.  He didn't realise how genuine his smile was, somewhat enchanted by the song more from his dulcet tones than its actual depth.

        "You don't have to be quiet," said Elliot mid-verse, "hell you can join in if you want."

        "O-oh, no please I wouldn't want to disturb you-"

        "No it's fine, it's nice to have an audience sometimes."

        "Well..." the lemming shuffled closer, "what are you doing out here?"

        "Travelling," his song filled the cave, "I always loved the sea...well, rather the sea more loves me."

        "Why, were you a sailor?"

        "No, I was born by the sea.  Tthen lived most my life next to another sea."

        "Oh, are you from the fishing villages?"

        "Something like that.  What aboot you?"

        "W-well, I'm not from the castle originally," James straightened his back, "more I ended up in their servitude after being...lost."

        "Ahh, you're a wanderer too?" the stranger stopped before plucking a string.  "Can you do me a favour, could you hold a note for me?"

        "A-a, note?"

        "Yeah just go aaaaaaaaa for a few seconds, while I tune this."

        "Um, alright."

James held his voice on a single note, not sure what pitch to take but going with his most comfortable as Elliot turned one of the keys at the guitar's neck.  The string tightened further and rose to a higher sound before he smiled.

        "Alright, good that's perfect!  You got a nice voice."

        "Um, th-thank you," the lemming blushed.

        "You ever taken music James?"

        "No, well...yes, actually, I used to play guitars with a...a friend."

        "Really, can you play?"

        "I can!  He taught me how to play, not a very good singer but-"

        "Well, let's see."  He handed James the guitar.  "Let's hear you play."

        "Oh, no no I couldn't-"

        "It's fine, go on let's hear it, you're not gonna break it."

        "...alright."

Taking the instrument he practiced a few strings, getting a grip with his fingers as memory took hold of him.  As he started to play, a mindless song that flickered on the edge of his thoughts, he felt a warmth grow beside him.  Someone's heart beating with his, a deep voice trembling in his ear with the smell of dry leather scales.  He started to weep as he played, a yearning regret seeped into his heart as the song became stronger and he started to sing.  Elliot joined him in harmony, nodding his head and tapping his claws in a gentle rhythm.  Once he stopped five minutes after, James handed back the guitar and brushed his tears.

        "That...th-thank you.  I needed that."

        "No problem," Elliot smiled unseen.

        "I...I should probably get back, my friend might be worried about me."

        "Alright.  I'll be here, if you ever want another session."

        "Um...c-could I...come back, and talk with you again?"

        "Sure, anytime."  The stranger bowed.  "I've got nowhere else to be."

        "Thank you.  Goodbye, Elliot."

        "Take it easy James.  Talk to you soon."

Walking back up the stairs into the blistering cold, James felt a lightness in his heart, mixing with a heavy regret as he felt something missing.  He clutched at his chest, the talisman still gone as he looked to the sea.

What are you waiting for?

He shook his head harder.

Just end it you wretched-

        "No."  He turned away with a shudder.  "N-no...not tonight.  I'm sorry, Chanoch."

Useless coward.

His face clenched with anger, stiffening his neck and marching back through the snow, humming the song that Elliot played to drown out the insidious voice.