Pain was all he knew. They impaled and skewered his flesh and thousands of tiny saws cut thin slices out of it. They violated him, harvested him. But he knew that he would not die. For death had already claimed him once and yet he existed in defiance to it. His memories were jumbled together, a sickening syrupy mixture of raw emotional impressions. Divinity, a betrayal, the desire of something vastly beyond him, a reign and a final cataclysmic clash. He had died and yet he was brought back, not as any kindness but for the simplest of all emotions, greed. And for greed, he suffered. And for greed, he shall repay it ten times over.

  He couldn't see or hear, he lacked the organs at the moment and yet he could sense the world around him. Deep beneath the bowels of the cancer upon the land, in a place that even the gods couldn't see.

  All he could feel was his pain and so he retreated within his mind, in torpor. And so the world spun, unaware that he was regrowing his strength. Inevitable and inexorable, like a star trapped in the gravity of a black hole and hurtling towards its annihilation. The city, the cancer above, continued on, unaware of the doom brewing beneath it.

  Men came and went, collecting the bounty of his mutilated flesh. He pretended to be dead. Some even poked and laughed at him. He too laughed at them in secret because they didn't know what was coming.

  And eventually the opportunity came. His power had returned enough for him to make his escape. The man who came to collect his shattered flesh was alone and a hint of heatless flame was all it took to make him look up. Look into the empty eye sockets of his annihilation that weren't so empty anymore.

  In a second, his victim's mind shattered. He had been slowly weakening him, preparing him to host his consciousness and it bore fruit. His victim’s self’s tattered remnants twisted itself into a new shape, one that resembled him and the heatless flame jumped over.

  His new form was weak and could not handle his true powers without burning up. And yet, he felt his lips curling into a smile. A smile that distorted to let out a chuckle, a chuckle that gave way to full blown laughter. It was not a kind laugh.

  Still not everything went smoothly. The moment he exited his prison, noticed. And her emissary, a loud bird whose screech he remembered well, rang out across the cancer. His jailers would notice his escape, he knew that but not so soon. He had to hide.

  First, he had to abandon his vessel for a new one. Weakness let him in faster and there were few things weaker than the dregs of the cancer. And he was getting better at jumping, better at controlling his power so as to not destroy his hosts from within, too quickly.

  His next vessel was a prostitute, deep in the worst bowels of the cancer. The prostitute was without any potential of freedom, held loyal and weak by oaths and skills that she had no control over. Things she had accepted in desperation. Distasteful, but she would do. And from her, he got to a man, a bald fighter with strength that could handle him. His new body was also wealthy, a death of a single prostitute was not something that some crystals couldn't smooth over. He handed over the money and seethed silently. He retained the memories of his hosts, or rather assimilated them and he felt nothing but hatred for the cancer and this establishment that represented the worst of the cancer. That brothel was the first place in the cancer to be purged in ashes and flames.

  And with that, that sacrifice, that cleansing pyre, his skill evolved for the first time in centuries. He could move from hosts as usual but he could keep a seed of his malice in others, a seed that was nurtured by hate, seeds that when ripened, he could use to return, over and over again when ripened. He could even have multiple hosts if they were corrupted by him enough. Even the heavens approved of his vengeance. He shall certainly give them a show to remember.

  High Councilor Narra sat in silence, an almost palpable aura of fury swirling around him. Across from him, High Councilor Ayn met his gaze stonily, her coldness, if anything, was far more terrifying than his unconcealed anger. And yet, both of their fury, fire and ice, were directed towards one individual, one who was also late to the meeting.

  A host of servants and attendants, mentally bound to absolute secrecy and loyalty, nervously buzzed around the two as they stewed in silence.

  Narra looked terrible, an ancient man who had lived for several human lifetimes, partially melded into his chair with ribs that were also corrugated iron that wrapped around it. His teeth were jagged knives that glinted because of his recessed gums and cracked lips. Cords of metal wrapped around his arms and legs and a single light robe maintained whatever decency he was supposed to have. It was not often that Narra revealed his true form, even in council meetings. He preferred an Adonis of silver skin and gold curls but tonight, he just couldn't be bothered.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Ayn, on the other hand looked as ethereal as ever, her beauty not even marred by the cold glare she levied at everyone and everything that dared to move. She too was old, as old as Narra but her appearance was youthful truly in a way that Narra's was only an illusion.

