The rabbit laid lifelessly on the forest floor; its breath was robbed from its body by a tight rope which coldly wrapped around the rabbit’s neck. The rope had been pulled awfully tight and so the girl struggled to unknot the deadly string with her small fingers. It didn’t take too long for her to eventually unbound the rabbit and reset the trap again ready to harvest another heart; her dexterous hands and ample experience made the task almost instinctual to complete.

She picked the dead animal up by its hind legs and analyzed the body she captured. It was said that to spare a rabbit was to have good luck all day, it was a shame then that luck tasted so good. She was quite satisfied with the catch, this rabbit seemed to have a lot of meat on its body. Should she feel bad for this creature? Was this apathy irregular for an eight-year-old girl? She thought back to Ritzy back home at the orphanage, Ritzy was lucky enough to make it to the orphanage with at least a few belongings. Her luck probably sprouted from that stuffed bunny she always carried with her, mechanized luck: how partisan. Ritzy would never be able to collect the rabbit traps, she would freak out at the mere sight of a dead rabbit.

The girl was different than Ritzy, she didn’t have a stuffed bunny for one, or any belongings. She also only saw a wonderful meal in the flesh she held. It was cute sure, but that didn’t stop it from being delicious. What Ritzy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, she desperately needed some more food as well.

The girl finished doing the rounds of rabbit traps managing to head back home with a full four rabbits! Quite the haul if she had to say so herself. House mother still wouldn’t be satisfied, she never was. The girl didn’t have to worry about that though since the house mother seemed to have taken a undeserved liking to her recently. She would always have the most nutritious portion of food and hardly ever got any beatings of late; she wasn’t used to such luxury.

The girl made her way out of the forest and back into the small dying village she called home. It was a typical rural Aegis town filled with homeless, drunks, orphans, or all of the above. Sometimes the town would even greet the occasional bandits of the area who would take their share of the farms as well.

As soon as the girl stepped foot on the main street, she could feel the eyes on her, staring, drooling. Well the eyes weren’t on her but rather on her back where those four rabbits dribbled up and down with the sway of her steps. The girl knew better than to just stand around idly and picked up her pace to get home as quickly as possible.

The adults for the most part would keep back only ever judging or debating rather than actually moving in on her, that only ever happened occasionally during the worst harvests. The village children however had no qualms jumping in and harassing the girl. “Hey Waif, what you got there?” Waif kept marching forward completely ignoring the group of children circling her.

One child snuck up behind her and gave a tug on the rabbits she held but quickly jumped away when some residual blood oozed on to their fingers “Eww gross she’s holding dead animals!”

The kids all kept their distance from Waif, orbiting just out of reach. It wasn’t as if she would attack them or anything, it was simply that her breed was too dirty even for them. “She must have killed them because she was jealous that they had families.”

“Are we next?”

Waif turned on her heels about to retaliate with her own screeching slurs but stopped in her tracks as she saw how the children reacted. As Waif spun around the children all leapt back and exploded into a hushed chorus of giggles. Waif new there was no point in entertaining them, nothing she could say or do to make the situation better.

She resumed her walk home much to the delight of the stalking children. Waif held back her tears; she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. As much as she tried to hide them, one of the kids seemed to notice anyway.” hey look guys Waif is crying!”

Her face reddened and steps grew heavier. She had yet to allow any tears to fall but that was enough invitation for everyone else. One child excitedly stumbled through their insult intermixed with laughter “Why don’t you go pray to your god for help Waif?”

Another child eagerly answered their friend in Waif’s place. “She can’t ‘cause her god is dead!” All the children could not contain their laughter allowing Waif’s pace to outrun them just in time for the tears to start flowing.

She soon arrived back home. A small near dilapidated devadoot church. The building was actually fairly large relative to the other houses in this small hamlet, but the church’s population density quickly rejected any sense of grandeur. As soon as Waif made it within the fenced confines of the building, she immediately ran over to the church sanctuary and knelt down next to the front most pew and began to pray.

