Ascending into Darkness
I came to him young, naïve.
Stood before him nervously
Seeking approval in his eyes.
Pierced by his gaze, I knew
Nothing but fear. His plan was
To mold me - make me into
What he needed. I swore my
Loyalty, my tones pleading.
Quickly silenced, I begged no more
Show no weakness, he hissed.
He deemed me 'acceptable' and I
Was sent away. When I came before
Him again, I stood tall, proud
But not arrogantly so. He was pleased.
I had learned. In the months to follow
I gained experience. Precision and devious
Cunning became second nature.
When I next stood before him, I no longer
Was full of nerves. I was a master
At my art, trained by the best to be
What he wanted. His piercing gaze
Frightened me no more and this he
Did not like. I, sent away, discarded
As nothing more than rags, watched as
Another came before him. Another - young, naïve.
Filled with fear. I had no pity. The cycle