The Final Wordsmith: Atroano Zisi

(26k words, unedited)

Wouldn’t you like to get everything you desire through simply talking to those who have that everything? Well, keep dreaming. This isn’t a story of some magical mind-control crap. This is a story of the past, when people were illiterate idiots. Among them was me, Atroano. Call me Ano.

While millions starved to drive out certain members of certain groups into the open, the Capitas only cared about profits. Greed ruled the land and killed the land. Smack dab in the middle of it, I was born screaming out for food that wasn’t coming. My family name, Zisi, meant a lot a while back, or so I was told. Now the name meant nothing. Another few letters dragged through the mud.

Early life was short and burdened. I had to earn my keep as soon as I could hold an excavator. Our group wondered around looking for opportunity, food, and love. The Capitas called us Wonderers when in public, but they called us trash among themselves. They were the rich and powerful of Ahedis. What could our kind do, unwanted in the cities of the country.

When I reached the age of eight, I had seen enough hate in my world to last me a lifetime. I excavated dirt equal to a third of all Ahedis onto bodies of the unlucky Wonderers who perished where we stayed. My hands felt old, though I had not reached the age were soft hands was a sought quality. At the age of eleven, I decided to detach from the group of wondering homeless after burying my five-year-old brother, Sedi.

My parents were long dead. No wonderer lived past the prime of life at thirty-five. If we managed to survive, we grew up to hold others up. That was a great fear, until there was too much on your back, like a house maybe. One wonderer actually died like that. He saved his family only to have them die a few months later because he wasn’t there. That was life of our lowly kind, and I wasn’t having it. Sadi’s death did it for me, broke me, showed me the truth of what would become of me if I didn’t do something.

My brother’s death wasn’t his fault. Getting bitten by wildlife was the hazard of wondering around. A poisonous zaka bit him and I had no way of helping the boy. He’d been dragging me down since birth anyway, even more after our parents died. I did love him, but now, standing over the hole that was to be his grave, I felt as if I had nothing to chain m down, no obligation, and no weakness to exploit. It was my turn to carve a path.

When the troupe reached a new town, I entered it as a lone wanderer. They would litter the streets with beggars. Those who had muscle could get some temporary work, but being a part of the Wonderers, their jobs never remained permanent. I aimed to change that for myself. Though scrawny, I had some might in me and could work. The remaining wonderers made their life to steal from the rich of the town.

On average, the begging and stealing was left alone for a few months until the rich intervened. While the Wonderers pleaded and stole, I did some stealing of my own, cleaner clothes to wear. I had to look presentable to seek a job in the town. Older people required more assistance, so I discriminated about age and went to old folks first. That was where I met the crazy old man name Accor. He never told me his family name, but once he had mine, I became his property. That was the power of a Wordsmith. It would be a few years later that he died, passing on the teachings.

The End.




Ha! I got you for a second there. That really is the whole story, but I excluded a lot. Tell you what, I’ll tell you a few stories about my life before and after Accor’s death. In this manner, you get to decide which to read first and maybe guess their correct order. Let’s see… There will be nine stories of the past. I hate the number, so that must be right. Here is the list:




Story 4 (My favorite number, so it goes first) – “Molten Words”

Story 8 (I like evens, I guess) – “Heart(s)”

Story 1 – “A Rich Bitch”

Story 5 – “The End Cycle”

Story 7 – “To Belong”

Story 2 – “I Own You”

Story 3 – “Simple Minds Are Weak Minds”

Story 9 – “The Big Picture”

Story 6 – “The Sex One”




Let’s see if you have enough restrain and not jump directly to number six. At my age, I sure would. When this is being written, I’m sixteen, just so you know, so don’t expect me to be all “profound” and stuff. Well, take your pick, and don’t judge me. You’d do the things too if you had such a power. An ability to burn people up from the inside using just words is truly a feat worth recognizing.




Molten Words (4)




“Ast Kyhe Zon Turoc Nast,” the old man said. To this day I have no idea which dialect he used or if there was any sense to his words. It was a time when dialects fought to remain in power. All I knew for sure was that his prattle of random words had power over me. I felt a heat inside me chest when he chanted. “Ighi Tolan Vom Nese Ticht!” Hie eyes opened and looked at me. The heat subsided.

“Well?” he asked.

“Lukewarm,” I replied. “You sure you’re saying the words right? The damn thing’s a thousand years old, kinda like you.”

“Silence! Kirht!” he said. In response, my jaw locked closed. Words of command were his forte as a wordsmith, thus making me his slave. It wasn’t all bad. He often called over beautiful girls to attend his prehistoric urges. I got to know most of them after he was done. They all cried at my shoulder and in that weakness, I took advantage to satisfy my own developing cravings. It was all I could do to keep myself from thinking about her.

It wasn’t just the words that controlled people. Over my time with him, I recorded the words, but they had no power in my mouth. He knew the art to a degree beyond my ability. He was well known in town, mostly feared, but worshipped to a point. Those who once told him their names were now slaves on command. Even the rich did not dare to act against Accor, for their names were known to all.

“Alright, enough for today,” he said. “Zime.” My jaw unlocked.

“Kirht!” I said the first chance I got. The old man paused and opened his eyes wide. For a moment, I thought I succeeded in shutting him up, but he closed his eyes.

“Aso Kyn,” he said. In response, my hand formed a tight fist. “Tur.” The clenched arm acted against my will to punch my face with full force. “Tur.” Another hit. “Tur, Tur, Tur.”

“Stop!” a voice called out. Resisting the betrayal of my own arm was impossible. A woman ran up in a flowing white robe. “Stop it, Accor! He’s just a kid!” The old man looked at her with a twinge of anger.

“Aso Mak,” he said. The woman’s hand grabbed her robe and tore it off. Despite pain throbbing in my face, I watch the naked figure as it revealed. Her eyes held no shame and her cheeks did not blush. For a moment, I forgot pain a blood rushed to a different part of my body.

“Let Ano go,” she said with the same integrity as she’d possess when fully clothed. The old man grinned.

“Zime.” With control, the woman picked up her torn robe. Accor turned to me. “Don’t you speak me words of command against me, boy. They will never work for you.” If he knew that, why couldn’t I try to turn his words against him? There was no threat to be afraid of. I still believed that practice was all it took.

I’d seen the man speak just a few words to have men kill themselves, betray their friends, slaughter their loved ones, and much more evil. Being the dirty old man that Accor was, I’d also taken note of the many commands he used to force women to lay with him and preform all sort of explicit to each other and him. Regardless of what he told me of them, I wrote the words down so that one day I could use them against him.

“Let him go, Accor,” the woman said. She had a name, but I kept forgetting it. It was La-something. She would not last very long being so resistant. The old man broke all of them in due time. There was a limit to strength of resolve, even in a princess such as herself.

“Zime,” Accor said looking in my direction. I resisted the urge to attack him when my body was freed. La-‘s eyes remained fierce, but I knew those royal supports wore down at every act she was subjected to. Larna. That was the actual name. The second princess of the Ango Empire, Larna Sarin. I was partially angry at myself for getting excited by seeing her naked, but I was young.

“I’m sorry,” I said through my teeth clenched in anger. “Please don’t punish her because of my error.” I faced him on my knees and bowed forward. When I rose up, I saw a tear fall from La’s cheek. I wished for something to change as the drop of water fell toward the ground. When it touched down, everything was the same. Nobody was listening to wishes in this world.

“Larna,” Accor said. “Please redress yourself. We have guests today. Boy, back to cleaning.” I felt feeling the same anger I often did around the old man. He had so many possibilities, yet used it only for himself. I knew I would do the same in his situation. Even though power corrupted, it was the person’s past that was the true trigger of evil. With my dark-before, I would be just like the old man with these words of command, but I hoped I’d have more restraint and use it to help someone, even if just for greed.

The parchment Accor read from was old, from before time began. That just meant it was before time was counted. It was the third century according to some stupid calendar that relied on a belief. The writing of that age could not exist, and yet it proved that wordsmiths had been alive for much longer, speaking a tongue much different than any Ahedis dialect, yet borrowing upon them all.

From what he told me, those words he spoke at me numerous times were meant to kill, and I was afraid the first few times he tried them out. They weren’t his usual words of command. It felt like magic to burn a person up from the inside. There had to be a reason why Accor wanted to hurt me, use those words to destroy me, but I didn’t know anything about his past. No person was born cruel, and I wanted to know what turned him into such a corrupted soul.

“You’re too nice,” a voice whispered at me through a separator wall. “There is no good in that man, Ano. He’s old, bitter, and wrong for this world.” I returned to scrubbing the floor.

“He’s a wordsmith, Anna,” I replied. She was one of his slave girls. She’d taken a liking to me when I resisted having my way with her. It was similar with every girl. She changed me, not with what she did, but with what the old man had her do for him. “If you keep talking to me like this, Accor will suspect something’s up.”

“Live a little, Ano,” she said. The separator opened to her naked skin lit to the flamed lanterns only shrouded by bed covers. I wanted to gape, but forced myself to look away. “Why do you do that? Why look away? He has me dance naked in front of him. I’ve no shame left to hide from your eyes. Why do you not treat me different than all the others?” It wasn’t about her. My heart was already taken with another. Anna looked too much like her.

“Please cover up,” I said.

“You’re a strange boy, Atroano,” she said.

“Don’t call me that,” I said. “Don’t ever use my full name. He makes me kill anyone who knows it. I don’t want to hurt you, Anna.” She said nothing in response, only closed the separator back up.

As I often did before going to bed, I practiced what words of command I would use on the old man. I couldn’t believe his claim to them. No matter how many times he told me that the words would never work for me, I had to try. If such a power would ever fall onto my shoulders, I would use it better than he. I knew that to be true.

The next day, he was practicing the words from the old parchment on me again. I felt my chest burn hot inside, more than before. Was that it? Would he succeed this time? I pleaded in my mind to give me time. My thought went to her, the girl that had my heart, and in that moment, the heat subsided. Accor stopped his chanting and narrowed his eyes at me.