She wasn’t alone in the sanctuary, there were plenty other children and caretakers each praying for their own minor salvations, but Waif paid them little attention. When Waif was praying, she felt like she was the only human in the world, it was only her and the devadoots. She clasped her hand tightly squeezing them until they became redder than her puffy eyes. She hoped, hoped dearly that the devadoots would come back down and reclaim their honor. She hoped for the devadoots to show the world that they really were gods and deserved veneration, she needed them to justify her faith, her sacrifices.

Once she unclasped her hands and opened her eyes, she saw one of the caregivers standing in front of her. The caregiver now seeing that Waif had finished praying knelt down to face her eye to eye a solemn concern on her face. “Is everything alright Waif?”

Waif wiped the tears from her face sucking in a few strained breaths of air before answering. “Why does everyone hate us? It’s not fair. Why couldn’t the White Witch kill the non-believers instead?”

Waif knew that she was being selfish and rash, but she couldn’t contain her frustration even if it meant being struck for mentioning the White Witch. For a brief moment it seemed like the caregiver was about to strike Waif for her sacrilege, but the anger almost immediately disappeared off of the caregiver’s face being replaced with a somber pity. “Waif you know you should never utter the that vile creature’s name, especially for fulfillment of a wish. Would you cast the devadoots aside for someone like her?”

“No ma’am. It just feels so unfair.”

The caregiver took Waif into a comforting hug. “I know honey, but those children are corrupted. You aren’t like them, you as a worshipper of the devadoots should take it upon yourself to be better. Especially you Waif, you are a representative of our cause, a role model for everyone here.”

The kind words did much to alleviate Waif’s spirits but still came as a surprise to her. “I am?”

“Yes, Waif you are. So, you must always be on your best behavior and be a good girl alright.” Waif responded with an uncertain nod. “Good, now I see you managed to catch a lot of food for us today. See, another example of how you are like a big sister to many of the people here. Why don’t you go and bring those to the kitchen, and we’ll have a feast tonight!”

The thought of having actual meat for supper completely dashed away any thoughts of the darkness outside. Waif felt bad admitting it, but she was also excited that thanks to the strange prestigious treatment she was receiving of late she would have a larger portion of meat than anyone else. “Yes ma’am.”

Waif stood up and made her way out of the sanctuary but before she left the caretaker called out to her. “Oh, and Waif, when you’re finished with that the house mother would like to speak with you.” Waif stiffened and she felt a chill run down her spine. It was never a good thing when you went to see the house mother.

Waif soon arrived at the kitchen, it was a humble place but busy and well-guarded. Or at least as well guarded as an orphanage could muster. After the sanctuary, the kitchen was the most holy place. It was this room that breathed life into the children of the orphanage. Too many housed for any to rest with a silent stomach the kitchen was often frequented with selfish thieves desperate to eat another day.

Waif couldn’t blame them; it was the law of survival at this orphanage. If one couldn’t guarantee a plate at the table they had to steal if they wanted to satiate their brooding bodies, and It was very hard to guarantee oneself a plate. No food was the primary form of punishment under this roof, no matter how small the misdeed. It wasn’t a sadistic punishment more so than a practical one. Waif herself often had to resort to thievery back before she received her sudden noble treatment, it was the only reason she still lived so long. Even with her newfound treatment she still occasionally stole from the kitchen. It wasn’t because she was gluttonous, she would never even think of eating so wastefully in front of the devadoots. She stole for Ritzy; Ritzy was small and weak, she had yet to adapt to the orphanage and still stubbornly refused to fight for her scraps. This of course meant Waif had to lie about where she would get the extra food for Ritzy. Waif was told that the devadoots didn’t like liars but hopefully they understood she was doing it with good intentions.

Waif didn’t have to sneak into the kitchen this time around, the four rabbits slung over her shoulders acted as a badge of permission allowing her to waltz straight on in. A few of the more well behaved and trusted children were also in here helping cook and prepare and they were all ecstatic to see such a massive haul come in.

