This Story starts fifty years after Master of the Lighthouse. And just so you know Odysseus means full of wrath. I hope you like it.

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Dark Souls: Minds of the Wicked

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Part One

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Odysseus sat in the overly loud classroom. He stared at the black board; his face was devoid of emotion. His green eyes where empty and lifeless his dusty blond hair hung about his childlike face. He just sat and waited, the shouts and taunts of his fellow students at Avalon Boarding Academy for Boys went seemingly unnoticed. After a while the teacher strolled in, dressed in pressed pants, shirt and a tie. And whilst he worked on settling the class down Odysseus sat and waited. He sat like that for much of the class. In his mind her calculated things, from the number of bricks per meter then the number of bricks per kilometre to the perfect murder of 23 students whilst they slept then destruction of the entire school.

Odysseus was a genius, a child protégé, the dream of every parent. Yet his parents feared him. They had seen the evil glint in his eye, noticed his anti-social ways, witnessed him place their beloved cat in the microwave at the age of three. They had asked him about that. He told them the truth; he thought the cat a pest and had found the most entertaining way to eradicate it.

Now he was here. He had been here for four years, half his lifetime. His parents had escaped to the Swiss Alps. He was stuck in the fourth grade; it offered no mental stimulation or challenge. Could they not see his talent? Were they so blind? He was betrayed by his parents, teased by his classmates, and degraded by his teaches yet he did not hate. He could not feel joy or sorrow, he just liked the pain he had the ability to inflict.

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He lay upon his bed, his hands rested behind his head. He pondered, as he did often why he was so, heartless, no that was not the right word, emotionally detached. In modern history they had been studying the lighthouse murders that happened fifty years ago, he somehow felt connected. The police had figured that the mother had gone insane and killed everyone before falling down the stairs but he knew, he knew the girl had done it. And how she had done it, it was like poetry. Like screams vibrant and bright, liquefied and formed into tiny stars. In his mind she was a true artist. She was the only creature he admired, but why? He did not know.

"I know why." A voice called from the depths under his bed.

He froze. Odysseus, although only eight, knew that hearing voices that none in the dorm appeared to hear was not practical especially if that voice had just read your mind.

"I know why, Odysseus." The voice called again. "Because I am just like you in a way."

He turned to his side and whispered to the floor, "Who the hell are you. This joke will cost you dearly."

"No joke my brother. I was the first and you the second. Except what you are, and kill those germs kill them and then come home" The voice reached out to him growing weak and pain soaked.

"Odysseus?" A new voice called from the ground, masculine and strong. "It pains her in her state to talk across worlds, my darling is still young although she begs to differ. I congratulate you on the car accident last week, beautiful work really, that child never saw it coming neither the driver. You are talented. But how good are you?"

"I an the ambassador of pain." Odysseus replied a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order." He chuckled. "Something worth showing and not for fun."

"Yes we would enjoy that. My poor Natasha she grows restless with out those vile rats to kill to hate and kill." The voice spoke slowly fading to a muffle.

"Yes." Odysseus said to himself. "Tonight will be quite enjoyable."

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They eight-year-old boy had worked quickly on the wall to reveal the pipe system which lead to the science wing opposite the dorm wall. The other boys all slept in their ignorance of their danger. It would not take long for the dorm to fill with gas, but right now he had other things to complete. He stood fully dressed in his pressed school uniform his small feet transported him out. He travelled swiftly past the teacher's rooms where the kitchen lay. Again he made short work of irradiating the wall and attacked the gas pipes, letting the gas free. He toyed with the idea of tampering with the teacher's locks on their doors. How funny it would be to hear they scream as flames engulfed the walls of their room as roasted them alive. But he also though it would be humours to see them emerge alive, maybe they would be hideously scared. He decided to cut off the whole third story of the building. It wasn't hard all he had to do was unbolt the staircases; the fools had no other way of getting down.

Odysseus was a level below the dorms. He lit the petrol soaked fuse and walked down the stairwell and out the emergency door as the third story exploded. He thought it was so beautiful. He could smell roasting flesh in the air and if he concentrated enough he thought he could he the frantic cries from the trapped. He sat on the grass watching his masterpiece blaze. Then he saw something unexpected. A flame bathed teacher dived from one of the windows, smashing into the ground. Odysseus thought he had broken his neck by the way he just lay their screaming.

Odysseus walked up to the man he saw was the principal. His green eyes alight with mischief and his dust blond hair alive in the wind that taunted the flames. Odysseus stood tall, proud watching the principal yelp in pain, his eyes fixed on the stern face of one of his students. That uncaring face was the last thing he would ever gaze upon again.