“This isn’t working,” he said. I almost fired off a quirky comment, but resisted because of what happened the day before. My face and fist were still sore from the fight. “There is no chance of this, but are you in love, boy?” The question took me by surprise. For a moment, I imagined we sat at a table of a tavern and talked like normal people. Before I knew, blood rushed to my face. Why did he ask such a thing?

“No, I’m not,” I replied.

“Blood always betrays you, my boy,” It is the curse of being young. If your heart already burns for someone, how can you die from it?” Accor called servants in and sent them to fetch something.

“Well, no wonder it wasn’t working,” he said. “Unlike my words of command, these are Words of Emotion, the molten words. Unfortunate as it is, they are very strict words and have limitations. I do believe there is a way to make them work on you” Two other servants brought Anna into the room in her nightgown. Fear tightened my fists and anger held them tight. Did he think I loved her?

“If you think it’s her, you’re wrong,” I said. The old man only laughed while slipping a hand under the nightgown. I looked away as he groped her.

“No, boy,” Accor said. “She’s me new subject. I know for certain she is alone in this world because her whole village was burned to the ground in a Kori raid.

“Please, Accor, don’t do this,” I said.

“Kirht, boy,” he said. My jaw locked as he started chanting the molten words. I couldn’t let her die. I lunged at the old man, but he was quick with a few words. “Min Veet Tuht.” I stopped my lunge, fell to my knees and moved back to the wall. I wish I could say there was a miracle and I gained the ability he used on me to counter his control, but Anna smiled at me instead.

“Oh, Ano,” she said. “It’s ok. I’d rather die than live this life. I want to see my family again, Atroano Zisi.” The old man looked at me and frowned.

“I told you not to tell anyone your name, boy,” he said. “You belong to me, your name and life. Zime Kirht. Now I need to kill two of my servants as well because they heard it. Veet! Veet!” The servants dropped to their knees with panic on their faces.

“Why?!” I asked. “Why can’t anybody know my name? What’s wrong with that? IT MEANS NOTHING!”

“You’re wrong there, Zisi,” Accor said. “Your family’s ancestors have been remembered by Wordsmiths like me for centuries. The fact that you are oblivious to this fact is amazing, but nobody else can know about this. I will make sure of that. Kirht.” My jaw locked again. I watched him chant the molten words at Anna. I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. Her eyes were in tears, those eyes that reminded me of the one my heart belonged to.

“…Vom Nese Ticht!” he said for about the tenth time. “IGHI!” Anna’s chest glowed bright red, then orange. Her body glowed and steamed, almost white. When the first part of her broke, a black gap opened where her heart was and propagated along the body. In seconds, she turned to just a pile of ash on the floor. Tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my face. I’d seen people die before, forced by the old man, but Anna didn’t look in pain. Even the tears only met with a smile in the end, burning away in peace.

“It does work,” Accor said and turned to my angered face. “She didn’t suffer. Part of the words numb the body. I’m not cruel, Ano. Some people die so others my live, so I may live.” I watched his wrinkled face regain some youth. These words of emotion were not just a weapon. They were medicine, a miraculous bypass to aging.

“Now for you two,” I can’t be sure,” he said

“Please don’t!” Gevi pleaded. The other’s name was Helias, but he kept quiet, only held his eyes closed in anticipation of the end. “Kirht. Turoc. Tir Kes Mel!” At the last phrase, Gevi turned his own neck to the side in a quick motion and fell dead to the floor. Helias muttered something under his breath, a prayer perhaps to some belief he felt would save him. Accor repeated the two phrases as the muttering stopped to the sound of his own neck twisting to a snap.

“They felt no pain, Ano,” he said. I wanted to scream at him. Just because they didn’t feel pain did not make what he did fine. Watching Anna die was painful enough, eve nif she went with a smile. “Zime Kirht.” I felt my jaw loosen.

“YOU MONSTER!” I yelled. He did not silence me this time. “Just kill me! Why did you make me watch this?”

“Ano,” he said holding the old parchment up to a lantern. Instead of consuming the dry paper, the flame licked at the words, lighting them up to glow. “Anco Miog.” I felt a burst of calm settle my angry emotions. “I could make you feel no emotion if you’d like, but I will not be killing you. You’re my legacy.”

“Le-ga-cy?” I asked in a daze. Accor sighed.

“This won’t do,” he said. “You’re not Ano if I take away your anger. Ziem. Veet.” Anger flowed back into my brain, but I still felt my legs betray me.

“I don’t want to be your legacy,” I said. “If that’s what your ability lets you do, I want nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, you do,” the old man said. “You practice the words in bed and while you sleep. You see, Wordsmiths aren’t meant to exist anymore. It’s not something easily passed on or inherited. The ability relies on giving yourself up in entirety.”

“Why would I be your legacy?” I asked. “You just killed my friend! You burned her alive! Then you killed two others just because they heard me name! You’re TWISTED!”

“I’m doing what was done to me so I could become this,” he said. That was the first time he shared something personal with me, and yet, I couldn’t care less. “In time, you will learn more, but nobody can know that your family name is still around. Zime. It’s late, go sleep.” I debated attacking him for a second, but did not feel like punching my own lights out like yesterday.

While I lay in bed running the day through my mind, I repeated the words he used to turn Anna into a pile of ash. One day, I would use those molten words, words of emotion, to kill him myself. For now, all I could do was play along with his insane teaching. Revenge could wait.




Simple Minds Are Weak Minds (3)




I ran up to the door and knocked. It was shabby, but all they could afford. Many living in the area barely had enough money to survive, and yet they still gave away things for free. To me at least. All I had to say was three little words, and their lives became mine. Most often, it only took those three words. They propagated from one member of the house to all others by word of mouth and captured them for me.

“Friends with Karta,” I said. The man who came to the door opened his mouth, but no words came out. I went through as he stood aside. Karta was the family name of a princess I befriended on my travels. She was sweet, and so innocent for her being four years older than me. I’ve already seen the darkest of the world at my young age, but she lived her life in blissful ignorance that people beyond her palace suffered. It was fresh to know someone like that in a world of hell I’ve been thought already.

The Karta’s were well known in the northwestern part of Ahedis and adapted to using the ever more popular Ango dialect. Behind the scenes, the war over dialects brewed in silence, hidden yet ever brutal. Sikei Karta was the beloved princess of King Emanuel Karta, and Queen Vanessa Karta. Her family name was respected and feared, which made it perfect to use for getting into random houses of those of weaker minds. I needed practice with my craft.

Over the years, I found out that dumb people were much easier to control. The only reason they remained uneducated was because of being forgotten. The rich focused on their own children, and a few who could afford learning. Meanwhile, the poor clung to their homes supported by royalty. That opened them to these constant invasions of privacy. They were just lowly subjects in a grand kingdom, passing down crafts and serving skills. It was perfect to learn from them.

“Please gather the whole household,” I said while removing my shoes. It was past supper, so food would not be in the way. The man stood dumbstruck at the door. “In the name of the Karta, of course.” I held up a royal seal borrowed from princess Kei. The man grimaced and closed the shabby front door.

“May I ask what this is regarding?” He asked. The man wasn’t as slow as I thought. Most didn’t even question the Karta seal. If happened sometimes that a smarter person existed among the common folk, an undiscovered talent, hiding from opportunity. He held up his hands at my gaze. “I don’t mean to upset-.”

“What’s your name?” I asked leaning forward.

“Henry Acosto,” he replied walking right into the web where he’d be devoured. “Can you-.”

“Kirht,” I said. “Veet. I am not here to hurt you unless you give me a reason to. Understood?” The man’s eyes went wide at his body moving against him. He nodded in fear. I meant him no harm, yet now I did wish to hurt him. One thought of Accor and the craving dissipated. I would not be like him. “Zime.”

“Are you him?” he asked avoiding my eyes. “I’ve heard of you. You make people kill their families and friends just by speaking those strange words of command. Please, don’t hurt my children.” Of his own volition, the man bowed forward until his forehead touched the dirty wooden floor.

“I’m not HIM,” I said. Accor was too well known in Ahedis for his dark behavior and now that I was what he was then, I received his built-up hate and fear. In the end, I wasn’t able to kill him myself, but the old man was no more. “I AM like Accor, but I am NOT him. Your family will not be harmed. I promise you that. I am here under the Karta seal, not of the wordsmithing way. Stand, please.” I could have ordered him to stand, but he needed to trust me. Henry stood up and bowed again.

“I apologize for questioning you,” he said. “I shall gather my wife Nirona and my family in the dining room for you. Follow me.” A woman came into the corridor.

“Honey?” she asked her husband. “Is everything ok? Who is that man?” It would be better if she couldn’t talk. I meant no harm to them, but my practice would embarrass some.

“Kirht,” I said. The woman’s jaw locked and her eyes panicked, but Henry backed m up.

“No, no, Rona,” he said. “He’s not him. He’s with the Karta.” Henry looked to me. “Please, release her. You’re just scaring her and if you aren’t here to hurt, it shouldn’t be necessary.” Smart poor people got on my nerves sometimes. I could have had the woman on her knees giving her husband the best job of his life in seconds, but I thought back to my life with the old man. In the end, it wasn’t his fault. He was groomed to be what he ended up. I would not be like him, though it was tempting. One day, I would snap and surrender to my juvenile urges.

“Zime,” I said. The woman’s jaw trembled in fear as Henry caught her. They whispered something between themselves. I hoped they did not mean to run or attack me. That would only force my hand, or rather my word. “I’ll wait in the dining room. Please have everyone there at once.”

While sitting there, I considered leaving them alone, but I needed practice. I wanted to use some new words on Kei. She loved being controlled by me. I haven’t messed around with her emotions at all. She just loved that my words could make her do anything I wanted. There was a weirdness to that girl, but at least she accepted me for who I was groomed to become. Henry walked in with his wife and children.

“Erkhem, my name is Henry,” he said and exchanged a look with his wife. “I make furniture for a living. My wife’s name is Nirona. She tends to the house and our children. The eldest is Marie. We’re hoping she finds a good husband and lives a simple life. Our second daughter is Anthiel, and our youngest son is Paul.”

