“The loss of a brother,” he said, opening his eyes. The women, young and dressed in cheap clothes, were gone. “Such cowardly feelings toward death. You two shame your deceased.”

A thorn pierced his mind. The half-orc reeled backward, smacking his head against hard stone. He was hidden between two buildings. No one should have known he was there. Someone did, though, and someone was curious as to why.

“You want in?” he asked aloud. “Very well. Come to my dark corners.”

He grabbed the thorn and pulled it deep inside. He swarmed it with memories of his childhood, sitting hungry and cold as Master’s experiments snarled, gagged, and shrieked in the cages all about him. He altered the memory, replacing it with his nightmares. The unseen cage doors opened. The creatures bellowed their joy in fearful howls. They would feed, and the feast would be bloody, painful, and eternal.

Qurrah expected this to drive away the intruding mental presence, but instead the image twisted. His unseen nightmare creatures walked into visible light, revealing each one as a large man with belly heavy from a life of drink. Their mouths were sewn shut. The men tore at the thread with their hands. Flesh ripped, and shards of bloody glass spewed from their mouths.

“You killed mommy,” the men said in unison as lungs and intestines followed, each punctured with glass. Qurrah tried to run, but instead his hands moved of their own accord, for he was hungry, so hungry, and in his lap was food. The taste was phenomenal.

“So you’ll be quiet,” the men continued. “You’ll be good, and you can replace mommy. Now shut up. I don’t want to hear crying.”