He wakes up to a black sky, glittered with specks. Not a soul to be seen. It captures him in the chaos of his mind, calming him. He looks around from his prone form on the back some rubble of what was once a bank allowing him to be slightly elevated from the rest of the city's rubble.

I wonder if my funeral would really be that horrible. I would at least like to think they would be nice as a formality.

The boy’s deepest thoughts come flowing to the surface. The dredges of humiliation, embarrassment, hatred, jealousy, selfishness, boil over. But they calm instantly like hot tea poured over ice as his emotions numb. Warmth flushes over his body, bringing back memories of his grandmother. She was hugging him in a meadow that they were having a picnic in during a hike.

He resolves himself in a different manner this time. His inability to feel his negative emotions any longer allow him to rationalize the need for growth, preventing a relapse into depression.

He sits up, walking over to the pillars, then stops as he comes upon one laying on the ground. This will do. He thinks inwardly. His goal is worship. For worship, he will need an altar. 

There is one issue however: “How am I supposed to build an altar out of a pillar and rubble?” 

He wonders if maybe he can pray an altar into formation but that seems a little too on the nose so he opts to assemble assorted rubble on the ground against the pillar until he gets a structure resembling a completely shattered altar. But it will work. He thinks back to the words of the voices in his head, “If you build it, she will come.” 

He wants nothing more than for her to come to him. This time he only felt her existence, imagine if only she actually blessed him with her presence! 

By the time he is done filling some of the cracks with pebbles, trying his best to make it presentable, his hands are cracked and bleeding, calluses built over the course of days split and fall but he ignores it. 

The altar he has built, at first just looks like an amalgamation of marble that resembles such, begins glowing as the boy prays. The cracks glow and seal.

It was just the sight. That was all it took. Then the threat, it reinforced. Don’t misconstrue it however. The contract has been drawn but she has not yet made any moves. 

* * *

Ahh DC, loyal as ever, my love. Your face is scruffy but it befits a warrior such as yourself. Continue to serve me well. She caresses his sleeping face.

That boy, he is the piece I have ever been searching for, and finally he will be under my thrall. If the others found him, it would be an issue. Not that they know what his potential really is though.

I didn’t even have to influence him at all and look at how he clings to me already. 

With DC, at least he had the resistance to need my full control over him, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing. A smile crosses her lips.

Good.