For a poor man, he was doing well for himself. His eldest was a girl a few years older than me. At her age, she must have been on the verge of starting a separate life away from her family. I was lucky to catch her still there. The mature proportions of her body tempted me to have her naked where she stood, but Accor left mental scars on that part of my brain.

The two other kids were about ten. Those would be boring to play with. It was too obvious none of them wanted to be there, and yet the young boy smiled. There was something in him that reminded me of my brother, Sedi. A pang of guilt hit me with a memory and I couldn’t stop myself.

“Kes,” I said at the boy. With everyone else’s gasp, the boy turned around. I could not look at him right now. “He’ll be fine, just reminds me of my dead brother.” I could see sweat bead on the man’s forehead. If this man was brave, the combo with smart and poor would be volatile.

“Right,” Henry said and motioned for me to sit. I looked at the offered seat, a shabby chair of old wood and looked back at him. “Just don’t hurt my boy.” Why did he have to say that? His mouth was pumping fear into the room that I did not want.

“Paul, huh?” I asked. “Zime. I’m sorry about that, pal.” When the boy turned, he was no longer smiling. In fact, he took something out of his pocket and lunged at me. One of them had to have that idea. I was hoping it would happen too, just so I could test my reaction time. Henry panicked that I might kill he kid, but fear made people do crazy things. There was no need to take lives without a cause.

“Ing Paq,”I said. The small pocket blade stopped centimeters from my chest. If he wasn’t paralyzed, he might have a surprised look on his face. Instead, his body just shook, ignoring all messages his brain was sending. “Veet. Aso Nix.” He dropped to his knees and let go of the knife to a stunned silence of the room.

“Oh no! Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Wordsmith,” Henry jumped in to defend his only son. “Please don’t hurt him. He’s just scared, we all are.”

“Honestly,” I said picking up the small knife. “What is a ten-year-old doing with a knife in their pocket?”

“I carve,” Paul said through his teeth. The anger in his eyes was powerful.

“Zime,” I said. “Veet. Now stay while I talk to your family. I did not come here to hurt anyone, you know, but if you provoke me, there might be some pain.” Henry was about to speak, but he’d done his part. “Kirht, please.”

“Why did you come here then?” Paul asked. “Don’t you know a person like you only brings fear anywhere they go? Leave!”

“Don’t make me shut you up too,” I said. Henry was moving around too much. “Veet. Henry, really? Please don’t interrupt. Anyone else?” Nirona, and Anthiel remained quiet and tried to avoid my eyes. Marie on the other hand stared me down until I smiled.

“What do you want, freak?” She asked.

“I’m only here to practice,” I said. “You don’t get to be a good wordsmith without practice. For this purpose, I needed some simpler minds to work with. I require common folk much like you.

“I could make you, Marie, tear off all your clothes and embarrass yourself in front of your family with just a few words, but that I can do with the Kartas. Though, I must say, you have a stunning body I’ve been imagining naked. Don’t fear that. I will not do so.

“I could have your younger daughter pick up that carving knife and have her kill you all against her will, but that is not my goal. Those things I may use in a battle. I’m here to practice the little stuff, restraint above all.” I looked at Henry crying. His imagination got the better of him. The only person whose face remained unchanged was Marie. It was a blend of anger and excitement. She looked ready to tear my clothes off, but perhaps only to kill me. I smiled at her mixed feelings.

“Since I’ve already put you in the spotlight,” I said. “Why don’t we talk about what you really want, Marie. Please act civilized, everyone, unless you want to be bound Zime Artocan.”

“What do you mean?” Nirona asked. I turned to meet Mari’s eyes again.

“You don’t want to just be a housewife, do you?” I asked. “If there is ever a time, it would be now. All of you could be dead a few days from now, who knows?” Marie grimaced and turned to her parents.

“As cruel as this guy is, he has a point,” she said. “I want to travel the world, Dad. This quiet life isn’t for me. I know we’re poor, but that’s what I want from my future. I’m sorry.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “Now that you opened yourself up to your folks, the real fun can begin. Veet Artocan.” The whole family dropped to their knees. I came up to Henry and made him move around a bit to test my control over a childish body. His mother was about to protest, but I already had something special planned for her.

“Ok, Nirona, Kirht,” I said. I pulled off a red ribbon from my wrist and tied it around hers. “You will enjoy this, trust me. Perhaps the young shouldn’t be awake for this. Coo. Coo.” Anthiel and Paul slunk to the ground. Understandably stupid, Nirona panicked.

“They’re asleep, don’t worry,” I said. “That ribbon is something different. Here. Zime. Veet. Aso Oob. Tro…” The hand with the red ribbon made a slight movement and slipped itself between her legs. She gasped at the touch of her own hand against her baby maker. She was resisting the pleasure, but not for long. The ribbon would amplify her touch sensitivity. Before Nirona started to moan, I came up to Marie.

“Zime,” I said. “Do you hate me?” I waited as she stood up. The first moan from her mom made her grimace.

“Can we please leave?” she asked.

“Lead the way,” I said. As I passed Henry, I put him to sleep. I left Nirona on a timer to enjoy herself and headed up behind Marie. “You never answered if you hate me.” We stood at an open door to her room.

“Oh, I SO hate you,” she said, but the fire in her eyes told a different tale. “I hate you so very much that it hurts, it burns.” I walked in, sat on her bed and looked at her in the doorway.

“Show me.”




End Cycle (5)




By the last few months of his life, Accor was weak. Using the words of emotion to grow younger proved difficult. It was a ritual that preyed on people without any love in their hearts. They had to have suffered at each stage of life with a heavy craving for death being the only emotion remaining. Even the poor had love. Anna turned out to be a fortuitous example of nature.

Accor stopped bedding every woman around a little under two years ago. I assumed his pipes finally stopped working. I was now his caretaker, but as long as he had breath, he could command me. As much as I wanted to be the one who killed the old man, watching him slowly waste away was just as pleasant. He didn’t make it easy to hate him around this time of astounding vulnerability. The more I tended to him, the less he used his words of command on me.

I learned a great amount of the language he used to command, and wrote books full of them to use, if I ever got to. I wondered if he used some sort of item to make these words into the white hot bolts they felt like in use, but while taking care of him, I found nothing of that nature. The less he could do, the saner this old man felt. I had to relive bad memories of him to keep myself from feeling bad for this dying human being.

“I’ve wronged so many,” he would mumble at times. “I need to hurt them more. I want to see them fear me, the nothing which they created. They will all serve under me.”

“Yes, yes, Accor,” I spoke. “You will find them all and force them to destroy the world. I know you can do it. I’ve lived with you as your servant too long to think old age would stop you.” Other times, the man was even kind, quietly accepting the help I provided in the final days. Use of voice threw him into coughing fits, but he need not command me anymore.

“Boy, tell me,” he said once. “What is your name?” Through the years spent with him, whenever I used my real name, Accor used the words to turn my fists onto myself. He was too old to attack me, but I still played along as if he could.

“Ano,” I replied. “My name is Ano.”

“No, boy,” he said. “You carry the name of Zisi. Your name is Atroano Zisi. Your family is important. Zisi eradicated the other wordsmiths and ceased the practice.” I was shocked, but he was only starting to uncover something secret. After a wild coughing fit and a drink of water, the old man went to sleep without saying anything more.

To think the Zisi family name played such an important role in the world made me wonder what happened and how long ago. The man was old, but having the Molten Words changed how his age was counted. How did the Zisi name vanish into the dirt? How did my family become wonderers? I needed answers from the old coot, but he was on his deathbed. I hoped he wouldn’t croak until I could get him talking.

In the morning, the old man was gone. A strange feeling hit me first. It was freedom. For the very first time, I was no longer a slave to an old man with magical words. His bed was a mess, and the room had signs of a struggle. Even if he resisted, his age would make him a baby in a fight. At first, I wondered whether to fear his disappearance or rejoice. The world had a great amount of people who hated him and now that his body was weak, the opportunity was too good to pass up.

I recalled the knowledge bomb he dropped last night. Even if he was an old, cruel man, I needed to get him back. How could I be his legacy if my words did nothing? His power was extraordinary and could do plenty good in the world. Would my past interfere with the golden idea to save people? These thoughts were getting out of hand. I had no way to know that I would become a wordsmith.

Besides the few awful things I knew about the old man like his hair color preference on female companions, I didn’t know much about him. There had to be something about his past in the locked cabinets by his bed. Seeing as he rarely left the house, there hadn’t been time to break into them and look through his personal stuff. When he still commanded me, Accor never let me near the cabinets, turning my body against me if I ever got too close. Now that he was gone, it was time to invade his privacy. I used a metal pin from the curtains to pick the heavy lock.

The top drawer of the cabinet was filled with pictures. Images stilled with light onto parchment. The technology was around for a long time now, but I never had the chance to use such a device. As most pictures were of his sexual exploits, I had to dig around to find a few normal ones. The resided in a word seafoam green box and depicted Accor when he was younger. The people surrounding him were having fun, but his face was always captured cold. None except one photo had anything written on the back. It was a name, Elyla. This wasn’t the old man’s handwriting. I wondered who she was to him. Her embrace in the photo said it all, but Accor did not respond to the obvious physical flirt.

In the second drawer down, I found strange objects. One resembled a quill, but the feather part was far too long. I didn’t know much about rals, but this was no common winged molt. It curled up into a ring when I touched it and I could not unwind it again.

“It won’t obey you yet,” a voice spoke behind me. In surprise, the stack of photos in my hand went flying as I tumbled backward to the bed. In the doorway, stood the very woman from the photo. She picked up one of the fallen pictures and smirked. “Huh. He finally got over his shyness. Accor was a weird kid back-a-ways. What are you, his plaything?” She pointed to a photo where I made a cameo in the corner.

“L-Legacy,” I managed while rubbing the bump on the back of my head. “I’m his legacy.”

