Alleyways of rats and sewage

The mix of better living thanks to the energy of magic concentrations from hidden realm gates. So there isn't that malnutrition, lack of homes or having no access to water.

Instead territories of the mage island are divided by magic concentrations, the higher nobility life closer to these stronger and stable otherworld gates and the powerless are kept away. Jobs rely on magic here, so the powerless are burning out thier life energy in order to cast the same magic as those of higher would use borrowing energy from gates.

There is street wars about whom controls gangs around small weaker gates hidden within slums. Pockets of otherworld energy that is used to fight against injustice of the broken voting rights systems.

This division of foreigners verses native makes things even worse. As most corpses are left by walls in back alleyways, left to rot and be forgotten. It attracts pests and pests bring illness. Left long enough and the creatures from gates will drag the free meat back home, leaving it to the frustration of the beyond visitors. Them hunters of oath have rules and promises that such things are be kept at a minimum to prevent further blood through of otherworlds natural laws. Mages are bad enough, they dont need all of humanity aware of the unseen.

The spirit of damned watch in the shadows, eating negative energy but trying to make improvements. Their work torn down by preists or god followers that think the work has other motives.

A stalemate of wars between races, cultures and group types. Data showing misunderstanding and lack of education having the biggest impact.

The worse gangs of all are the assassin for hire guilds. The nobility pay them to do debt collection or head collection. The ones whom profit over the powerless inspite of being same poeple. Assassins whom are getting bigger are now being hired as house servants. Folks whom are back stabbing those good folks becuase the 'good' trying to make things better.

So, here the issue. How do you change a broken lawless country without the public appears?

Worse has to be that hunger for negative energy. I am finally feeling the suffering of not eating. Nothing small time has fill my hunger. Yet I have came to understand I am not like the other damned.

I walk and bend light as I please. I can touch and grab living poeple. I discovered this when I saved someone from falling into the saints tear lake. I should have made the others feel pain from that action but no. I am not hunted for touching a living.

If I wished it, I wrapped my appearance into a figure... and they see me. Children from orphanages to the ones dying on the floor with a smile on their face. The preists whom failed to cast me to the afterlife. The few living whom were trying to sell things for money. They all see me, although they arent dying any moment sooner or emotional negative state. I had even become scary as I often make death gods or Grim reapers avoid me.

Its of my conclusion that it about time I did something 'wrong'. And see how the country reacts to it. If I took side of the poorest and desperate, murder with my own hands of those whom making thing stay the same and maybe protect the nobility that benefit the entire public.

Besides its been a numb ever since I woke up out of the moat. The only sort thing I felt was pain in my chest for somethings done by other damned and the want to cry for others. I tried doing happy things, that hasn't worked. Looking after Animals, flowers or even the good deeds that get torn away by living locals. I tried adulting... it wasn't interesting. I had pitied the other damned whom also wanted to try too. She did go in peace eventually, I made sure to please her somehow.

No anger for the locals taking down my hard work. Giving rations of food for children younger and parentless. I had taught better magic casting the few whom had potential. I had nearly cried when I found them dead. No anger. I haven't the ability to snap. I guess am more stable and anchored to morals then other damned. They have reacted in anger before.

This stability has to be tested, as is when or where is the point I am triggering damned to hunt me down. There has to be something that fills me, takes away the hunger.

I have been the witness to many sorrows. The few whom believed they were dying murdered, body sales that gone wrong, unfaithful marries and broken religion. Lost faith to lost themselves. I am still hungery. Its like the negative energy that I should be eating isn't available by normal people.

The Damned should not or actually I have been told that they can not eat negative emotions of other spirits. Which is weird, if one was crying to death. You apparently can't eat that emotion to smooth them.

I guess it is true, since I didn't feel like I wasn't able to eat that one whom started helping me before. I forgot his name now... how rude of me. Took me to see his family to help me understand eating habits of Damned.

This is what I plan and how it will turn out might change as it goes. I will pick up a few assassins jobs, make a name for myself and see if I can stake the vampires at the heart of their operations. I will then use the new power of being the boss of the assassins to turn it towards the rotten nobility. I will make a things improve little by little. I am willing to take away powers of churches if it means letting the damned fix buildings. I will make my mark of taking licence with the hunter of oaths, use their systems to justify my actions. Maybe they would know what I am, since I can't be a real damned. I will take name among higher damned society, work out why they work for my uncle in the first place.

I am no longer caring about if I am harmed or not in the process. Some scars are worth the effort for the greater good of others. They will execution my living body when it comes back from touring off island.

