Author's Comment:

If you find mistakes, pls tell, thx. I don't like mistakes. Author's Comment:

I was asked about reading my work on other sites.

The answer is simple: Currently I am not active in any other networks than royalroadl.com. Only here, I correct mistakes and errors.

If you read it anywhere else and have to pay for it, or have to deal with an annoying amount of advertisement, You Are Being Betrayed.

You would do good if you make other people in that network aware of it. This is a free project of mine for the purpose of having fun. And if people try to make money with it you shouldn't bother visiting their website.

I have no problem with translation and reposting of the story, as long as the person in question isn't doing it for money or stealing my identity.

The only one whom I actually allowed to have my work on his website is Armaell who invested the time to compile them into pdf.

(http://armaell-library.net/author/andur)

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“In Inuit mythology, Kigatilik is a vicious, violent demon, especially known for killing shamans. Additionally Kigatilik might be similar to a tribe of spirits known as the Claw People.”

- The Journey to the Afterlife

***Dedessia, the Sea of Souls, Semper Fidelis***

***Shade***

I empty the bucket of cold water above Miraven's head. She opens her eyes wide and gasps in shock. Her whole body writhes to get away from the cold, but the crystalline restraints of the wheelchair hold. A few moments later she finally realizes that there is no escape and her eyes start searching the room.

“Good morning!” I greet her cheerfully.

“Where am I!? You can't do this to me!” She barks.

“This is the dungeon under the palace. We are using it to interrogate our prisoners. Since we found out that you are secretly sneaking messages to Moonray, it was decided that I am the one who has to loosen your tongue,” I explain. Then I take the wheelchair's handles and push her towards the exit of the small medical room. Elona wanted to make sure that she is okay before I get to do the 'convincing'.

“I don't know what you are talking about! You've got the wrong person.” She starts writhing again.

I try to sound sad. “Oh, I am very sure that we have the right person. In fact, we have several recordings of you sneaking messages to your courier. We even intercepted the last one and caught your co-conspirator. He was very qick to spill the beans. Next time you should try to look for someone who doesn't work for money, but also an ideal.

But I have to admit that you guys put a lot of effort into making a map of the palace's new layout. Do you really think that another attack could get farther than the city's walls?”

Miraven stays silent. Either she has accepted that she was caught, or she is conserving her strength to escape when the opportunity arises.

I decide to explain her situation. “You know, getting information from enemies is actually one of my specialities. There are so many things you can do. First, you can invade their mind with telepathy, mind magic, and pluck the information directly out of their brain. But that's troublesome since it involves betting your will against the target's. One of the two combatants inevitably has the weaker will, mind, soul, whatever you want to call it. Once the weaker one breaks, it leaves him or her as a sobbing and drooling mess. A sad way to spend the rest of your life.”

“Option number two is to kill you and take your soul. A soul without the spiritual connection to a physical body can't do much to influence the world. I can lock you inside my mind and have my way with you until you decide to tell me everything. That's actually a very safe method. I've encountered very few people who are stubborn enough to endure such a fate. The only problem is that death is a pretty permanent issue unless you go through a lot of pains to reverse it.”

“You are Angrod. I heard rumours, reversing death doesn't sound impossible to you,” Miraven interjects with a sour voice.

“You are right. But it still takes time. Time which I don't want to spend on traitors. Three. We can start with a few educational lessons in the real world until you die. Then the interrogation continues inside my soulspace.”

I feel a burst of mana coming from Miraven, but the crystal handcuffs are sucking it up before she can use her magic. She is bound at her ankles and wrists. Additionally I have a cuff around her belly and her neck to secure her to the wheelchair.

Finally she realizes that her magic isn't going to work.

Once again, I pretend that I didn't notice her attempt to escape. We are on a long corridor with huge windows to the different interrogation chambers. I stop at the first one and let Miraven have a good look.

Miraven gasps upon taking in the scene behind the window. “A big water wheel!? With people from Imothep! They are normal soldiers. What did they do to you?”

I sniff in disdain. “One of them looked strangely at me and his eyes reminded me of a certain someone. I put him on that wheel to see if he remembers something about me. I don't like it when someone forgets one of my lessons. And much less if he works for the enemy.”

We watch the waterwheel for a while. After two minutes of watching the soldier being dunked in and out of the water it gets boring, so I carry on.

