"My source has told me where he is. Some place called Rhy'Din. I don't know where it is.. but I will find it.

I will find him.


I just hope he gives me time to explain myself."

"I didn't plan on approaching him tonight. But his call was almost overwhelming. I don't even think he realizes that he made it. Just like I could tell by the shock and anger on his face that he hadn't expected myself to come to that call.

He'd made another enemy it seemed. I don't know what he is. Or why he's after my King. Just like the madame he was with.

I heard her call the new enemy Solaris.

I have no knowledge of what this woman is, or what ties she holds to Daemien.

Fear almost forced my hand into another mistake. But I went to him, distracted the man named Solaris. I drove two rounds of my Smith & Wesson into his skull. What she was going to do to him, I am unaware, but I aim to find out.

The man I'd presumed dead arose and we were almost defeated. He'd started carrying off the woman with my King, and the most peculiar event happened... Some form of power arose and she weakened him. The kind of power that had me trembling in my boots as I tried to stand tall for the sake of my King. I fear her, but I won't let Daemien know this. Nor her. It's not the kind of fear that tries to get me to run away from her, no. The kind that makes me fear for my Master.

The kind of fear that makes me question why he took the strike she offered across his cheek instead of turning on her with anger and aggression.

There's far too many things I don't know, too much I've missed.

But he's promised me a meeting on the morrow. He's given me a chance to speak to him and explain myself.

He made a point to tell me I was safe for the night. Which only means should what I have to say doesn't meet his approval...

...I can only hope he listens."

"We met tonight. Walking to that front door felt much like I would imagine approaching the courtroom. The sole trial that would depict whether you were to be freed, or to be sent to the chopping block. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end the entire time. I could almost feel his riling anger the closer I came to the door.

It was one of his pets that let me in. She seemed to be a sweet woman, perhaps too much so to be one of my King's. She seemed to be a willing servant, which I could only imagine how he'd obtained her. Should the opportunity arise, I may ask her.

The girl was there, too. The one from last night. Martyr, I've learned her name is. I don't quite know why she was there, but the moment I sat down to speak to my King, it became apparent... I was the reason. I think she was trying to be subtle about it. But her reluctance on leaving the room made it clear, at least to me why she was there. He'd been sly at first, trying to convince her to leave the room, I could only assume because she refused to leave the home...

Whatever hold she has on him perplexes me, I am abashed as to why he puts up with what she does. Though, I can only be thankful that he does, else my demise would have surely been met this night...

He convinced her to leave the room with his pet, to reside in the kitchen so we could speak. Through our conversing, I learned that it was not my action that has angered him so much at my presence now. He admitted to being angered long ago by my going to Mira for help, but informed me he'd long since gotten past it.

It... it's been my absence, my cowardice, that has turned his graces from me. Perhaps waiting as long as I had was a terrible, horrible mistake. Perhaps if I had come to him long ago, knelt to his mercy and asked his forgiveness, he would've understood and I would be in my King's services once more. Instead, I hid with my dishonorable fear washing through me at the very thought of his wrath.

He'd given me precisely five minutes to convince him to take mercy on me, to convince him that I had made a grave mistake and would do what I could to gain his trust and be his loyal kin again.

I.... I... failed... him. Again. My words weren't enough to sway him from his intentions, and I met my fate. Lifted by my throat, I felt the floor stolen from me, and I dangled there like a helpless, pathetic puppy. I couldn't bring myself to lash back, to struggle, to fight him. I had disappointed him, and I... I am too exhausted to keep running from him.

I thought that he was going to tear out my unbeating heart and crush it in his hand. There was a moment where I thought I saw my life flash before my eyes, but what I saw... I didn't like it. The life of a coward, the life of a runner, the life of a dishonorable man. I was ashamed to see that life. Not for the time I spent as his loyal adviser, as the head of the counsel, the King's right hand. But my failure.

And just when I thought it was all going to end, that I was going to be sent to the Hunting Grounds, only to be hunted down by every monster known and unknown to man... I was spared. Not by the King himself, but by the woman... Martyr. I suppose her name is only suiting as... She sacrificed herself. Threw herself in front of me after I was tossed aside like garbage. A part of me was grateful, a part of me was ashamed, but the biggest part of me wanted to tell her to run. To not get between the King and I. I tried... but my voice wouldn't work, I wish I could pass it off as the King damaging my vocal cords... But it was fear and being speechless of her actions that only allowed me a few simple words.

She revealed how to kill her... To him... She put her life in his hands and told him that in order to get to me, he had to get through her. It was painful to watch, and if my cowardice hadn't prevented me from staying on my knees like a pathetic worm, I would've perhaps done something. I wanted to more than anything. Seeing that sweet woman put her life on the line for someone such as I... I was completely disgusted with myself... I am disgusted with myself.

Just when I thought her attempts were for nothing, that he was going to take us both out, he didn't. He told us both to leave. I know he was going for the means to kill her. It was there in his hand. I don't know if it was mercy alone or something she told him... but he spared us.

I don't know if I'll ever get into my King's good graces again, to be a part of his kin or merely shunned from his bloodline. But Martyr... I owe her my life. If she'll permit me, I wish to repay my debt by any means possible. For the bravery I lacked, she showed ten fold. I would not be here today were it not for her. Words cannot express my appreciation, my admiration and my gratitude for her show of honorable bravery. Though I am disgusted with myself and unsure how useful I am at this point, I'm sure I can come up with something to repay her."

11.18.16

It has been weeks since I've taken pen to paper. Allowed these corrosive thoughts to spill such toxic words onto a flimsy sheet. But if I don't release them from my mind, I feel as if I may just lose it.

Or maybe I already have. He's made no approach or hint of reconciliation. I've given up on Daemien, as I'm sure he's given up on me. The more I pass his home, the more I'm aware of others he's been turning. I can smell them, the freshly turned. I worry he may be rebuilding his army, what his intentions are or if he's simply settling down with a new family.

But none of that matters. To tell him not to be a monster would be hypocritical.


I relapsed into my old ways a fortnight ago. Though I care greatly for my king, there is an excessive downfall to his blood.

Rage.

One hint of anger, and I'm flying off the wall. I'm unhinged, worn down, and it's difficult to fight the aggression that his blood riles inside. The bloodlust that...

I lost control.

There is no other way to put it. Perhaps I am weak, or perhaps I've lost some care. But what frightens me the most is how good it felt to lose control for once. I've lived and survived by restraint and control, holding back what I know to be and what his blood tries to pull me into like an intoxicating current.

Though I will never be the beast he possibly wanted. I will never be the creature tearing the throats of the innocent like he hoped.

Perhaps... perhaps I could simply turn my indignation on those more deserving than myself.

I grow tired of dwelling in pity. I have overused my grief of what was lost between myself and my king.

If he wants me, he knows where to find me. But I'm not waiting for him any longer.

He wanted me to stop being a coward.

I will remind him who Benjamin Moreau is.



The Ashen has returned.