One of the caregivers approached Waif with a broad smile lighting her face. “Wow Waif you caught yourself quite a lot this time. You’re getting really good at that.”

Waif blushed unsure how to take the compliment. “It’s the traps that do all the work, I just found the best place to put them is all.”

“You don’t need to sell yourself short Waif. You did a wonderful job. Now have you been teaching Oust all of those secrets spots you know? Because It would be nice to have others that can also hunt like you.”

Waif beamed to the caregiver always happy to have satisfied their desires. “Yes ma’am. I’ve already taught him all of my tricks; I didn’t even need to bring him with me today.”

“That’s good to hear.” Despite her own words the caregiver seemed rather cheerless of the fact.

The two stood facing each other passively for what seemed a strangely long time to Waif. She wasn’t used to acting without permission, but she feared the house mother’s wrath much more than any single caregiver. “Well I have to go see the house mother now so I’m going to go.”

The caregiver’s face went from cheerless to straight up crestfallen and she quickly pulled Waif into her arms giving her a great embrace. “I’m really proud of you Waif. You’re a strong and honorable person.”

The caregiver’s behavior was beyond strange to Waif, but she didn’t let it show on her face. This whole week had been rather uncharacteristic of the orphanage, she really felt like a child with a caring family rather than just another mouth needing feeding. “Thank you ma’am, but I should really go.”

The caregiver pulled herself back allowing Waif to see actual tears rolling down the caregiver’s face. “Yes, of course. We wouldn’t want to keep the house mother waiting, now would we?”

Waif gave a final goodbye to the oddly affectionate caregiver and left for the house mother’s office. It was a short walk, even walking from one end of the building to the other was just a short jaunt. There was a large wooden door that segregated the house mother’s office from the rest of the building. Waif could feel a palpable force emanate from it, a powerful pressure telling her to turn back. Almost no one ever went through those doors and if they did it was never good.

Waif approached the door and hesitantly knocked on it. “House mother this is Waif, I was told you wanted to see me.”

A painful silence clung to the atmosphere for a disconcertingly arduous time. Eventually a response came in, that instantly recognizable monotonous yet powerful voice of the house mother travelling across the door as if it were not even there. “Yes Waif, please come in.”

The metal knob of the door felt chilling against Waif’s anxious hand. Her hesitation shackled her muscles unable to open the door with worry welling within her. Waif took all her fears and concerns and pushed them to the back of her mind turning the doorknob and walking in. It was a simple room only containing the bare necessities within it. Naked walls fell to a mostly empty floor, pushed into a corner of the room was an old withered desk, it was a simple desk without drawers or containers of any kind. Sat directly behind the desk was the house mother.

The house mother was a haggardly lady, dusty unkempt hair drooped down her head dressing her thin shoulders. She was a fitting head of the orphanage, probably was one herself in all truth. She was a terrifying woman to the children, perhaps undeservingly so. The house mother’s job was to keep the house organized and at times it felt as if the children’s jobs had been to keep it disorganized.

Waif nervously fidgeted in place bracing for whatever condemnation she was about to receive. Despite the house mother’s ragged living she carried a regal demeaner. The dirt and filth which smeared her as much as those around her somehow felt more dignified, her posture was held with import and her voice never wavered always that monotonous yet powerful drone. “Waif, you are being adopted by a very important and endowed family. I require you to be on your best behavior when you meet them tonight. You’ll be given a bath and a change of clothes in preparation for the meeting.”

“I get to bathe!?”

The house mother rose a single eyebrow at first in surprise then after in disappointment. “Your focus should be on the adoption Waif. I can’t have you blundering this meeting, it is very important for the orphanage.”

Waif composed herself not wanting to give the house mother any reason to get angry. “yes ma’am.”

The house mother let out a tired sigh, the exhalation of air taking some unseen burden with it. The house mother pushed her seat back and slowly raised up, her decrepit bones groaning more than her age would desire. The house mother approached Waif wrapping one arm around her and opening the door with the other. “Now Waif let us pretty you up for your new family.”