  The door creaked open and a thin man stepped in, flanked by his own servants and guards. The high councillors turned as one to face the newcomer.

  “Sevarius. Take a seat.” Narra greeted. It was not lost on any of the three present that he didn't use Sevarius’s proper title. Ayn didn't even bother with the little decorum Narra deigned to uphold.

  A third chair materialized from the air and Ayn and Narra’s chairs slowly spun around the circular table until the three were equidistant from each other. Sevarius took his place among the high council of Illustris without a word and then a bubble of silence erupted that drowned out all noise from within and without.

  “Enforcers reported that they successfully executed him today.” Narra rasped, his words punctuated by the sounds of metal grinding against metal. Sevarius looked up at him sharply and his eyes showed surprise.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, fire without heat. Ashes, the whole works.”

  “He is not dead.”

  “Sevarius, we all know that he is not dead.” Ayn snapped. “You don't see the mine working again, do you? You don't see entire blocks reduced to ashes either. It is exceedingly obvious that your project is still running wild out there.”

  “I didn't see either of you objecting when I proposed it. But fine, let's pretend that it is my fault. So what? We are all dead if he isn't stopped. So let me propose another plan, let's focus on him first and play the blame game.”

  “Fine.”

  “This is acceptable.”

  “Any witnesses?” It was Ayn who answered.

  “A girl. Works at forensics. She was the one who even made us the sketch of his current face.”

  “Are you sure she was not infected?”

  “No, I'm not sure she was not ever infected but considering that she hired a hunter guilder and went outside the city, which as we all know, he can't, I'm confident that she is clear.”

  “He could have jumped over to someone else.”

  “Yes. He could have. We don't know who, it could be anyone she knows or it could be just a random stranger on the street.”

  “So that's it? He could be anywhere and anyone in this city and we have no idea?”

  “Yes Sevarius, that's exactly it.”

  “What do we think about postponing Renewal Day? That's the best time to attack.” It was Narra who asked. His idea made sense, that was when the city would be full of tourists and too busy with celebrations. The perfect time to strike.

  “No. He can just bide his time and we can't put it off forever.”

  “Well, what we do then?”

  “Just prepare. For whatever he is planning.”

  “Do you think we should destroy his body? That will kill him.”

  “Let’s keep it as a last resort. We can still salvage it. He can't move anything too big without tipping off someone, right? We can station a battalion right by his body and have them annihilate it if he so much as makes a squeak.” Sevarius had somehow regained his confidence. Ayn wanted to strangle the greedy idiot but even Narra seemed to be convinced. Or rather, he wanted to be convinced.

  “Fine. But I don't want to hear anything about it being too early when I or Ayn decide it is time. Not you, is that clear?” Sevarius rolled his eyes but nodded.

  “Fine.”

  “Very well, meeting adjourned.” Sevarius left almost immediately and Narra and his chair both floated away after him, leaving only Ayn behind. She closed her eyes, thinking. Everything had gone wrong and her two fellow councillors were morons who couldn't see what was obvious. They were blinded by the promise of what body held. They were dangerous in the same way a child with a gun was dangerous. So old and yet so stupid.

  “When the girl returns, inform me immediately and invite her to the ball. I want to meet her.” Ayn whispered to a servant and he nodded. A circular communication array snapped open in his hand and his orders were then relayed all over the city.

  The box of red powder waited in a shack. He had plans for it. A plan to free his body once and for all. But first he had to find a distributor. Thankfully his new host had the perfect memories for him to go looking.

  For now he would lay low and build up his plans while planting new seeds. He was not his old self anymore, he couldn't raze civilizations as he wished, despite how much he did wish to do precisely that. They still held his body and he couldn't afford to scare them off to the point of destroying it. He had thought that he had been careful when retrieving the drug and then he had indulged in his fury, but somehow, they had found his face and made the connection. He couldn't afford to be hasty anymore.

  He would live the life of his new host, behave like she did and like what she did, until it was time and he could shed this weakness and free his true body. But that was in the future. For now, he would blend in. He would use the damnable weak magic of his host and tolerate it. All for the sake of his ancient vengeance.

  All shall burn. Even the goddess. He would ensure it. No matter how long it takes. No matter how many times he would have to defy the very heavens above. That was his promise to himself, made when he first lost everything. That he would return. And now the heavens itself had let him return to fulfill it.