“Well, then we’re all in trouble,” she said. The photo she held in her hand dropped into black ash without any fire. After that, her hand touched to her neck. “Wait here a moment.” Her hand turned into a bunch of white glowing veins and plunged into her neck to turn her whole body into the same network of veins. All of a sudden, I realized she was naked, but I could not look away. In a few seconds, she faded out of sight entirely, and I wondered if it was all just my imagination. The bump told me it wasn’t.

While I waited, I decided to continue my search of the cabinets. Beside the strange objects made up of what I hoped was wax and the coiled up quill, was a book. Inside, I found notes on the words of command Accor used. “Kirht.” I looked at the word in great hate and smudged it with sweat. The ink felt fresh as the word smudged and sank into the paper. Hours passed of me reading all the words, careful not to blur the ink, but Elyla did not return. At the back of the book, I understood what the strange wax objects existed for. They were preserved human beings.

The varied in shape, color and feel, but the back of the book had symbols corresponding to ones on the objects. I looked over one particular waxy object that had a sweet smell to it. The symbol on it was a circle sliced at an angle with a four-pointed star inside. There was a symbol in the book to match that object, and when I found it, my fingers ran over the symbol down to the name.

“Sikaria,” I said out loud. At the words, the cube of pleasant waxy scent grew warm, then hot steam shot out of the cube’s corners in an instant. My mind reacted quickly, tossing the object away before it scolded the hand holding onto it. Before the cube hit the ground, it expanded into a full person, standing there clothed in wild clothes of the same color as the cube was originally. The dirty purple robes flowed with every motion of her body as if suspended in water. The woman turned to me and smirked.

“Melted some empty hearts, have you, Accor?” she asked. Something about her wasn’t right. The robes moved as if she had control of them, as if her limbs. “Now that you’re young again, you can taste my fruit again, oh wordsmith you.” Before I could get a word out, the surface robes came off and hovered in the small space. Beneath the purple, she had white wrappings over beautiful dark skin. MY hands were on her before I could restrain myself. Urges I stuffed away, surfaced again, channeling blood to select areas in preparation.

In a moment, I was floating and so was she while slowly shedding the white ribbons off her body. Something glowed green beneath her at her stomach. I was enjoying myself too much to notice, but two others had walked into the room.

“Ako Tih Tooma Sikaria Poka Dos Tan Izbiran!” The old man’s raspy voice bellowed at the creature who was certainly not a woman in front of me. As heat left the room, the seductive female compacted back into the misshapen cube it once was and dropped to the ground. Before my face touched down to the same surface, I felt a hand catch my neck and put me down gently.

“Accor,” the strange lady from before said. “Be more careful with your ‘legacy’. He almost freed one of your servants.” The old man said nothing, but looked at me with angry eyes.

“You’re my servant, too, Elyla,” he spoke and started coughing. A cup of water extended from my hand before I realized. He took it to calm his deteriorating voice.

“What was that thing?” I asked. I’ve forgotten how asking a question felt. Often, the old man said that one word of command to lock my voice away. “And who is she? How do you make words do anything? How-?”

“Kirht!” Accor said. I felt the tightness in my throat so often, bracing against the feeling came naturally, but nothing happened.

“Uhh…” I said in disbelief. His word of command failed to bind me. Before I could gloat, my hand had a mind of its own and held my throat closed. It wasn’t the old man’s doing, but he said something to command the strange woman to stop. The pressure left my throat to my relief.

“No, Elyla,” he said. “It’s time. I’m nearing the end of my time. Ano may very well be the legacy he decided that he is.”

“Oh, Accor,” Elyla said. “Don’t leave me alone. Everyone else is gone now. I don’t want to be the last one from the group around. Free me, Accor. Let me die before you go.” I wanted to ask questions, but decided to keep watching.

“I love you,” he said. “That’s why I brought you back. Now I must recall you, Elyla. Ano will need you very soon. I’m sure of it. He’s a Zisi, you know?” Her eyes went wide at the mention of my family name.

“Scrawny for a Zisi, isn’t he?” she asked.

“So was I at first,” Accor said. “Do I need to force you back?”

“No, Accor,” she kissed his old lips and whispered something into his ear. “And you, boy, see you soon. She stood away from the man and made her hand into white veins of pulsating light.

“Ako Tih Tooma Elyla,” Accor spoke. In that instant, the room became cold even if outside the sun was shining in summer heat. A similar object as before dropped to the floor, but with a white corner. Her symbol was a hand made up of branches with thorns. The old man was already at the book, drawing the symbol in for her and Sikaria with the quill. The uncoiled feather extended almost to the ceiling, standing up as if alive. The book closed shut, and Accor collapsed onto his bed, already asleep. The many questions I had would have to wait given the fact that the old man didn’t disappear in the night again.

While doing the regular chores around the house, I thought back to the word I smudged in the book. Was that all it took to stop a word o command? The tome did not look like anything special, but that could have been the item which made those words do something. As I lay in bed at the end of day, I noted down all the words I heard the man speak when returning Elyla and Sikaria back into the strange, misshapen, waxy cubes. What did he mean that he brought her back? Back to life? What was she? I recalled the words most used and faded off.

The morning came through the tiniest gaps in my eyelids to burn with light. Accor was sleeping in a chair beside my bed, the feather quill coiled around his wrist, shifting as if it was breathing. How could a feather be alive? What sort of ral did it come off of? Accor stirred and sat up, feather uncoiling to place itself into the space between his fingers, ready to write.

“Accor?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said. This felt different. Where did he get all the energy? Most days at his age were spent sleeping while I took care of the house. “First of all, this is Pheo. He’s a Doknaton and my servant. We used to call them ‘knats’ for short.” It took me a while to see the tiny creature in the palm of his hand.

“The knats are old, far older than human beings,” he continued. “They’ve long since buried themselves in the core of the world, damn near indestructible. Pheo is the reason I’m full of youthful pep, but it won’t last long. I know, I know, questions, but wait till I explain the basics.” I nodded slowly and watched as the round little creature rolled up Accor’s arm and perched on his shoulder. It had no mouth or eyes, just sort of bounced in place without actually lifting off the surface. The bright green of it made it look rather happy.

“I’m a wordsmith and anyone can be one,” he said. “There are nine types of words. You know of two: Command and Emotion. There are also: Persuasion, Destruction, Life, Wisdom, Inspiration, Death, and Freedom. They divide into three types: Aggressive, Restorative, and Passive. It’s all a lost art, as I focused only on words of command to fulfil my desires. They are the simplest of the aggressive type to use.”

“Wait,” I said. “What was Elyla?”

“A mistake on my part,” he replied. “I tried to bring her back with some words of life, but as you saw, she was no longer human. I will go over the servants in due time. We must get through the basics while I’m still under Pheo’s influence.”

“Half-time,” Pheo said with a creepy mouth of white teeth and made a little dance around Accor’s neck.

“This is the last feather of a Djetin avian, long used for forming,” he said. “If they still existed, you would have to go obtain one, but thanks to other wordsmiths, this species is extinct, so you will be inheriting this quill from me. The book is nothing special, but the ink is blood of another servant. You must refill the quill with the blood to form new words and reseal servants. His name is Zolt.” I waited for one of the objects to come to life at the sound of the name, but nothing happened.

“He’s not coming out,” I said watching the open drawer of the waxy objects.

“To release one, one must smudge their design and call their name,” Accor explained. “That’s also how you erased the voice thief, or Kirht.” I felt a recoil tightness in my throat at the mention of the word, but no pressure shut my jaw. It was ineffective.

“That’s very weak,” I said.

“Yes, it is,” the old man said. “The book is a weakness of which you must tell no one, not even those you love most. Without the formed words, I’m just a dying old man.”

“Quarter to go!” Pheo called out.

“Listen,” Accor said. “You must form your own words of command to use them. With the use of the quill. Even though I was force-fed the words I used by my master, you can create your own, a style of words you connect with. Now you know the basics, Zolt’s blood into the Djetin quill and secret book of formed words. I can die at last.”

“Die?” I asked. “Why? Tell me about the past! Tell me about my family! You have more to tell me, old man, and you OWE ME!” He just smiled and closed his eyes.

“Time’s up!” Pheo called out.

“Go forth, Ano,” Accor said. “Be the best you can be. Tell Elyla that I’m sorry.” The green puff of green that Pheo was grew around the old man’s neck like moss.

“I take payment now,” Pheo said and opened a jaw wide to enclose Accor’s head in the green fluff. “One essence of life, yum!” I ran to get the book and reseal Pheo, but when I returned, he was a small green orb again, glowing lightly from the inside and sitting on the old man’s corpse.

“Why did you kill him?” I asked.

“He entered into the deal willingly,” Pheo said. “I only collected the payment. I was sad he ordered me to take the deal, too. Accor fed me bunches when he was younger.”

Teas filled my eyes, but I took the quill and wrote the words he said recently, “Ako Tih Tooma.” I should not have ben sad. The man was evil a while back, but now he was just a dead elder.

“Ako Tih Tooma Pheo,” I said and drew what I thought his symbol ought to be, a jaw with sharp teeth. The Doknaton compacted to the size of a nut. I was a wordsmith now, and the old man was dead, yet I felt no joy, no euphoria at the thought. I sat in the empty room with an equally blank mind. What was I supposed to do with this new knowledge? For now, I had lay the old man to rest like the old days, with flame and gorund.

I waited out the rest of the day as per tradition. The wonderers often buried their own together, but the old ways dictated to burn the dead in a dug grave and cover them up once the fire died down. The next day went by with digging and burning. Once the old man was in the ground, I drew myself a bath and though back to what he explained.

The quill responded to me this time, but a few strokes emptied the remaining ink. To draw more I needed to release the servant named Zolt. The idea was dangerous, as I had no way of sealing him back up. Nonetheless, I found his symbol and the corresponding blue waxy bar. The symbol was a hammer, with a sword coming out of the top. Below the vertical joining of two weapons was a bow, broken in two in a splintery way. I had no way to defend myself if Zolt was aggressive.




