You know that burning sensation when you get salt in an open wound? Now imagine that but a hundred times hotter, except it's no salt but fire, scorching my skin so badly I can smell the burnt flesh. But it doesn't last longer than a minute before it stops. My tormentor is a heartless sadist who uses the contrast of pain and comfort to break his victim's mind. He burns me for one minute and allows me respite for the other. The circle doesn't stop. It keeps going until I pass out from the pain, which is supposed to give me the illusion of permanence, a promise of never-ending agony.

After what I did to his master, I don't expect anything less. The poor old man hasn't been himself ever since, supervised closely after displaying suicidal tendencies. And the American? Well, let's just say her heart stopped before she could leave the temple. She was pronounced dead the second they reached the hospital. And that was me operating on the surface level. I never manipulated them into doing any of that. Their actions were merely their bodies' response to being probed for a purpose to their otherwise purposeless existence. If they had any idea who they were deep down inside, none of that madness would have been necessary.

I hear two Ezori gossiping near the dungeon as I come to the following morning. Their whispers had actually roused me. Rumors about repercussions, as Laura's relatives apparently insist on getting the temple shut down and the "psycho hypnotist," which by the way is me, prosecuted after yesterday's brief display. I'm not sure the Ezori Elder can get me out of this one even if he were sane. The gossiping acolytes also speculate the same thing.

I have a lot on my mind without having to worry about this. My wounds are still raw and bleeding, my chest numb from the scalding agony. I can barely breathe. My only respite lies in the intoxicating thought that this temple would soon be out of commission, and I'd, in turn, be released or killed, anything to end this miserable existence.

It's all experience, I know. But haven't I known pain already? The consistency with which I've suffered the same plight makes me wonder if perhaps I'm missing out on otherworldly discomforts. I mean, what about good old emotional agony? It's the most excruciating form of pain. No visible scars, but it etches itself in your psyche. You can't escape it except through death. I'm not sure if I'm being a masochist for even dreaming it, but I could really use a break from the physical agony right now. I need to experience a different version of pain. Something that transforms me, not limits me to a stagnant evolution.

Well... you know this phrase, "Be careful what you wish for"? It's never been more true than when a new guest shows up this afternoon. Honestly, you shouldn't trust my sense of time. Afternoons, mornings, night are all the same to me. You just have to be in Ori to know how true that is.

They keep everywhere sealed shut, blocking out sunlight mostly for my own convenience, but also to give the place an otherworldly atmosphere so it feels like you've entered a whole different dimension when you step in. Candlelights, altars, dark hallways, statues representing divine deities, the half-fish, half-man with snakes for hair representing Enyété—the earth and water elements—the flaming upside-down palm tree sculpted from the ceiling down that's supposed to be Ahyīra or whatever they call the wind and fire elements.

My personal favorite is the Onovavé symbol positioned in the hallway leading to the Elder Ezori chambers. It's of a large serpent twisting into an hourglass formation as it eats its own tail. Basically the circle of life and reincarnation. Mages are said to draw their powers from these deities. Like everything else I know about, I'm not sure where the knowledge came from. I enter Agidi's chamber once again, unsure why I'm suddenly feeling nostalgic over figures and concepts I've been seeing for centuries now.

Inside the chamber, I expect to find the bloodstains from yesterday, but everything is pristine white, save for the cushions that were black. Even more surprising is the strange bald man I see giving Agidi a massage around the temple.

He isn't a foreigner, but a native, yet of all the Ezori in this temple, he appears the most eccentric. He's wearing crimson pants and a sleeveless button-down shirt of the same color that reveals a set of muscular arms.

His shoes are pitch-black, like his soulless eyes, boring into me from the minute I step into the chamber. His accessories are of that same color—wristwatch, bracelets—save for the stringed bone necklace hanging down his neck, which completely gives him away as a practitioner of the dark arts.

"Of course," I sigh, shoved forward by Eiza. "A mage."

The crimson man smiles, looks down, and continues massaging Agidi's temple from behind the sofa, until the wounded old man sits up and holds a hand up, asking him to stop. "Thank you, Ovivi," he addresses the mage, adjusting the bandage around his head. "Your psychic gifts are impressive—"

"Well, that's because he's not a psychic," I cut in impatiently, feeling threatened by the presence of another dark soul in the temple. "He's clearly a dark mage. Your folks don't usually fraternize with them... with us."

"Ovivi might be a self-centered, greedy mage, but he's nothing like you," responds Agidi with a smirk. "Darkness may be in his nature, but it isn't his nature. And he's the only one who could break your evil spell on me."

"For a price, of course," the mage speaks up in a firm voice.

"Yes, Ovivi." Agidi nods, rising to his feet with the crimson man's support. "I'm well aware of our agreement. Thank you."

"What agreement?" I ask, my heart racing at the self-assured look on Agidi's face. The old man only looks this fulfilled when he's plotted something evil.

"Ovivi and I have not seen eye-to-eye," he begins quietly, walking over in my direction. "Back when sorcery wrecked our town, my forefathers hunted their kind down and killed them without a fair trial—"

"How you honor their legacy by making deals with them!"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME, ADAHWAHYI!" he snaps furiously, wincing from the action. He slowly rubs his head, suffering migraines as he continues. "We've tried everything to purge the darkness out of you, Adahwahyi. Nothing seems to work. We'd have long executed you if my grandfather Ayovi didn't prevent your execution."

"I'm sure you meant your twelfth great-grandfather," I mutter, watching Eiza inch closer with a candle. My wounds flare in response and I instinctively back away. "Whatever you say, old friend."

"Anyway, Ayovi was the wisest Ezori to have ever lived," Agidi says, gesturing for Eiza to back away. The younger Ezori does as he's told and his Elder continues. "He believed killing a being as powerful as you could bring great calamities upon this town. He said to contain you, and we've done our best so far."

"Is this about Laura? The execution? Am I finally going to die?" I ask, a hopeful smile creeping onto my lips.

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