“I’ll be back for you.” Black Knife stooped to peck Ivy on the cheek and turned toward the stairs, leaving Benny and Ivy and their conversation about the weather. As he trudged up the stairs back to the main hall, Black Knife stepped as though his boots were made of lead. He absolutely loathed Satyrion.

Every month or so, she used him as a rodent for her dark experiments. Athos allowed it readily, eager to unlock more magickal secrets. His goal remained, as ever, to make Black Knife the perfect candidate for second in command. He wanted Black Knife to be like him, immune to magickal damage, if possible, and filled with dark secrets. Black Knife could almost see in the dark, and while he could not do any spell-based magick, like his master, he could call upon the energy within him to create flame.

This flame was particularly useful for burning everything someone had to the ground.

Black Knife snapped as he ascended the stairs, a spark igniting on his fingertips, reminding him of everything Satyrion had done to him. She had given him the power of fire. The process had been painful, involving the injection of potions and enchanted tinctures into his blood, but he now had the ability to call fire forth to his hands. He hated it.