I Own You (2)




With stolen clothes, and steam-cleaned skin, I went off to look for work in the town of Girhit, a Doit region. The beauty of being a wonderer was the amount of dialects absorbed by travel. Ango was winning out in most places across Ahedis, but Frou and Doit still fought the hardest. Among the fray were all the crazy dialects us wonderers learned: Liat, Pash, Nech, Cend, Sinu and more only differing a little from the main. Knowing the basics of each opened me to possibility. I could translate for a foreign official, or help out at an exotic restaurant. All I knew was that wondering killed the rest of my family, and I wanted somewhere to settle down and live a simple life in the time of war.

I aimed my hopes at older folks, seeing as I helped out my parents before they died. The elderly were likely to need assistance, and if I was nice enough, I could even inherit a house for myself. Looking back, that positive attitude put me in harm’s way, but even if changing the past mistake, since there was a chance later on, would change my whole existence. No person in their right mind would choose to screw around with all they have lived through just because of a single mistake way back. It was death in the dumbest way possible, being replaced by a better version.

The stolen clothes were nothing special, but at least I didn’t look like a wanderer. What I needed to work on was my wit and charm. I had to prove myself to the whole town of Girhit so that it became my home and people enjoyed asking me for help. I headed to learn of the worst places to work in town, and turned them around over months. I was gaining repertoire, the Frou word for statue, in creating a better town with my child-like spirit. Nothing could stop this wonderful growth, except perhaps one old man who destroyed it all.

I heard about him in a tavern, a man living on the outskirts of the town, hated by many. When inquiring about him, people pleaded for me not to go to him. They spoke ridiculous tales of the man being a demon, with a tongue of evil. The more I asked, the more concerned the folks I already knew became. It was decided. I had to go to this old man and make him see the light, let him be liked in the town of Girhit the same way they all embraced me. I left to a crying few, eyes full of hope.

The small house wasn’t only on the outskirts of town, but also across a dark forest of dense trees. Such patches of nature were good for wonderers to sleep in, but I was no longer one of them. Even if I encountered a group, going around them was the best option. No wonderers were around, but I did see a young girl, glowing brightly white in the darkness. Following her with disbelief, I found the house, but she was gone. My determination reignited at the door with three loud knocks. The door swung inside as an old man supporting himself on a cane appeared. He looked up and motioned to come inside without a word.

“Hello, sir,” I said walking behind him. “What’s your name?” The man stopped, turned and opened one eye wide, looking directly into mine.

“It is polite to introduce yourself first,” he said in a grunted voice. “You can call me Accor, young one, and you are?” I hesitated. Few of the people in the town have told me not to speak my name as the demon would have control over me the second he heard it. I could not believe what they told me. He was just a rickety old raisin of a man.

“My name is Atroano Zisi,” I said. “Friends call me ‘Ano’. You’re welcome to, as well.” The old man looked away and tightened his grip on the cane.

“Zisi…” he spoke. “Have a seat. I will be right with you.” I sat on a rocking chair, realizing that it was made entirely of stone. I marveled how delicate the construction must have been as the man walked back in.

“From this day on,” he said. “Your name is Ano. You only tell this name to people, not your true name. Do you understand?” I almost laughed. He spoke to me as if I was his puppet and he was my master.

“Wha-.” I started.

“Kirht!” he said, stopping my mouth from motion. I panicked. It felt as if my jaw became a glued section of my skull. I couldn’t speak or move my lips at all.

“A nod will do,” the old man said. I nodded slowly. “Very good. Now then, what you are feeling now is an overwhelming fear that what the folks in town told you is true, that I am a demon with an evil tongue. The truth is much simpler. I am an old learned man, and you, just like all the others in the town, are stupid, illiterate fools who need to know their place.

“This must not mean much to you, but one thing you need to know from this point on is that I own you, Atroano Zisi. You will do all I tell you for the fear of me and what I can do to you. Do you understand?” I forgot I could not speak and mumbled something in response. This wasn’t going so well. I had to escape this house before I became a slave to this old impossible man. When he looked away, I made a break for it.

“Veet!” he said and my legs betrayed me, crumpling into kneeling position. I looked down and pushed to free them, but I had no control over those appendages anymore.

“Everyone tries to run at first,” the old man said. “Your body is only yours when I tell you it is. I have control over it now.”

The old man walked to my side and put his cane over my shoe. The wood pierced the leather sole and my foot for a moment as I twitched in pain. I screamed, but with my jaw locked, it came out muffled.

“This pain will be your memory of disobedience,” he said. “When the wound heals, you will look at it and remember why you aren’t going to run.” He turned his head to a doorway. “Anna! Tend to this boy, then prepare yourself in my bed!” He left, hobbling past a girl in dirty clothes. She rushed to me and cleaned the wound. Her skin had bruises and cuts all over. I tried to speak, but mumbled inside my mouth.

“Heh,” she said. “Yeah, that doesn’t go away just because he’s not here. I’m Anna, but I guess you already knew that, him shouting and all. I’m his servant, one of four. There are two guards, one cook, and me, a maid of all trades.” I pointed to her, folded my hands into a pillow and pointed to where he went off. I meant to ask if he was forcing her to sleep with him, but she misunderstood.

“I understand, you need rest,” she said. I shook my head, but she tightened a bandage on my foot and pain coursed through my body. “I’ll put you in my cot for now. I won’t be sleeping in it tonight anyway.”

I wanted to fight for her, attack the old man, kill him maybe. Anger raged within me, but Anna left. In a few minutes, a butch guy came into the room and moved me to Anna’s cot. As he put me down, I found an array of scars on his back that could have only been from whipping.

“Don’t get too attached to Anna, boy,” he said in a deep grim voice. “We’re all disposable property to Accor.” He left me in pain of healing as I tried to figure a way out of this, or even to combat the monster this one man was. I needed to know more about his abilities. It was debilitating enough that he could say two words to silence and paralyze my legs, but how far did it go? I needed to observe his life for a while before creating a plan.

In time, I became his servant for real, witnessing his horrible treatment of others, especially women. Once my foot healed, I was his favorite puppet and he made me do a great deal of horrible things. Townsfolk came to Accor’s house looking for me, to save me, but never left. Once the old man found out they knew my full name, he made me take their lives, or did it himself. I resisted as much as possible, breaking down in tears when he made me hurt Anna or do even worse things to her. I was his toy to play with, while all figments of my imagination were spent on plotting how to kill the man, only to be brought lower in hope. In my eyes, and in my heart, I remained defiant, angry, with hope I would exact my revenge one day.

An older lady from the town came around once, calling out to me by name. From her, Accor withdrew information before having her take a hammer to her own head. He learned that many folks in the town of Girhit knew my name. He had Anna sketch a picture of me and left. Only later did I find out what he did. The town’s population was reduced to only those who did not know my family name. I lamented in remembrance of all who I befriended, kids and older folk alike. Accor ended their lives without pause, commanding their own bodies to betray them.

This event broke me for a time. My hopes and defiance was shattered, but she rebuilt me. The only woman who I seek to this day. I fear even naming her, for it has power over me still, a weakness of the heart I thought to be dead. Her story coincides with mine only for a short time, but I will forever love her being, and seek her eternal.




The Big Picture (9)




I stood in the room stunned by the amount of knowledge coursing within me. The old man was burned and in the ground, eliminating my only source of information. The feather of a Djetin avian coiled up empty o ink. The book of words that did not belong to me was taunting me with the last remnants of Accors existence. I could erase all his words, claim new ones to command with, but I glorified those he spoke to once use against him. It was a tongue I hated, but it was a part of me now.

Before I could do anything with these words, I had to erase everything Accor wrote in the book. This meant reading all that he wrote over the years of his dark life. My plan was to learn and copy down any new words in my book, to understand how to use them effectively, before committing the tome to nothingness.

With Anna dead, the guards gone, and the house cook released, the house beyond the forest stood empty for me alone. It became my home for the first time since I was enslaved. This new feeling sprung from my eyes as tears of joy, or maybe it was sadness at the years of my youth spent as a prisoner to magic, but in time they stopped. All the madness I saw here, built up like a noise in my ears and popped silent. It was time to learn, and do more with Accor’s power of command. From who could I learn more? I could only think of one name, Elyla, but releasing her would be a danger to me. I had no command to defend myself.

She was a being of the book, yet the old man knew her as a human. Could I trust her sadness to connect? While debating between Zolt and Elyla, I dove into the old man’s book. The spine and cover proved unattached, making me wonder. I put the hard shell to my own notebook expecting a hostile takeover, but nothing happened. It was a nice thin to hope for. If my notebook became words of command, it would save me time. I opened both on the table, and began reading the old man’s first words, a sort of proclamation of intent.

“I enter my name here willingly so that it may be erased from existence until a time that I am dead. Allen Tisch. If the name above is visible, can be spoken and written, then this book of power has lost its master. I only hope the person who possesses it now will suffer as much as I did. This is a tome of fear, a bound death sentence, and the path to a very lonely life indeed, or so I have been told by my master, Tenement Accor.”

In the tome, Accor or Allen, created a division for all types of instructive words. The first chapter contained the basics of thought, simple controls over people with short quips about how he used them for the first time. There were also side notes of warning about pronunciation. Beyond, existed detailed chapters of total body control breakdown, from internal systems, to sexual drive manipulation. Just reading some of the descriptions made me lust for the lost adolescence, but they were his words, used on Anna, Larna, and his other servants to do vile things to each other. As much pleasure as I got imagining the use of these words, they made me sick to my stomach. He would make me watch at times as Anna fought not to feel pleasure from the forced acts.

I threw the book down many times, upset at times he used certain words, but always gathered it up again. The last chapter before the pages of sealed servants was on death and the countless ways of killing people, or having them do the deed themselves. I almost threw up at one description. It was an instruction on torture, the slowest possible death involving self-cannibalism and sexual euphoria. As I went along, I noted down all I could in my own journal. By the end, I felt so mentally spent, that releasing Elyla felt a sane endeavor. Who else could help me with this new burden?