Waif had never taken a bath before, at least not one that wasn’t just swimming in the river. A large wooden basin filled with heated water sitting outside behind the church welcomed her in. Actual heated water! A caretaker was left with her to help apply the soap; she was going to use actual soap! On the monumentally rare occasions that Waif saw some of her friends get adopted none were ever treated to such absurd extravagance. Waif excitedly undressed her ragged clothes and filthy underwear giddy at the chance to jump into the bath. She rapidly approached the tub but stopped herself from entering. An apprehension fell over her, could she so flagrantly abuse such wealth?

The caretaker that was left with her took Waif’s clothes which was strewn on the floor and carefully placed it folded onto a small nearby stool. The caretaker then approached Waif gazing at her naked body. The caretaker frowned as she saw the layers of grime and scum caked on to Waif’s body almost blending as one with her skin through years of neglect. Even through the disgusting dredge it was easy to tell how malnourished Waif’s body was. She looked healthier than most of the other children but one could still count each of her ribs and wrap their waist around with only two hands. The caretaker then noticed the young girl staring hungrily at the bath in front of her. Waif remained unmoving; she may as well have been looking at a pot of pure gold in front of her. “You can enter the bath Waif; it is for you.”

Waif turned to the caretaker disbelief battling with euphoria on her face. A springing hope energized her voice as she asked, “Can I really?”.

It only took a simple nod from the caretaker for the mental constraints to lift off of Waif allowing her to plunge into the water. As she descended her body into the blissfully lukewarm water, she could feel a tangible mass lift off her skin. The water she sat in turned a murky brown rapidly approaching putrid black. The caretaker looked at the darkening liquid with concerned disgust; she took a large empty gulp before grabbing the bar of soap and began to scrub away at the naked Waif.

Waif tried her best to remain thankful and quiet, but she couldn’t help to let out a few groans of pain as the caretaker grinded the soap against her flesh. Waif’s skin found itself the arena for a savage battle between soap and soil. As the grit washed off she found herself amazed at the natural skin tone beneath; it was a pale white untarnished from the heat of the star by its muddy protection.

The liquid Waif now sat in had become viscous, she could feel the course speckling scratch against her submerged skin. “I’m sorry Waif could you just give me a moment?” Without another word the caretaker stood up and entered the church momentarily. The walls of the building were thin and so littered in warped holes and damaged boards that they barely even functioned as visual barriers let alone auditory ones. Waif could easily hear exactly what the people inside were saying.

“I can’t clean her anymore she’s literally just sitting in her own filth at this point.”

“He said that she had to be cleaned thoroughly, we’ll just have to get more water to wash her properly.”

“We’ve wasted so much water already, we need that water for the rest of the children to drink!” It seemed that the caretaker was arguing with the house mother over the costs of Waif’s unusual spa.

“If he doesn’t accept her and sponsors this orphanage, water will be the least of our concerns. This has to happen. Get more water.”

“Yes ma’am”

The caretaker walked back into the room solemn eyes weighing her down. “Waif, I and a few of the other caretakers will need to replace the bath water. Why don’t you exit the tub for now and wait.”

Waif obediently obliged the adult and patiently waited sitting against the church wall. She tucked her legs close to her body and hugged herself in a feeble attempt to fend off the biting winds racing against her wet skin. A small fence was the only protection she had to hide her exposed body from any passerby outside. Most completely ignored her, others displaying only pity for the state of her body, but it didn’t stop Waif from feeling visually violated. It was an uncomfortable dirty feeling, dirty in a different way than the black water being drained from the tub. Waif loved the bath, but she decided she never wanted to feel how she was feeling now again.

A constant flow of caretakers came and went dumping buckets of water into the bath. Waif was amazed at how many caretakers were taking the time to help and treat Waif so specially. Waif wondered if Ritzy would be jealous if she heard about this; Ritzy would always complain how she used to bathe and be served all the time.