It to that my living body has interest to find what my parents were like and what they did when they weren't being king and queen. It also wants to find the graves, because supposedly shard of our soul there. It too has became motivated to finding ways to improve the public health and education systems. Drawing up game plans for converting abandoned work mills and churches into hospitals and schools.

The creep one. It seems to be doing something both this me and the other me. We are unsure of its full motivations, interests and agenda. The mask seems to be its own god-like power. A likely cause for inflex of abnormal energies of magic around me, for both sides.

It will one day ask us of things beyond our abilities as mage king. I just have a nagging hole in my chest about something strange about that freak. Its been making tattoos on the body, spirit and soul. It has managed to connections of both sides mentally, growing stronger by the return of fragments.

I am more alive feeling by the day. The other is dying more by the day. Yet numb. Both of us are sensing different. Like our sight and hearing is constantly pressed to a void. Discomfort of the abyss staring back at you, that's that feeling.

Its a comfort too, because anyone or anything else... speaks in three voices. Life or dead are a constant static of noises. Enough to give a headache. It soothing to know a being nearly hollowed and empty. Still a creep, that did something to me. I still don't know.

"Where's the tax money owned by your son?" a knife stabbed through a hand holding a door partly open. A lady whine and screamed in pain. She pulls from the door as this fool barged in, "You look nicer with that fearful look in your..." his head rolls across the floor, blood dribbled a little and was snatched by darkness. The head picked up and put into a clay cooking pot. The metal handle posed up for better grasp. There a stiffen stance of it waiting to be attacked any moment after.

It pulls into a man's height, clay white mask plate is all it could be considered a face. It holds the cooking pot like a trick or treater. It steps into the light of a window, looking out.

"Excuse me..." She pulled a kichten cloth towel to cover the blood dripping hand, "Are you here to..."

"I dont work for anyone. I hate idiots." it doesn't look at her but waved the head in the pot as a saying that this guy was a idiot, " Four unhappy wives, 13 orphans and 2 of which are his grandchildren to. A pig due to be... well." a claws made in moulded clay cloth pokes into the pot. The tips back out as plays about the blood. It taps the blood where a mouth would be, "Still hungery..." it hissed and tilted to her, she backs away. Leaned up to the wall, her hand exposed again. It hovered a clothy figure over her but lowers in peering about her. Inspecting her condition, "You my dear need medical help for that still born... not just you hand." it melts through her and back out, "Now you don't have to worry. Remember, I was never here. The guy didn't attack you. Your door was never stabbed. His might be just playing around with a new wife. Yes... thats what's it is. You understand?"

She nods and looks at the lack of wounds. Her pain as no more. She was towards the window, looking for it or whatever it was looking out to. A light mutter of thank you and noted that it stole her cooking pot but... it was worth the kindness of this dark creature. It made her pains go away for now. Her hand softly placed at her lower tummy, as a a hard knot tied in her throat.

She turns away from the window, looking to the counter of which lay many things. She crumpled at her knees as 2 nameless death certificates accompanied with two small urns at place there. Her sorrow can't be erased so easily. Sometimes that breaks a heart shouldn't be forgotten or joked about. Respected with worth.

The mournful hysterical tear cancelled out the noises of daily life. Neighbors had poke noses out windows and then moved away. This sort of cry is shared by many. What could bring poeple together, was taboo subjects for the religious and natural land.

Harry steps in front of his friend. He watched it all... the murder, the head in a pot, the placement of strange items on her counter, the erasing the stab mark in the wood of the door and healing of her hand. The blood still printed on the mask lips. Harry tilted away from looking at his freind, looking in himself for the pain damned have when laws are broken. Becuase that was totally out of boundaries of interactions.

"I am still hungery. I can't find what makes me feel full." passing cooking pot to Harry. Harry looks in it and puts it down... backing away a bit, "Do you need to hunt me?"

"Nah...no... I dont need to." He looks at the pot. He stepping bravely to be sure that it is real and it did happen, "Do you feel remorse?"

"I felt pity for the lady that was about to be his victim. I felt the anger of other spirits whom hated him. The same spirit begging for justice. I felt pain of those he killed. I feel the weight of his sins given to me."

Fluttering rag cloth looses a little shape. Harry picks the pot up. He had to lower to the floor to look at the mask staring to the clouded sky, places this pot to his freinds hands. Another hand hovered over the eyes and palm over his mouth section. This is a prayer to prevent ill will of spirits from returning. The mask at the floor was grinning on one side and a deep frown of the other. Sitting up, sprung back to a suitable shape.