I found the drawing of a hand made up of thorny branches, and hesitated. Elyla did not know that Accor was dead. She was once human, therefore she was likely to grieve, but who else could I speak to of this? I remembered Sikaria’s unraveling sensual body and felt tempted, but had no idea what she was or what she could do. Did the old man have her in there for purely sexual favors? My imagination got the best of me as I pictured myself in a romantic embrace of that floating woman. In my fantasy she unraveled naked and held me in her hands, then in her mouth until the sweet release. Right after, she was gone from my mind, and the decision to release Elyla was set.

“Elyla,” I said while smudging the hand of branches. The blur sand into the page and a drawer of servant blocks rattled. I cursed, realizing I didn’t take her out. The cube was already steaming hot, but I took it out just in time to have her appear. She turned to me and smiled.

“Had yourself a bit of fun, did ya?” she asked pointing to my unbuttoned pants. “Just tell me you didn’t go off on the book.”

“Accor is dead,” I said but didn’t wait for a response. “I burned and buried him behind the house. He made a deal with Pheo, the Doknaton, for his life essence.” I waited for a response from her, but her face remained the same.

“And?” she asked. “Does this mean you can free me from this curse?”

“Free you?”

“All you have to say is: Kelne Achi Pirip,”she said. “I will be forever grateful in death.” Accor held her life as a servant, but I needed her as a friend, someone to help me become a wordsmith better than the old man ever was or could be.

“I can’t free you, Elyla,” I said. With an angry grimace, her whole body turned into white branches with thorns, shifting and flexing within. “I need you right now, but I promise I will free you after you help me. Please consider it, it won’t take long.”

“A bonding agreement then,” she said fading back into human form. “If you break this deal, I will siphon your youth myself and leave you to die. Agreed?” I nodded.

“What is Sikaria?” I asked at once. Elyla smiled a wicked smile.

“Have you tasted her fruit yet?” she asked. “No, I bet you haven’t. As you may imagine, die to her beauty, she is an object of sexual desire, but she’s just an old procreation goddess from worlds beyond. You need not concern yourself with her until you have tasted a woman, of your own choice at least. She will smell inexperience on you and drain your future. Got any better questions?”

Instead of asking, I picked up the coiled feather quill.

“It’s empty,” I said. Her expression changed to a grimace.

“Zolt,” she said. “You need his blood. I hate dealing with him the most. What do you have so far, just the basics?” I said nothing, only tilted my confusion.

“Have? Of what?” I asked.

“Words of Command, dummy,” she replied. “You need them to control Zolt. He’s a very rambunctious one. So? What have you got?”

“Nothing right now,” I replied. “I need his blood to get started. That’s why I released you first.” She smiled an evil smile, turned to white branches and moved to me in an instant. A white vine wrapped itself around my neck as her branched face neared mine.

“You mean I can wring your little neck and you can’t do anything to stop me?” The vine tightened, then released me.

“Only if you want to be a servant forever, Elyla,” I said. “I promised to release you. You only need to help me for a little while.” She faded back to human form.

“Very well,” she said. “Unbind Zolt. I’ll deal with him.” I smiled looking at her, but she turned away from my gaze. In my eyes, I just made a friend. Zolt was in the very first few pages of the book of servants at the back of the tome. The hammer and sword with a broken bow underneath was his symbol for now, but I had no idea how it related to him at all. I would have to make a symbol for myself when sealing him again.

“Zolt,” I said while smudging his symbol, but nothing happened. Elyla looked over to the drawer and back at me. “Oh, right!” I rushed to the waxy blocks, but none were activating. The blue bar that had Zolt’s symbol was still. The symbol recreated itself from the smudge.

“Like I thought,” Elyla said. “He’s not acknowledging your call. Contrary to other servants, Zolt likes being sealed away. Gimme.” I hesitated. Did she know how to release herself using the book? I couldn’t risk it. I needed her help understanding these things.

“Zolt,” I said louder, smudging the symbol once again and this time holding the blue bar in my hand. “Come out and see Elyla.” The jet of hot air hit my cheek as the waxy object left my hands in a cloud of mist. A blue hand pierced the mist, grabbing Elyla’s.

“Oh my dear Elyla,” the voice said. “How fair you still look. Time has been kind to you. How many years has it been since I saw you last?” Elyla threw his hand away as the naked blue man stepped out of the mist. A part of the white cover always obstructed his crotch wherever he moved. Other than the strange skin color, he looked human.

“I’d say about fifty years, give or take a decade,” she replied. He tilted his head.

“How?” he asked. In response, Elyla’s body turned to white vines. “That old bastard! He made you into a servant? Where is he? I’ll kill him!”

“Too late,” I said. “He’s already dead and buried.” Zolt pointed a finger in my direction.

“Who’s he pipsqueak?”

“Accor’s Legacy apparently,” she said. “Sorry to be all down to business, but the Djetin needs to feed. Do you mind?” Zolt shrugged as Elyla pierced his blue skin with the feather. As it filled, the length uncoiled, lighting up in an array of colors until the tip that glowed with a golden shine.

“He’s dead, huh?” Zolt asked. “Does that mean we can finally die?” I cringed at the hopeful desire to die. Why would they feel this way? How old were they?

“Forgetting his ‘legacy’?” Elyla asked. Zolt looked over and changed form. He became a strange orange blob and then a yellow creature with three arms and eight tentacles.

“A Tisyros? Really?” she asked. “Can you even consume hearts in the form? Show him your true self instead.” On cue, the orange orb formed again and bubbled into a puddle. From the pool of water on the floor, walked out a crystal of sort. The water coursed within the confines, different hues in different parts of the bipedal body. Ten knobs existed on the torso, but he had no head or arms. One of the knobs created an eye, and another a mouth. Before Zolt could say anything, I redrew his symbol as best I could, wrote the words Accor said to seal Sikaria and spoke them out loud to seal Zolt back into the bar of blue.

“Wow, harsh,” Elyla said. “You might be his legacy after all.” I looked at her for a moment and sealed her too without another word. With the quill refilled, I could lay down the basics for my own words of command. Once I had those, I would be at nobody’s mercy.

Atop writing the simple commands that the old man used to control me, in my own notebook, I added a few words tailored to my specific needs, such as speaking truth. With the groundwork done, I called out Elyla again. The quill had just enough left to reseal her. Zolt I could handle with the basics. Before she could speak, I cut in.

“Kirht!” I said looking at her. She mumbled for a moment then extended her middle finger at me. I had no idea what it meant, but felt offensive. “Zime!”

“I see you made yourself some words of command,” she said. “You know you don’t need to use them on the servants, right? We do-.”

“I have a question for you,” I interrupted. “Aro Liro. Did you love him? Did you love Accor?”

“Yes, when I was human,” she said visibly trying to stop herself from talking. “You evil piece of shit!”

“Did he love you?” I asked.

“Only at the end,” she replied. “That’s why he brought me back. As a servant, I have no love, I have no heart.” She turned to the white glowing branches and showed the space where a human heart would reside.

“What are you, as a being?” I asked.

“Firsoni,” she said. “A being of all the planes of existence.”

“Do you wish for freedom or for death more?”

“Freedom,” she said. “I want to learn what I am, what I can do, beyond this plane of existence.” I nodded.

“Then freedom you shall have,” I said. “Zime. You are free to come and go as you please. I leave you only with three commands. Do not kill. Do not die. Have fun. Do you agree?” Tears welled at her human eyes. She faded to white branches and then into nothingness like a ghost.

“I accept,” she said with a smile on the last visible part of her face. That took care of the problematic servant. Perhaps she would return, but I knew so little about her that I doubted it.

With the basics noted, and the quill once more refilled, I decided to practice my literary power of words of command. Who could I try it on first? To control a human, I needed to know their full name. Only a few existed with names known to all, the royals. I smiled. Their pride would turn them into my playthings. The Karta family of Ahedis Royalty was the closest. They would become my marionettes, a Frou term for puppets. I only needed to find one of them in private to get past the guards as a guest. The king would welcome me with open arms once he heard my words. I began my journey northwest to the Karta kingdom.




A Rich Bitch (2)




I became a servant to an old man and his words, but met someone who eased the pain. She was a real pain in the ass at first, but we had good times until she vanished. Now all I do is look for her, be she alive or dead. That’s my goal in the end, to know her fate. Isn’t that just sad? To me, she wasn’t just some fling, though we did quite a bit of flinging. Heh. The end.




What? You want to know more of the sappy romance between us? That’s my personal shit. Maybe I should just talk about all the wonderful things we did together. I’ll tell you what, all things about our sex life I’ll put in that sex story. All things romance will be in heart story. This one will cover the cycle of meeting her and going our separate ways. It’s going to be a bit of a fragmented wild ride, so hold on, eh?




I was fetching supplies and food from the town. Many of the good folk there lost loved ones to the culling of my name. Accor killed so man, but the remaining few upheld the small town. All knew my face as the reason for the deaths of their friends and family, and so nobody dared stay in my presence for long. This destroyed my chances of buying anything. Being under a dome of limited freedom by the old man’s commands, I returned to the house beyond the forest to report.

“I told you to buy things we need, boy,” he said seeing me come in with nothing in tow. Anna came out of his room naked and looked in my direction without shame to her nudity. I looked away, doing my best to banish those developing desires of my age. When I looked again, she was gone, and Accor was snapping his fingers to focus my attention.

“Veet!” he said dropping me to my knees. “If you are done oogling my servants, listen to me. I’m expanding your dome of travel to the city beyond the mountains. The way is dangerous, but Anna has traversed it many times before.” My heart leapt to my throat. Would I be going with her?

“You should have no problem,” the old man continued. “But just in case…” He came up and put a hand to my chest. The pressure increased from the inside until I couldn’t breathe. Accor whispered some words I didn’t catch and his hand pierced my body only to withdraw. In his hand was a glowing red orb. I had no idea what he did, as those were not words of command. No word of command could do such things. He put the red orb into a small box that Anna handed to him.

“What?” I managed to ask expecting him to make me stop talking.

“A year of your life,” he said. “You won’t miss it. This orb shared your existence. If you die out there, at least I’ll know. Now off you go. We need food. Zime.” In some ways, the old man was magic.