Eventually the tub was refilled with new water and the bathing resumed. A few minutes later and Waif was finally clean. She gazed down at her body in awe, she was beautiful. She never knew she could love her own self as much as she did now. Everything seemed to click for her now. She was going to be adopted, baths would become a normal occurrence, she could have rabbit stew everyday and she could have a whole foot to herself. Ritzy would get adopted after as well and they would become real sisters. She wouldn’t have to hunt, or set traps, or clean, and she would never get beaten by her new parents; they would love her and Ritzy unconditionally forever.

The caretaker aggressively rubbed Waif dry with a clean cloth and finally she was ready for these new clothes she was told about. Waif understood that she was probably being too whimsical when hoping for a large, elegant princess-like dress but she was expecting a little more than this. For one, her new clothes didn’t come with any underwear which made the strong winds feel ever more frigid. The clothes itself was a single soft red dress which buttoned at the back. Waif had never worn clothes with buttons, and she needed the caretakers to close it for her since she couldn’t reach them herself. Waif thought it was a strange design for clothes to be impossible for the wearer to put on themselves. Besides that, the dress was extremely thin hardly a protective layer at all. It was so thin that Waif could actually see her own body through the fabric, but maybe that was just because she was so close to it; surely at a distance it wasn’t see through, that was the whole point of clothes wasn’t it? Even if Waif had never felt something so soft before it didn’t feel right.

Another gust of wind blew by and Waif felt wholly inadequate in this clothing. “Can I put my old clothes on, it was warmer.”

The caretaker began guiding Waif back into the church as she spoke. “Now now Waif, these clothes were provided specifically by your new father. You want to make him proud when you meet him for the first time don’t you?”

A smile formed on Waif’s face as she thought about those words, her father. He may have had a strange sense of fashion but then again maybe this was just what rich people wore, how would she know. If it was her father asking her to wear it, she would. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good, now we are going to go meet him. You must only speak when spoken to, and you must be well behaved.” The caretaker spoke guiltily but Waif couldn’t quite place why.

“Yes ma’am.”

They soon arrived back at the house mother’s office where of course the house mother was there, but more importantly she was speaking to who Waif assumed was her new father. He was a large man as wide as he was tall heavily dressed in colorful silks. Waif put on the biggest friendliest smile she could. The man’s back had been facing the door obscuring Waif from seeing the face of her family. She took the brief time it took him to turn around to pat down her dress of creases and straighten her posture. Then the man turned.

Her clothes were as see through at a distance as they were close up and his eyes pierced right past the fabric. Waif’s smile dropped instantaneously the same feeling she had while waiting for the bath to refill returned. This was not her father; it could not be her father. In that instant Waif realized she did not want to be here, and she needed to act now.

Waif span on her heels and bolted out of the door she just came in from. She sprinted as quickly as her legs would carry her. She could hear the panicked shouts and rushed feet behind her. The adults were surely faster than her with their longer stronger legs, but none could match Waif’s childish dexterity and quick wit. Waif made her way to the forest as soon as she could. No one could match Waif’s ability to navigate the forest, especially now that it was in darkened night.

Astonishingly, the caretakers continued to give chase. Children left the orphanage all the time and the caretakers never cared. Waif didn’t understand, she didn’t understand anything. Why was she fed so well the past week? Why was she never beaten in that time even when she misbehaved? Why was she bathed? Why did she need to be adopted? She didn’t understand it, only now after all the things were done did she realize she didn’t want any of it. Was this the plan of the devadoots?

Waif wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep running. It had been hours now and yet the caretakers kept to their hunt. Waif needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere where no matter how long they searched they would never find her. As if an answer to her prayer Waif came across the mouth of a cave. She didn’t have time to think it over, there was no room for hesitation as she dashed into the darkness. The day star had already begun rising, the darkness in the cave mouth would not last for long, she had to move in deeper.

