Pain was not a curse.

  Pain was a lesson.

  Pain was power.

  The Fae Lord of Agony did not think as mortals did.

  It did not see life and death in the way flesh-bound beings understood them.

  To it, there was only the cycle.

  The endless churn of weakness into strength.

  The unmaking of who they were to become what they must be.

  And now, it had been summoned.

  And the world would learn its truth.

  ---

  The first had already embraced the change.

  A mortal, weak and trembling, had looked into the abyss and stepped forward.

  And so, Agony had reshaped him.

  Not with magic.

  Not with chains.

  But with his own will.

  With his own hunger for strength.

  Pain had burned away his limits.

  And now, he stood anew.

  A disciple.

  A seed.

  A vessel of the one truth that all things must learn:

  To grow is to suffer.

  To suffer is to ascend.

  ---

  Agony did not summon armies.

  It did not need to.

  It did not need to create.

  Because the world was already filled with suffering.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  All it needed to do was direct it.

  ---

  The other Fae watched it with unease.

  The strong did not fear it.

  They had already conquered their own suffering.

  But the weak?

  The weak flinched from its presence.

  The weak shrank away.

  Because they knew.

  Knew that if they came too close, they would be offered the choice.

  Submit and be reforged.

  Or be broken under the weight of their own cowardice.

  And there was nothing more terrifying than choice.

  Because choice meant responsibility.

  Choice meant acknowledging weakness.

  And most creatures would rather rot than change.

  ---

  Selene was different.

  She did not flinch.

  She did not hesitate.

  She looked upon Agony and saw its use.

  She saw it not as a monster.

  But as a tool.

  Agony did not feel pride.

  It did not feel the need to be worshiped.

  It was not like lesser gods, craving faith like a starving thing.

  It did not demand.

  It simply existed.

  And those who understood would come to it naturally.

  ---

  Already, the whispers began.

  The mortal it had transformed stood among his kind, and they stared.

  Some in horror.

  Some in fascination.

  And Agony could feel it.

  The hunger.

  The question in their minds, the doubt, the hesitation—

  Could I be more?

  Agony did not speak in words.

  It resonated.

  And the ones who would seek it out would do so on their own.

  The rest?

  They were of no concern.

  Because suffering would find them in time.

  ---

  Later, Selene brought it to a war council.

  It was the first time Agony had been in such a place.

  The first time it had observed the mortal art of planning.

  It did not need such things.

  Its domain was inevitable.

  But Selene had a mind for structure.

  She did not let things unfold randomly.

  She shaped them.

  Controlled them.

  And that was why Agony followed her.

  Not because it was bound to her.

  But because she understood.

  She understood that pain was not to be feared.

  It was to be mastered.

  ---

  A discussion was taking place.

  Lords, vassals, Fae—they spoke of war.

  Of the coming attacks from lesser Dominions.

  Agony did not care for tactics.

  It did not care for choke points or supply lines.

  But then—

  Selene turned toward it.

  And asked it a question.

  “What happens when an army suffers?”

  Agony considered.

  Mortals, when faced with pain, had only three responses.

  They broke.

  They endured.

  Or they became something else.

  Selene smiled.

  “And what if we help them choose?”

  Agony understood.

  And it approved.

  ---

  The plan was set.

  Blackwell’s forces would retreat.

  The enemy would move in.

  But instead of finding victory, they would find something else.

  They would find suffering.

  And suffering would either crush them or change them.

  Either way—

  Selene would win.

  And Agony would be there to welcome the ones who survived.

  ---

  As the meeting ended, Agony remained still.

  It watched as mortals spoke, plotted, prepared.

  It watched as its first disciple knelt in the corner of the room, his presence ignored by all but those who could feel the shift.

  He did not speak.

  He did not move.

  But he would be the first.

  The first of many.

  Because Agony did not need to lead armies.

  It did not need to command legions.

  It only needed to wait.

  Because pain found all things.

  And when it did—

  They would come.

  One by one.

  Step by step.

  Until the Court of Balance was not just an empire.

  But a faith.

  A movement.

  A truth.

  And all the world would know:

  Suffering is not the end.

  Suffering is the beginning.