I was happy at first, having more freedom, but it was still as a servant. Testing the boundary proved painful as when I stepped closer, my body felt weak. Exiting the forest, the mountains revealed themselves to me. It looked impossible from the start, and I had a few close calls on the way on the way through them. A ledge gave way when crossing one part, and wildlife attacked me at another, but I survived the way to a beaten path. As I walked it, at the end of my resources, a voice called out behind me. I ignored it until it got louder, or was it closer? I turned just in time to jump out of the way of a libil vessel.

“I tried to warn ya!” a man shouted as the orbs of the cart kicked up a plume of dust behind the carriage. There was a hand visible from the side window, young skin, but dangerously pale in the sun. The plume followed their motion to a big building in the distance.

The city around the castle was magnificent. Hundreds of vendors who never even heard of me worked in the square to peddle their goods. It was a new paradise for me. Exploring the layout gave me a good idea where to get the best prices. The libil carriage that I saw disappear in the distance made a stop in one of the squares and headed off to the castle. I wasn’t meant to go after it, only buy supplies, but I felt drawn to find out who that pale hand belonged to. Once the libils stopped, a girl of about my age stepped out from the carriage and looked directly at me, without even a sweeping gaze around. There was heat in her glance, and I hid behind a corner to cool off as she walked into the castle. I wanted to see the internal structures of the castle, now that I was clothed better than a wonderer. I’d always marvel how something could be built so tall and not crumble under its own weight. A weakness grabbed my body as I neared the guarded entrance. Just a few meters short, I could not go any further. The dome ended there. My body was wreaking havoc on my insides as I neared the guards.

“What- Her- Name?” I grunted at them, but could not stay any longer. I ran as if I just pulled a prank until my body felt lighter. What a terrible place this was for the boundary of the freedome. I couldn’t do anything to get inside that castle. My only option was to return to the task given to me by the old man.

While on my shopping spree, I could not get the golden eyes and caramel hair of the princess out my mind. She was wearing a pink dress with fluffy arm links. If I left here without knowing her name, then I deserved to be a servant to Accor forever. Something needed to be done or I would have to live with this regret for eternity.

“Heard you were asking about me,” a voice said next to me. I turned to find the very girl I was thinking about. Her eyes were even more golden up close. It was as if she had crowns in her eyes, the ultimate symbol of royalty. “I’m Edelneise, call me Nel. And you are?”

“Ano,” I said. “Pleased to mee-.”

“How much do you cost?” she interrupted.

“Sorry?”

“How much to BUY you?” she asked. “With those shifty clothes, you’re obviously a servant. So, how much to buy your services from your current master? I do my best to obtain many pretty faces, and you Ano, are quite a diamond in the rough.” I was stunned for a moment. She wanted to buy me as an object, not know me as a person. It was just like royalty to do something like that, but I hoped at my age she would still be a normal human. The roots of zeal began growing early on Nel.

“You can’t buy me,” I said. The old man would never allow it. I had no idea what it was about my real name, my family name, but I was being kept by him for that reason. The culling made that clear.

“My family has billions of saneks,” she said proudly. “We can buy anything. Everyone has a price. We make most of our-.” I put my lips to hers to make her shut up, or was it more than that? I didn’t understand my momentum for it, but the kiss felt nice. She was stunned for a moment after we parted, then wiped the back of her hand over her lips and spat.

“Filth!” she exclaimed. “You dare take my first kiss? You dare steal from the Doiteran Royalty? Guards!” That was my time to bolt. I ran without thought, without care, happy that I had stolen something from the snobbish royals. The feeling still lingered on my lips.

With shopping complete, I began my perilous journey home. No, not home. I would never consider being someone’s property as a place of comfort. My arms and hands were so exhausted from carrying what I couldn’t fit into the backpack, that I dropped everything right away when I got inside the house. There was a new person inside. I could hear her moans and grunts as Accor had his way with her. I stuffed some waxed cloth into my ears whenever it was Anna’s turn. I could not listen after a while. I became angry at times and barged in, only to have the old man hold Anna’s mouth closed while he finished up. Most often the whole horrible act excited my young mind, but I hated myself for it.

These new sounds were not Anna. I feared for what happened to her, rushing to her cot. She slept sound in her little corner, but opened an eye at me. We said nothing, only listened to the new girl scream at climax. I could not resist the young mind as the pressure grew between my legs. Anna was up in an instant, at my hips.

“I can help you with that, Ano,” she said wih a hand on the button. Her clothes slipped from her top, and I had to look away. “Why look away? Do you not find me beautiful?” A throb at her touch begged for more, but I resisted. My hands held her wrists and pulled the arms away from the unbuttoned pants.

“You don’t need to be that for me, Anna,” I said. Her hand remained where left as mine buttoned my pants back up. My adolescent brain screamed at me to take her, bend her, have my way, but it brought sadness to me that a girl this pretty was used in this manner. “You only need to be. You deserve a better life.”

“You’re a strange one, Ano,” she said.

“My name is Atroano Zisi, my lady,” I said kneeling. “I shall be the one to rescue you if it is the last thing I do. For now, I must take me leave. The master awaits us.” Anna smiled a small bit with her eyes. They were such kind eyes.

Accor was at the supplies already, with the new girl in full view. Her clothes told the story of her past, embroidery of royal houses, and displaced garments met with a blush on her cheek told of the present. She bowed in grace, pretending that nobody heard her whoring moans and screams in the next room.

“Boy, get these supplies onto shelves in the kitchen,” Accor said. “The lady Larna Sarin will be staying with us for some time, on loan from the Sarin royals of the south. Not that they had any choice in the matter.” I did not get to know the woman till later, and we became a sort of friends. She often said I reminded her of her young brother, and that she would protect me to the best of her ability. Even though, Accor had me watch her amidst sexual acts and had me join by words of command. I, and many others were just toys to his power, and our names forever the cause.

Next time I was sent for supplies to the city of the Doiteran Royals I still didn’t know the name of, I did not seek out the castle. Guards found me in the market and attempted to take me into the royal house for audience with Nel, but could not take me in by force until I passed out. The boundary by the old man, applied to my own conscious mind. With this one forceful act, I was free from the boundary. I awoke in a grand bed, curtained off by cloth on wooden pillars. Edelneise sat at my side and ran her fingers through my hair.

The moment I opened my eyes, she stood away and opened the pink curtains. The room was decorated with golden symbols and shapes, from wall patterns to chandeliers. It was a new sort of place, alienating, yet comfortable, as if I knew it from before.

“If I cannot buy you,” Nel said. “You will be mine by force. We had to bathe you, so trust me, I know all that you possess.” She smiled a wicked little smirk. I peeked under the covers ot find my body naked. The softness of the covers felt new and exciting, yet traitorous as it exposed such excitement to her eyes. She laughed.

“In time, Ano,” she said leaving the room.

I dressed myself in clothes provided as two lady servants watched, waiting to remake the bed. Wearing the fine clothing felt more exciting than standing there naked and clean. The mind only knew one mode for excitement, but the tight clothes hid it well. Guards outside escorted me to a large table with pretty girls and boys, sitting and talking. Nel clinked her glass to attention.

“Boys, girls,” she said. “My I present my new polished gem, Ano. He is for sale or trade, but I doubt any of you can afford him.” She laughed and some other girls joined her. I sat in this den of the rich and hated being treated as property that Nel offered. The food was extravagant and delicious, but I feared what Accor might do if he found me here. If he went looking for me, so many more people would die. I was the only deterrent that kept his insanity bottled to the small house in the forest. I stood up, silencing the room.

“I have to leave,” I said. Nel looked at me with anger. Her eyes shouted to sit back down, but she held no words of command over me, only armed guards. I was unprotected, unskilled, just a servant to a powerful man. No, I was just a boy. If I were to start thinking I was a servant, I would become it. I was a captive to something evil, and this was my chance to run, freed from the boundary set by the old man. Could he come after me if I ran?

“You are mine,” Edelneise said standing. “And you will remain here, as I command you.” I felt heat in my chest at the word “command”. I watched my body move, but had no control. It stood and walked toward the exit. When stopped by Nel, my body turned to look directly at her.

“You, little girl, do not control this boy,” I heard my mouth speak. It was Accor in my brain, commanding past the distance. “He belongs to Accor, the only wordsmith yet in existence. Do not anger me. Royalty is weakest to my words.” Nel boiled over, and motioned the guards onto me. I knew no way out of this, but it was not me in control. I could not close my eyes as my body danced between countless muscled up guards, knocking them out with a poke into their neck on the way out of the room. I exited the palace and was on the way out of the city itself when Nel caught up to me.

“Now return,” my voice spoke at nothing. “The boundary will shrink to nothing by the sun set, and you will die this time.”

“Ano!” Nel yelled in anger. She was by herself. I was back in the body, but felt the freedome shrink toward me. Without pause, I knocked her to the ground, softened the fall, and kissed her all the way down. She didn’t struggle, but grimaced.

“You cannot own me, dear Edelneise,” I said. “But perhaps you can get me to love you one day.” I was lying. My heart was hers the second I saw her. She just needed to become a person I wanted to love. A royal rich bitch who liked to own people was not who I wanted to pursue. I hoped she would change for me. Perhaps by that time, I would be free of Accor’s grasp.

I left Nel on the ground and escaped where I could breathe. The boundary was closing fast as the sun marched to the horizon in the mountains. I still needed to get back or face death by the freedome.




To Belong (7)




Thus ends the story of the last Wordsmith in existence. I do not regret keeping my skill from my kids. The line of those who talk in words of the nine is past with my dying breath. Along the way, I met others speaking words of the nine, but they did not turn to evil as my words of command did. Even Timmy, a human with Words of Destruction, only used them to protect. Perhaps his tale would be nice to hear, but I do not write his story. I write one to cast into the infinity void, a place I have never been, but heard great things of from Elyla.