She let the wall of the cave guide her deeper inwards. In the darkness she allowed her pace to slow filling the cave with the echoing pants of Waif’s exhausted lungs. Soon the darkness began to lift. A light emanated from deeper in the cave. As Waif approached it became brighter and brighter until eventually, she turned a corner and saw it. The cave opened into a gargantuan chamber, a hole in the cave’s roof let a stark beam of light strike down illuminating the powerful stone statue. A heavily adorned suit of armor carved of stone knelt in the center of the chamber in all of its impossible detail. The large statue easily three adults tall seemed almost living, the stone so finely carved that Waif could discern fabric thickness and texture. The only thing to corrupt such a beautiful work of art was the ludicrous black spear that pierced the statues body through where the statues heart would be. The spear was a pitch black that Waif couldn’t even see when she closed her eyes. If Waif focused, she could see faint sparks flash in and out of existence within the depthless pit which was the spear. The vorpal blade of the spear was smoothly slotted into the cave floor while a small bell with the number one inscribed on it hanged by a thread against the butt of the spear’s shaft. Waif’s enchantment with the statue was broken when the bell at the end of the spear suddenly moved releasing a light chime.

“Did you hear that?”

“It came from inside the cave.” The hurried charge of steps echoed down the cave tunnel. Waif hurriedly scanned the room. Some strange pink object was moving around strangely in the center of the room. She didn’t have time to deal with that, she needed to hide somewhere. Waif’s eyes locked onto the spear piercing the statues body. If she could pull the spear out Waif could probably hide inside the statue.

Waif fervently climbed the statue up to its chest. She gripped the spear with both hands, an unimaginable surge of tormented power coursed through her. The sensation emptied Waif’s head leaving her stunned for a few seconds, the overbearing power eventually relented, and she could then recollect herself and pull on the spear: it wouldn’t budge. The spear was lodged tightly in place. Waif pulled a second time. The spear didn’t even shake, she knew that there was no chance that she could unsheathe the spear from its makeshift statue holster. Even if pointless she tried a third time. She could hear the steps approach closer; they would be on to her any moment now. She needed to hide; she needed the spear to move. She didn’t know what devadoot she had to pray to for her wish to be granted so instead she prayed to the spear itself as she pulled on it a fourth time.

The massive spear jettisoned out of the statue just as the caretakers curbed around the entrance into the chamber. As the spear whizzed through the air an onslaught of oily tendrils burst from the spear and pierced the bodies of the intruding humans. The spear tip landed delicately on the cave floor; without puncturing the ground the spear impossibly balanced on its tip. The humans stabbed by the tendrils all turned a pitch black as they puffed and morphed into grotesque bulbous shapes swiftly being absorbed into the ropey stocks. The tendrils then retracted back into the spear leaving only it and Waif in the chamber. Even the pink object was no longer here leaving only a glowing parchment in its place.

A blood curdling screech of terror tore through Waif’s throat. The savage cry shredding her throat as the unknowable horror unfolded before her.

“Come”

A voice cut through her yells silencing her; the voice had no origin, no tone, or character, it was merely a voice that existed for her ears. She didn’t want to accept it, she pleaded to her own mind against acknowledging it but deep down she knew the voice came from that spear. Her shaky limbs moved as if on their own, her consciousness currently too weak to guide them themselves.

“Take me, take the invitation.”

Before Waif even became aware of it, tears were streaming down her face blurring her eyes. In response to the spears echoes she turned to the glowing parchment on the floor. She picked it up unable to make out what the page contained through her endless waterworks. She cleared her vision to find the page filled with strange shapes, she never had the time to learn to read.

“Bring it to me.”

The voice again, so powerful and commanding she felt it draw up from within herself. The essence of that spear a calamitous stain on her hands, she pulled the spear, she killed the caretakers.

“Bring it to me.”

Waif obeyed, when she didn’t know what to do Waif always obeyed. She thought she could break the cycle of her life, she thought she could run away but now just as before she obeyed. She held the parchment up to the spear.