"You might just be the hands we need to make it change... better and worse." Harry pulls them both into shadows corridors. When one is this straved, at desperate times at search for worse and worse things thay can be considered damned feast. It had meant even... leaving the country by gates and shadow alleys. Walkways only the damned and some animals like message carriers of many worlds and cats use.

Time waits for no man. A blink of entire winter white season and the mid spring harvest. The sprouting of green and colour splashes as the sewing seed festival began. Mages celebration of a new cycle of season.

There is a eruption of soilders in metal suits policing the rowdy riot of drunk lower class. Low and middle class together in roar for change. Autumn mass graves came earlier then the seasonal flu that normally filled them.

"It seems we have a total disconnect between Bennie and the gang. Claire confirm his lost spiritual touch." Mix of ages sit around the open front door of a roofless building, three ladies in plain clothing stand in the doorway passing plates of grub to the men and lads sitting at any available ledge nearby.

This chatter is stopped as they look at the bowls of food... someone picked out an eye ball. A tooth... a nail. Bone. The plates are smashed. Everyone lifting there arms at the disgust of this foul prank, some pointing blame. Words of confessions thrown around.

"I knew that murdering you sister was the right choose!" All frozen with this man's unstable sway of standing up. Eyes from the man to then the ladies whom served them this past two months.

"We died four weeks ago. Don't you remember? It was with this pan, that knife and that bed cover."

The three ladies showed off such murder weapons on each other, a panto of marcab turth. The came out from the door way, steps to kiss whichever ones they did love. They soon turned into ash cloud spraying over these men. Souls whom got that last wish, fades with the sun light clouded over.

"So what have I been eating these three months?" the youngest asked.

"Human." Tendrils pulled and snatched them, they couldn't scream. They now hung on the rafters... softly a cold pushes them back and forth, "Still hungery. Even living food. I tried what the crazy teeth birds reccomended. The guide book of hunters meals weren't filling. The crazy teethy birds tastes like nothing. People have no tastes emotionally and physically. That one demon with purple eyes, he didn't taste of anything. The god ghost... he had a something." A notebook of failed meals and many assassinations.

"Have you tried anything normal like plants? fish? Factory stuff from other countries?"

"I am still hungery." book away, "The boss of this hidden door gang is the 3rd son of a noble family. He is in nobility district."

"You are going to scare them all."

"Not unless it look like a accident or we frame his youngest promising assassin brother for it."

"Dude, you sure that you done enough?"

"If I told you my real living name and where I belong to this society... you would murder me too." Harry looks around at how the friend walked off again, stood at the shade of the door... watching a broken figure drooling the paving stones.

"Harry, let the kid learn. He will fall when the time is right." nobility stood at the back of the building, looking up the rafters of 14 hanging corpses, "He is a royal bloodline... but his not like them at all. We have been watching his progress. The highest three elders of the dead committee think that his mission to feel full will be a benefit to the over population of damned here. We need someone or something to cleans this island of its sorrows. A pure blood royal on a unknown mission as its danger but... we are willing to accept." The noble stares at each face, "He might be the brat the dark lord Mark is pissed about. The prince of the late king and queen."

"So its revenge?" Harry asked. There is some awkward smile creeping on the carved lips of the featured drama mask, it has thick pink hue skins of cloth, soon it turns blue as the noble shurgs, "We have to just watch."

The pot on the stove whistled, the noble scatter instantly from such sounds. Harry took it off the burner... putting it out. The stew of eye stares out from the pot. He looks to those hung... faces intact. Where or whose eyes are these? He smiled deeply as he continues thinking about it.

The back walls and all the upstairs rooms are of chopped unrecognizable bodies on hooks. All headless.

The most obvious one that hung on a corner was a guy whom had scales and purple eyes, demons blacken blood sizzles the wood flooring. Unlike the others hung, this one hung right way up and still whezzing at the throat. The nobility cuts the rope that held them up the hook by the wrists. For being headless, it head stares eyeless from the window sill. Sensing time passing.

"Run free demon servant. There is worse things out there then a poacher that wants your skin." the head attached back to the corpse and was quick to be summoned by power... taken by a caster summoning circle under foot.

"I like this guys style... I hope someone hires him to behead me too." the noble purrs, following the tormented demon through the summoning. Harry seems shade to shade; off to find this possible royal whom was his freind. The bond lightly strained by the sins this kid is exactly why his compelled continued walking to this kid.