Next is a bloody, old fashioned torture room with bits and pieces of people lying here and there. Miraven doesn't say anything, she simply stares at the body which is held on thumb screws and dangling from the ceiling.

I sigh and move on. “Yeah, don't worry. I am using that one only to blow off some steam. We will start with the moderate methods and work our way up to the life threatening ones. There is no point in it if you die on the first day, right?”

I show her to the next room where a woman is mumbling something and hitting her head against the glass. She has worked her forehead into a bloody mess and dirtied the window with a big, red smudge. Dressed in a straitjacket for insane people, there isn't much else she can do inside the small room. “I am sorry, this one has to be cleaned up soon. I've trapped her inside an illusion of me entering and leaving the room. It's not directly interfering with her mind, but it must be disturbing to have someone screaming at you every five minutes. Lack of sleep, depression, after three or five days most people break. The really strong ones manage a week.”

“Why are you doing this? All the rumours about you defeating evil and saving the multiverse, taking down the dictating council; I thought you were the good guys,” Miraven asks with a dejected voice.

“Being good or evil is a matter of perspective. I see it like this; someone hurts me, I hurt him a thousandfold. Someone hurts my family, I kill him. Life is easier once you start living by that rule.” I twirl the wheelchair around and kneel down in front of her. “And good guys? Seriously? We simply exchanged one order with another. We never cared about bringing peace to everyone. The others were just glad that we removed their dictators and left them to their own devices. Our only interest was in living how we wanted to.

That is the circle of life and death. It goes on and on. And as you see in this realm, even the multiverse isn't an exception. Not surprising if you think about it. Given that I already restarted the multiverse several times.”

“What are you talking about? This is Dedessia, the realm between life and death!” Miraven screams.

I purse my lips. “I don't think so. The multiverse died and this is the new iteration with slightly different physics. The old multiverse wouldn't have allowed for an infinite realm like Dedessia. Call this multiverse version x to the power n.”

She shakes her head. “Then why don't we remember anything about Dedessia!”

I stand up and turn her around. “Because this iteration is too young and I highly doubt that there are many gods who manage to live long enough to regain their memories about Dedessia. I have regained almost all of my memories by now, but that's only because I share a soulbond with two others.

My memories returned in almost chronological order and from what I heard, it is the same for the others. How many gods manage to become older than a hundred years before they get eaten by a spirit or killed by another god? This realm is simply too violent. Maybe there are some selected individuals out there who managed to piece the truth together.

“Take Doreen as an example. She is a fucking Methuselah of this world, isn't she? Over two thousand years of regaining memories. Right? Or Ishaan?” I answer with a cheery voice.

“R- r- right,” Miraven answers shaken.

“So, and she only regained memories up to the point of being some old deity of the planet Earth. I don't know if you ever reincarnated there, nice planet, but no magic. The location was in a godforsaken corner of the multiverse. My own timeline takes me a lot farther into the future. Ishaan remembers the days when the council fell and my pantheon took over. But his memories end a few thousand years after that. Elona and I remember a lot more after that point. The multiverse existed for quite a while. And there is also the fact that this world has no pathways...”

I continue guiding Miraven through my little horror show, explaining the various rooms to her. I am especially proud of the one where you get pricked with needles all day long while being healed by a passive regeneration spell.

Once we arrive at the last room, I gesture at the window. “How about starting with this one? Being tied naked to a bed and tickled with feathers all day long isn't that bad. I even increased the oxygen content in the room's atmosphere. It is to make sure that nobody dies from laughing too much. We can do this as a warm-up. If you aren't that ticklish, then we can always ask my wife to heighten your senses. She is good at things like that.”

I hit my fist into my palm. “That's actually a wonderful idea! If Elona can brew up something that makes the prick of a needle feel like being stabbed by a sword...

“A totally new world!” I call out.

Miraven doesn't answer, so I walk around the wheelchair to look at her. She seems a little pale and doesn't look that well. Her eyes seem glued to her knees. Maybe the prospect of having the honour to be the first to make a speed-run through all my torture rooms is getting to her?

Finally she decides to say something. “Please. I'll tell you everything you want to know. Just try to save my family.”

I stroke my chin and regard her for a few moments. “So you are one of those guys. What's Moonray threatening you with?”

.