He took a deep breath, but continued on an entirely different subject.
"Do you know my dear servants that I have always loved this kind of drink? So much so that I drink them every day and in every flavor. And yet, strangely, they have never quenched my thirst, not once. I even feel, with each passing day, a growing and intolerable dissatisfaction, which eats away at my spirit, and which is only extinguished when the full moon shines, perfect in the perennial night of Stanys. What a pleasure it is to live through this short period and all that it represents."
Then his expression changed and became as cold and rigid as ice.
"But I was almost impatient to wait for you. And you know perfectly well that's one of the things I can't tolerate, don't you? ".
"Yes, we know that, master. We apologize for the inconvenience." the two servants declared, bowing again.
"It's good that you understand. After all, I never repeat a warning a second time."
Though shuddering under the explicit threat of those terribly articulate words, the two guardians were equally excited and delighted. For like their master, they loved evil, and especially Köel, despite appearances. For unlike his young partner, he was frighteningly calm, more mysterious and devious, hiding behind impassivity his greedy and devious nature. In a way, he was even more inscrutable and indispensable than his director in the immense and complex machinery of the dark world. For if one considered things correctly, Sirkol, despite his impeccable qualities as a man of the world, his remarkable intelligence and his irrefutable ability to lead, was at heart and above all a cruel, heartless and totally bloodthirsty being, even to the detriment of all his pleasure in making others suffer. Köel, on the other hand, with his keen sense of observation and his well-hidden ambitions, knew how to evolve in the shadows, to adopt any profile and to accomplish any mission, which is why he had always, since his youth, occupied positions of high responsibility in any organization he joined, except that of leader. No, this position at the top never attracted him because it required a place in the sun, which he could not bear. The gaze of others and their judgments. He was an observer, not an observed.
"All set?"
"Perfectly, master," Johes replied, his face expressing an unhealthy pleasure of anticipation. "We apologize again for our delay. But you would be pleased to know that they are all hungry, hungry to the point of insanity, and eager to eat anything as long as it looks like fresh meat. You will be very happy to see this for yourself during the "show".
Sirkol smiled pleasantly but cruelly at this satisfying news.
"Like you said, it's perfect then."
Sirkol stood up, still holding his empty glass in his sharp-nailed hand, as he admired his office, whose walls and floor were covered with two-tone marble and granite, black and virido. It was a large room, where an entire wall was occupied by a shelf filled with thick books whose contents concerned everything that had to be known about the field of black magic, or various other subjects related to the dark worlds. A huge bay window offered a breathtaking view of the terrible and timeless forest of Stanys. And another wall was entirely occupied by a huge life map, representing all the children of the shelter.
It was a large animated painting reflecting all shades of blue, on which glittering golden dots shone, signifying the young lives trapped in the cursed city. Each radiant dot differed in its mass of light as well as its size, as the quality of strength and magic differed for each child. And one point in particular, representing a young child locked in a dark room, shone even less brightly than all the others, so dying even that it looked as if it would soon fade away.
"How can a being with the least amount of light, life and magic be what he is?
Sirkol raised his eyebrows waiting for his younger, more violent guardian to clarify what he was saying.
"So insolent, sardonic and..." this time Johes' expression changed, "unimaginably strange..."
"In other words the kind of person you hate the most, because you can't understand them or reach them."
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Johes, shaking his head, looked again at this point of life that seemed to be no more one, seemed not to be able to bear the sight, lost patience and reached out to the so weak source to send a powerful wave of darkness crashing down on it. The point wavered under the young Johes' sinister attack, and everyone in the room could feel the pain the child felt as the dark waves assaulted him.
But the dot soon, as usual and inexplicably when he was so very weak, pushed back and overcame the onslaught of cruel magic that had fallen upon it, and soon regained all of its stubborn, dying light. The young black mage groaned in frustration as Sirkol mercilessly mocked the failure of his young, hateful guardian.
"How pathetic, Johes. But it's time for you to understand that there are things in this world that you can never defeat, let alone extinguish."
Johes shrugged his shoulders and became angry.
"The light has never been a necessity, my master. It is only a world of false hope created by the weak."
“But precisely for the case that bothers you so much Johes, you can't talk about light. You don't have that excuse.” Sirkol noticed with a significant sneer. Then, he raised his eyebrows and turned to his young servant.
"I notice you still like to turn out the light, Johes, or more intensely than usual. More than passion, it's an obsession for you, the driving force of your existence. But we both know it wasn't the light that beat you a minute ago, right? ".
Johes shook his head, exasperated.
"That being, which all can't help but call a fallen prodigy, is made for the light."
"For this rather, I wonder. But what is certain is that he ignores it and will always ignore it. So what's the big deal? "
"The only problem is that he hasn't been turned off yet. " the young servant shouted bluntly, foaming with rage. "And that he is what he is! That's why he must die. This very night. Because he will never understand the darkness. Even his coming here to Athok is shrouded in mystery." he added spitting resentfully, his eyes burning with hatred, jealous of all those who were gifted with extraordinary like the young prodigy he had just attacked though without much effect, and whom he seemed to hate and envy more than the others.
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