“It reads:

You have been invited to

The Tournament

You are The

“Two million three hundred seventy four thousand eighty eight wandering souls in my realm, two million three hundred seventy four thousand eighty eight wandering souls. Lost of purpose, devoid of self I absorb another to now have two million three hundred seventy four thousand eighty nine souls in my realm.”

Life was boring! Singing was boring! Absorbing disillusioned souls was boring! This cave was boring! Having your soul torn out of your own body ravaged for its secrets then accidentally shoved down into your spear instead of your real body so you subsequently ask for the devadoots to help but they just turn your original body to stone and stab your new body which used to be your weapon into your old body and ritually leach energy from your soul for a few centuries was boring!

Well in all honesty that last part was anything but boring, depraved perhaps, treacherous maybe, a disgusting betrayal of a worshippers trust most certainly, but not boring. The boring part was having all the devadoots that knew of his existence suddenly killed off leaving him completely on his lonesome for the next two hundred twenty four years three months two weeks and a day yes he kept count what of it?

At least the privacy allowed him to ever so slowly build his soul back up by forming packs with wandering whisps of existence. Souls so tiny they hardly counted as existences. Eventually he collected enough to push his weight around and collect larger souls but that just made the whole soul collecting process boring allowing him to almost mindlessly collect that’s right you guessed it two million three hundred seventy four thousand ninety souls. He actually collected another soul while distracted by his own mad ravings that’s how easy it had become.

This may come as a surprise to most people but turns out life as an inanimate object was quite boring, some might even say it was painfully boring, but it was life. Well technically it wasn’t life at all since he was just a disconnected soul trapped in a physical container which didn’t count as living by any stretch of the term; in fact, it pretty much defined death.

Life, death, after living a few hundred years as a stick in your own heart it all became semantics. Now he lived? Died? Now he experienced the world one boring day at a time desperately trying to find anything new in his small cave chamber to entertain him.

Oh, and what a lucky day this was. He could hear the panicked sounds of running enter the cave. A youthful soul with an impressive logoic presence had been chased in by a small group of larger probably adult souls of what appeared to be the same species. His soul sense was one thing that he had managed to train to a tee in his years of isolation, so he was fairly confident in his analysis.

When the soul entered the chamber, his excitement escalated to a never before reached height. It was a human! There was a human here, the human was seeing him, the human was looking at him. Now he was getting shy; why was a spear getting shy? Well he didn’t really feel like a spear, spending his entire spear life being embedded into his own petrified body gave him a sense of connection still with that body. He hoped it made for a good statue. This human looked quite young, admittedly it had been an insanely long time since he’s seen a living human and doesn’t quite remember how exactly they aged but this had to have been a child, it matches with the soul she’s carrying. Though souls can be deceiving, for example if someone saw the soul of the spear that he was in they would think it wasn’t a spear at all but rather a half millennia old human who had once been the most powerful living thing on the planet.

He was so happy right now, the human looked totally enraptured by his presence. Oh, the bliss of being acknowledged by another existence. Not even the souls he absorbed would do that and he was literally absorbing them! He seemed to watch the human with as much adoration as they did him. He would have to reward this human somehow for paying him a visit.

His musings on how to reward the human was interrupted by the chime of a bell.

“Did you hear that?”

“It came from inside the cave.”

The little human broke into action and he felt the souls of that human’s pursuers enter the cave as well. While all this was happening, a small pink rhombus grew out of thin air in the center of the chamber, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other forms.

Woah hold on, hold on. This was way too much stimulus all at once. He did mention that he was bored but he wasn’t expected his lamentations to be answered by such a rush. It was hard to keep track of all the moving parties involved. Primary subject to focus on, how about the tiny human that was climbing his used to be body. How rude, he couldn’t believe they would use THAT spot as a foothold. The human was now right next to him, the real him, the spear him. He could feel their shallow breath, hear their energized heartbeat.

The human grabbed him! Okay things are happening! How is he supposed to react? Is this human thinking of using him as a weapon to kill their pursuers? This human is way too small to hold on to this spear. Actually, now that he thought about it, it looked like the spear might have grown larger as he absorbed more souls. He really needed to focus actually.