"My lord, 8 supports of the court have been found in a wine cellar. In caskets barrels of poisoned wine. Post mortem shows they were strangle, gutted then barrel. We also found traces of cinnamon, nutmeg and clove." The glass he was currently drinking is throw into the wall at the reporting servant, "There still 3 missing poeple whom support you unaccounted." A flame is now thrown at a noble damned. It turned into a crispy statue. Another beside pokes it, the ash dropped in a clump. Lower damned come out with a broom and pan. Sweeping away the ashes off the expensive carpet. Another is cleaning the glass and splashed wine.

"What of my nephew?"

"The damned have been watching him closely but when they loose track of him. It would be for 5 hour intervals. We can only conclude he does what other damned go do."

The man breaks into a cheery smile and turns with look out to the plant courtyard. Faint images of her sitting there talking to the plants takes up his mind. A frown as a image of his younger brother coming to the courtyard with a baby in his arms. A child that stares back at him, even in his memories.

"My lord... the 3 missing have been found. They were tied up to their bed chambers... surrounded by thier ex-living affairs. The rooms are decorated of many such corpses... of varying ages." the servant shivers, "and races."

"I knew they were pigs but to plaster the walls of the whores they feast on... is quite a talent."

"Dark lord, the mask of many are being nailed to every space possible in your bed chamber." A damned bows at the lowest way possible.

"morbid art. Sounds like something my younger brother did in his childhood." The eyes gleam of better years, looking at the landscape that wasnt there. Watching other practicing magic and control. Her looking onwards at the two brothers, a faint image at his side. Her eyes pained of what she knew is destiny. His eyes at the love of brothers, lost because of a lady between them.

"Is that so? Was it a curiosity of the body function or a morbid hobby?" The servants looking to a torn clothy figure, it posed to write a answer. There wasn't a face. It had no body but the tatters of strips of cloth that hovered in a seated person pose. Light gleams over the mask, as it had no after images casting to the floor. It looks to the servant posing a clothy finger of silence.

"Not that you worms matter enough to be told. He was a werid guy. Into all the dark practices of forgotten gods and practices of them. He bathed in demons blood for one. A really lost in the head... not this perfect king you assumed. He didn't really change... from dark magic to modern medical science." Written down and nods of agreement, "Instead of him taking the tests I did in order to qualify as king. He went around worlds, filling a compendium collection of books. He had even harvested the teeth of a god slayer that was made into the dagger."

"which dagger?" Playing along the clueless sounding no one. The mask slightly broken form as of a mouth, a smile and a frown. Thinned lines pulls up the surface, staring into the dreaming lord.

"The one used for the murder. It was used to stab my maniac brother, brain washed wife and that little drooling idiot. I still relish in seeing the express drop from my brother face when I beheaded his wife first. Although I were disappointed by his spawns reaction. It was as if the twerp had accepted things... I was sure he would have been sobbing with his godly father crushing him." Snarling at the point of foaming at the mouth, he throws fire at full impact into a lower servant. The expression wiped clean from the creature writing it down, a sort of poker face veil folded over it. It watched the mad man pull out a blade and behead the human report giver.

"Well given that you have pillaged my poisoned wine stock and had some nobility stuff into it. I can't really be mad that you confessed the murder of the late queen so easily. The processed to murder your 15th servant today." the notebook closed and it twirls as if swapping legs crossing. More so odd that there wasn't a chair and it lacked the servants touch of talking to the man, "I still haven't made my mind up about how to murder you. Not that it matters now, but its been quite fun looking for the fragments of my soul. A sick man's twisted joke of a trail. I do finally sort of get why it is... if the one whom put my soul there was a twisted in morbid tastes. Getting you to talk to me has been the funniest game." It purr lightly, "Much like those pretty faces you hired to be those nobles little games. Nailed to the wall like sick art... just as they asked to be." A hand formed and posed to its chest area, "I for one have no reason for being interested in self punishment like that."It pause watching Mark turn pale then hued other vivid colour, "yet. I have been told that it a sort of faze." the hand twisted in a broken joint circling. The clear darken expression paints on Marks face, he was muttering a spell of some kind. At fast step to stab the creature though the face, "You trying to feed me? bless you. How kind." The hilt is absorbed in, a motion of chewing and a pull of the Lords hand out of there. A few gems that adorned the blade spat onto Marks hand.

"What do you want?"

"To keep talking to you because you will be dead when I am complete. Beside, the public need a fool on a seat while their main king is not buried in the city of the living dead. Land deeds and whatever else is just to hidden for you to find them. You didn't inherent the memories of Kings."

"You are my nephew?" mark wipes his hand off on a random person at his side and pockets what remains of his sword.

