I don't know what came over me. The power, it flew to my head; the rage that came with it, blinding me. Talia- she said it, oh, yes, she said it. They were all obedient, all good- except for her. Oh, yes, except for her.

It dawned a beautiful day, and none could have predicted it would end in blood.Day of Death, Day of Blood, Day of Tears- many names it has, all of them her fault; hers and mine. Dead, all of them! Blank, staring eyes, not seeing, not feeling. Cold, stone cold, corpses scattered around. But let me start from the beginning- the history, the history of this village. It's name, it's name, if only I could remember. Ah! The name....the village, named Pentil, a community of good, respectful Serviles. None of them would dream f disrespecting me, save one.

The day I first came to the village of Pentil, ah, it was like magic. All bowed down before me,and I walked through the village, in reverence.All of their eyes held adoration, and the proper fear and respect. I know from that moment, this would be my home. When I went to discuss the issue of my moving in with the village leader, Rydell. The only thing he could do, was drop to his knees, worship me like a god. But near god I was- As a Shaper, I held control over life and death. It was decided; I had found a home to call my own.

Every day passed, perfect. The laughing Servile children surrounded me, smiling, reaching out to touch y robes, ecstatic at the privilege of kissing my hand. One I grew especially fond of- Sylna. Oh, beautiful sad Sylna. Her death was the worst. But I shall not talk of that now; that matter is for later. Sylna- perfect, porcelain skin, obsidian eyes, midnight hair. She was hunched over, as were all Serviles, but she was not wrinkled and grey as most. She was perfect, my lovely, my angel.

The day I met Talia- that day, oh, cursed be that fateful day. Dawning black, dark, gloomy. I chanced into her shop, where I had never been before, and if only I had not been there ever. The shop was clean, seemed normal. But she- she caught my eyes. I looked at her, and was unpleasantly shocked when she did not immediately do obeisence. I shrugged it off mentally, thinking her perhaps distracted- until she met my eyes, with hers of two colors- one green, one violet. There was intelligence glittering in those eyes- forbidden knowledge, as all Serviles were stupid, brainless, as we made them. ONly made for what we told them, and taught them to do- caring for crops, animals, weaving, the like. Butshe, she was different. And she hated me, I could tell, for she did nothing to mask her disdain. "Servile," I demanded, "What is your name?" She cooly answered, "Talia," And then said something I did not expect- "If you kindly remove your cruel personage from my shop, I would be most welcome." I was so shocked, I obeyed, unthinking.

But the next day, she was made to pay. Ten lashes of the whip, and locked into a storeroom, deprived of food and water for a day. The Serviles all nodded at my judgement, calling me wise, calling me good, just. She deserved it, they agreed, but I knew it to be fear for themselves speaking. Fear of me. But that I also dismissed, as I expected it. But Talia, she would not be quenched, no- never, until death would she stop.

The day she was to come out, the whole village of Pentil gathered, eagerly awaiting their fellow servile, though she had no friends amongst them, hoping beyond all hope that she would have learned, that she would be an Obeyer, like them. But it was not to be. An armed guard escorted her out of the storeroom, and forced her to her knees before me. But she- disobedient fool! She promptyl stood up, and spat in face. Not only that, she raised a hand to me- She had the audacity to slap me. Everyone fell quiet, not even a babe cried. It was then that it happened- I spoke the words, formed it with my hands, my thoughts, my heart, my mouth- I killed her. I cast one of the worst spells I could think of. Acid- acid, eating her from the inside out, slowly dicintegrating, alive through the whole, until she was only a shell Collapsed, ravaged, she disappeared into dust.

Everyone stared at me in shocked horror, att he cruelty of her death. They did not expect me to turn on them, doing the same to them all, save Sylna- for she, I reserved a special spell. Her skin slowly twisted, deforming, bulging out, until she was crouched down on the ground, a horribly mutilated creature, screaming in a high, keening cry of pain and torment. And then, with all seeming calm, I removed her head with my sword.

I stand here now, watching the one survivor flee the burning buildings, this cursed, ahunted place. I watch as my sword raises, fascinated as it comes towards me, puncturing me. And then- then I know no more.