Speaking of focus, was this human trying to absorb his soul!? This was an absolute invasion of privacy, and a terribly planned one. Without even trying his soul automatically overpowered the human’s soul instinctively starting to consume it as it did with any other wandering soul. Were living souls this weak? He thought of his impromptu attacker, this human’s soul was drastically underpowered to be making any genuine attempt to consume him. Besides, he was bored, and consuming another random soul was boring, it would be more interesting to see where this development went.

He took a leap of faith, assuming this human wasn’t stupidly trying to absorb his power for their own gain he retracted his own soul just barely in time to avoid completely absorbing the human and allowed them to bond together. He merely gave out the offer, but the human didn’t even react, could they not even sense souls at all? How did they start absorbing his then? Very curious indeed.

He was starting to get excited by this strange human. It may have been a bit presumptuous of him to do without permission but given how inadequate this human’s soul sense was he was left with no choice. He forcefully tied their souls together spiritually bonding them together.

All of a sudden, he could feel the human, no, he could feel the girl. She was a young eight-year-old child, scared and desperate. Their bond had just been formed so he couldn’t fully decipher her intentions perfectly, but he understood that she wanted to be away from her pursuers. She wanted the spear to move, she wanted him to move so that those pursuers couldn’t catch her.

If there was one thing he could do well it was stop people. He understood very little of exactly what was occurring, but he felt confident enough that this young terrified girl wasn’t the bad guy in this scenario. Even if she was it didn’t matter, they were soul bound and he was on her side to the end good or bad.

He allowed her directive to flow in him providing the impetus for him to launch out of his old body hurtling towards the assaulters. As he approached his enemies, he let six oily tendrils unfurl from his metal body and inject themselves into every enemy. He hungrily ate their very beings. The rush of consuming a living soul sent an excited jitter down his shaft. He drew his tendrils back into himself leaving him alone in the room with the girl and the invitation.

Then the girl screamed with such guttural fear it even spooked him. That’s right, she was just a kid. She probably wasn’t used to sights like this quite yet. He tried his very best to comfort the poor child. “Don’t worry you are safe now. You can come closer, I’m not your enemy.” He tried to send his message to her through their soul bond but as it was still juvenile in its formation he couldn’t be sure how much of it came across. She did quieten down so that was a good sign, and she was also walking towards him so that was another plus.

His heart, metaphorically speaking of course, ached for the tragic child. She appeared so weak, so scared that her shaking legs could hardly carry her any longer. Whatever tormented past had befallen her was now gone, she was under his wing and together they would reach the top once more. This time that sick Chauffer would get what was coming for him. “You don’t have to worry about any people coming after you, if you take me with you all your enemies will become my fuel and we can become mighty again. Far stronger than any could imagine! This time I won’t get tossed aside by some Chauffer or by any devadoot! My soul will be mighty, and we’ll be unstoppable! We should take the invitation and shove it back in that stupid pink moron’s face! Schizo and girl rule the world! You and me to the end of days!”

Oh how great it felt to interact with the world again, years upon years of isolated torment. Now he’d be back, with her to carry his spear around and him to smite all who come; they would be walking catastrophes.

Maybe he was getting a little too excited for having finally found company; he was sensing through their soul bond that his words were in no way uplifting, if anything she was even more mortified. The girl picked up the invitation and blankly stared at it. The poor thing was illiterate. “What sort of neglected childhood were you forced through? Here, just bring it to me and I’ll read it out for you.”

He saw that she hesitated, he could feel through their bond that she was still scared. She had probably been scarred unable to trust from whatever monsters were bound to her before. But she had no more reasons to worry. There were no longer any evil monsters bounded to her, now she had him. “There’s no need to be shy, come on bring it to me and I’ll read it for you.”

His second invitation seemed to have gotten her moving. She raised the invitation in front of his body? spear? She raised it in front of him.

“It reads:

You have been invited to

The Tournament

You are The Spear”