"Its complicated. I am a fragement of your nephew. I am the one whom stayed in the country... watched you burn and make lives worse. I have let you play the enemy of the people. I have even made a fake signature of my execution approval." It broke a mad frown, snapping the mask fragments to the extreme. Two formed hands have fingers that tapped each other, methodically drumming a heart beat. Matching his uncles heart.

"The spell of breaking a soul worked?" So he knows the details. Back out with the note book, "How many pieces are you?"

"It doesn't matter, Mark. As it was one parent to break my soul into fragments. It was the other to ensure that would be both pure and impure. Not sure which was whom for which plans. It resulted in both plans working and failing." The notes are wrote and the man takes a while in thinking about this, "You should not trust all of me. I may hate, the other living side forgotten you and then there the two lost fragments... and the creep. The mask has other motives, plans and business with the whole universe. It makes my head hurt."

"Mask... the damned side of you?" He plays the bait. He waits as it did to get information out of the creature. A two way street.

"No, you fish. The voided one without a voice. Its been around a long time among the family. Quite the morbid tasker. It does souls favors. At a cost of space and time." Mark tilts, using a spell to change rooms. He pokes to look into his bedroom of masks... still being pinned up by the ones whom ripped their faces off. He steps away and spell blinks to the family library. Shadow walks among shelving for books.

"We ate the forbidden spell book before we left the country, fishy." It startled mark backing into a shelf, the soul ghost sitting pretty on shadow. It held a wine glass of a deadly cocktail by a tendril and three others to continue note taking.

"Why would you eat a book?"

"It's that sort of book." the ghost plucked a book from the shelf and passed it, "It told me it was part of the creep. So it had to be done as part of the necessary things to stop the worlds from collapsing at the time." It takes a pause, "Do you know that you killed me 8 times, we draw at 2 and I have murdered you 10 times. You cheated on one that didn't count." A page is turned and it continues writing, "Fear of... what... a interesting thing. I don't know you fear. The dreamer folks always give you goodish dreams. What exactly do you fear?"

"Aren't you planning to murder me? why are you profiling me?"

"Well, I am bored. I like listening to things you would talk about with me. You always give the needed life advice that neither pure queen or always never around father give." There is a strong glare between both. He takes the book from the tendrail. It goes writing about which is his dominant hand.

"So this is what?" He looks at the black cover... machine made. A old notebook with his younger brothers writing, "This is... one my brothers notebook's." He skimmed through and closed it. Puts it to the shelf, "Nonsense."

"I guess most paradoxes are." it mutters and he studies the being. He jumps rooms and would jump skin as it would already predicted where he be and where his back will face. Walls would never matter. It still would exist like a living painting on said wall, continuing to analyse the situation.

"Are you tired yet? That sure is a lot of magic use." it eating the cup that was poisoned wine filled, "I will have to say, the side affect of being posion with a god slayer spit has been extremely helpful. Unlike normal damned, I thrive on posioning myself. Or others... they sure are best when the soul is..." it stops a moment, " I am starting to sound like that creep. Another side affect." A new book out and it is written then disappears, "Personality synchronisation." it thinks about that.

"What if you let me find a soul fragment for you?"

"I am flattered but I would already promised enough souls of gods that you would stay away from there. You made a bloody mess last visit. She hates you enough to not ever take you back and forth of hell ever again." a tendril stabs Marks chest a few times, harmlessly.

He has enough clues from that statement to know where. Given his brothers hobby and this being a trip for the son the learn skills. There is no time to waste as he jumps off island away from the ghost. To carry out a plan, little does he realize that the souls fragment is latched to him and purposely allows the man to come up with this stealing the fragement from hell plan. It was using him to let the other side be shown the way.

Such spirit was left behind in the manor, but now it has access to the royal house without any questions or murdering needed. It makes the most of the reading of the entire library of books, exams the court records down stairs and the island map approval planning... which meant floor plans of everything single building and underground space. He was making a new reserve for fresh water, sewage pipes and underground treatment. Recycling self-sustaining water. Making life better for all, by using the pre-existing planning permissions and tunneling.

The servants watching this book worm get too comfortable. Would end up in the cellar, pinned to walls or clouds ashes. Paper is being placed about, rooms that were housing servants are for now empty. Such living poeple will return back to these jobs. It was nice that he cleaned, air out and freshened every servant room. Bored enough to write letters about what duties they would be doing. Picking a room was what picked their job. A system with a few flaws that will be fixed when it matters.

Going back to the public outside of the royal Palace was easy as pinning the back door guards to there stations. Trapped there until a human helps them.

Time here was free flowing as sand between the segments of an hour glass. A grain dropped here will feed back to the other half of himself. Eventually.