Ah, yes. Them. They have been released, and are servants no longer. Half took their own lives for the horrors of Accor had them do, but perhaps it was just their time. I found-, ah perhaps you yet don’t know. I will tell you the end of my tale here, but for these words, this tale is endless.




The time had come. I was ready to shed all that the words of command had given me, starting with the wavy blocks of servants used in the past. All were extraordinary creatures of the world and beyond, but I could not let them remain servants to one who will not exist. The wordsmith ways would fade with me, but only of the most aggressive kind, Words of Command. Death and Destruction, or Margaret and Timmy, wielded the other words to help and protect. They never struck with speech as though molten steel with a hammer. Timmy only protected his village, and Margaret was an Angel of Death to those seeking relief.

How could I be the only evil in this world so tempted to do more bad? In my youth, I took what I wished, commanded others to their knees so that I could sit upon their thrones, have queens as my personal whores, and spread what evil the old man had put into me. Those days I fear most at the end of my own. I never tried to belong in this world. Perhaps only with Edelneise, but that is another story altogether.

In his fear of death, I wondered if the old man felt the same, when he was at my mercy. I’ve had kids, such innocent souls never knowing me for the awful things I’d done. They tended to me as I did to Accor, but I needed to end the existence of the words of command myself. They were now just a book upon my personal shelf, hidden to my family. Right on the shelf…

It was gone.

“Kirht!” I heard my grandchild say from the garden. I rushed outside as fast as my old bones could muster and found him standing in a clearing talking to a girl over the book of such awful memories. “Aso Kyn!”

“Leon! Put that down this instant!” I yelled. He only stuck out his tongue and ran, holding the words of evil. “Ing Paq!” The boy froze in place, but the girl kept going and dropped to the ground in Leon’s grip. I hobbled over to him. Shock on his face was welcome, but I hated myself. Little children held no fear of the old. I could put the fear of elders into him, but I did not dare. My daughter would never speak to me again.

“Zime,” I said after taking the book back. Leon dropped, letting go of the girl. She ran in fear of me. That could be a problem when she told her parents. “Sorry about your friend, boy. The words in this tome only work for me. I have to destroy it before I leave. Do you understand?” In that way, I would be fulfilling an old prophecy, much before my time and Accor’s.

The prophecy, as always, was a cause of great change. Most believed it from the get-go, but all gave in to persuasion over time. It stated that the family by the name of Zisi would be the end of the wordsmithing ways. This was back when the words of the nine were common in the world. Rather than the cautious culling of all possessing the name Zisi, the users of the words ignored the mad claim that their ways would end. One of my eldest servants, Elkefor, had told this tale to me once. Thanks to Elyla, I knew Accor’s tale and why he practiced such evil, but I won’t bore you with that. The tale is vast and takes away from me as the focus.

To make prophecy story short, wordsmiths were cocky, they got a beat down from the Zisi family, and died out, or almost. How did the Zisi defeat the wordsmiths, you may ask. It was a simple matter of-.

“Grandpa!” Leon called out. My eyes refocused to the present. The damn brat had the tome again. “What are these symbols on the back?” The boy lifted the book ot show me and smudged a drawing of a hand of thorny vines.

“Elyla,” I whispered. There was a commotion where the waxy object of her being resided and she appeared, in white vines as if a ghost. It had been such a long time since I last saw her. She bowed while turning human. I nodded with a smile. Her tale was also quite powerful, with her coming back when freed only to rejoin the service until I would release for good, but it was a story for quite another time.

“Cool!” Leon said and turned to smudge another one, but the others would be very upset to be called out while still in a drawer. Not that Elyla wasn’t, but she forgave a lot of my errors in the past.

“Ing Paq!” I said at Leon. He froze in place right before his finger touched the symbol of Pheo. Maybe just a bit of fear was fine. “Aso Poko Mik, Kes!” Leon’s arm rose. His hand grabbed onto his ear and turned twisting it painfully as I retrieved my book from his still body.

“Oww!” Leon called through his teeth.

“Teaching your grandkid the ways of the wordsmith?” Elyla asked.

“Zime,” I said releasing the boy. “Quite the opposite, Queen of White Thorn. I’m aiming to destroy the words of command in their entirety.” Elyla grimaced at her title.

“Don’t call my title in front of the K-I-D,” she said.

“I know how to spell, L-A-D-Y,” Leon said. I chuckled. “What is she, g-pops?” G-pops? Oh, the poor future of words.

“As I said,” I said. “This is the Queen of White Thorn, Elyla. She used to be human, but her friend devised a way to save her from death.”

“So that I can be servant for eternity, blah, blah blah,” she added.

“Until today,” I continued. The shock on her face was welcome. “You see, sonny, she is a being that can traverse planes of existence, and though I will miss her, she deserves this freedom at last.” Elyla smiled close to tears.

“Are you sure, Ano?” she asked. I nodded.

“I need you for one last task, my Queen,” I said. “Help me free the servants that are locked away in this tome and put them on planes where they may roam free without hurting anyone close to me. Will you do that for me?” Her tears were visible now and dropped to the ground as gold nuggets. While in my service, Elyla never once cried before. If I was a greedy man, I would keep her for this, but nothing except my family mattered. She nodded.

“Alright,” I said tossing the tome to her. “You hold their bindings. Pick out someone we should do first. I’ll go get their physical links.” As I returned, Leon had the golden tears in his hand, and was hitting Elyla with hopes of getting more.

“Ano, do something about your boy before I send him across ten planes,” she said.

“Leon!” I called out. “Sit down, shut up, and you’ll get a show of a lifetime. Alright?” The kid nodded and sat down right under Elyla. “Don’t tell your mother any of this either.” Elyla began removing her clothes, but stopped and looked at Leon.

“How old is he?” she asked. “Can I remove my clothes?” I looked at him and returned to rummaging for the servant Elyla had the book open to.

“No worries,” I said. “He’s got an older sister and a mother. He’s seen it all before. You’re looking good, Queen. Wish I was still in my youth to have you mine again.”

“Thanks,” she said dropping her clothes to stand naked in human form. “But no thanks. Ahh! It feels good to take these binds off. Now I can turn to my full form.” I looked as her naked body faded for one last time into a body of white glowing vines with thorns and expanded further than before when she arrived. Her nipples uncoiled as vines, and her legs split apart into more branches of the vines. She was no longer pretending to be human for my sake. Her body was released to the true form of the creature she became when Accor saved her from death. Before me floated a true Queen of White Thorn, a mass of weaving vines with a face.

“Let’s do this,” she said in her new eerie voice. “Echelon is first.” Her vines lifted the book open to the page with his symbol, an upside-down triangle with three vertical lines through it. I found his block and threw it between the three of us onto the grass. Elyla tried to smudge the design, but realized her skin had no water in it and held it out to me.

“Echelon,” I said while gliding a finger over the design. The ink blurred and sunk into the page as the block shot steam out while lifting into the air. When the steam formed a little cloud, it popped out a brick of gold back into the grass. It didn’t stay that way for long as the brick melted to a golden puddle. From the circle of molten gold, a structure built upwards as if flowing down a slope until a he formed himself a skeleton of gold. He was a good infiltrator, as he was purely liquid that could solidify when needed, say forming a key.

“Cool!” Leon exclaimed. He ran up, but a white vine naked of thorns stopped him.

“He’s clingy,” Elyla said. “Please don’t get too close.” Echelon produced eyes to look around and then a mouth once he found my gaze.

“What do you need, master?” he said. “Shall I dispatch the Queen?” His stick of a hand expanded to a branch and grew outward with many branched golden sticks.

“This day is not about what I want, E,” I said. “I am destroying the book and freeing servants today.” Echelon looked to Elyla for confirmation. She nodded.

“I shall return to the core once my friend is freed, Pheo.” I looked to Elyla.

“the Doknaton is next then,” I said and dug around in the satchel of waxy objects to find the smallest one at the bottom. I tossed his waxy pebble into the air. “Pheo!” Then I quickly smudged his toothy grin symbol on the page. It wasn’t a flashy arrival as the knat was a tiny being, a green puff of something that fed on making deals with people.

“I ARRIVE!” Pheo squeaked. By reforming as a circle, he fell onto Leon’s shoulder. “Master found a young essence for me? I am delighted to consume!” His circle expanded with white pointy teeth as a hood over Leon’s head.

“Paq!” I said, stepped over to the frozen almost helmet, and slipped it off Leon’s head. “Zime.” He reformed into a round green blob that was his basic form. I tossed him toward the golden skeleton who caught the green ball into a branched golden mitt. “Today is your last day as servants, Pheo, E.”

“CHEL!” Pheo squeaked. “My pal! It’s good to see you.” Pheo produced an eye in the green, then five more looking in each direction. Echelon formed a little throne on his shoulder and bowed with the slender body indicating he was ready for Pheo to sit. With a golden knife produced by E, I cut a slice in my index finger and smudged a line of blood over their names. The names vanished with the blood into the page, unbinding them at last. Echelon wasted no time on goodbyes, only began melting into the ground, travelling to the core of the world with his buddy Pheo.

“Who’s next, my Queen?” I asked as a waxy block landed where Echelon once stood. On it was a symbol of Letiren, a circle cut into six pieces with a long triangle going through the length of the circle and below it. He was the first of the servants to take their own life after being released, even though Elyla offered to send him to a new plane. Leon was confused why the yellow beast-man did so as Letiren vanished in a puff of yellow smoke, but I explained that servants are more in pain while being used than when free.

There is no need to explain how many servants I freed that day, only that it was all. By having Leon there, I was changing his view of things, but I would not pass the words of command onto him. Sikaria and Zolt were free, sent to other planes of existence for safety of this world. Both had strong abilities attuned to destruction. When it was time for Elyla to go, even I teared up.

“That’s all of them,” she said.

“I guess that just leaves you,” I said. “What will you do? Do you plan to die too? Consider what you can do with your power. You could see new worlds, make friends, help people, and find a better world to live in.” She smiled and reformed into the form of a person, still in white vines, but naked of thorns so that she could hug me.

“I’m sorry, Atroano Zisi,” she said. “But I am so tired. Accor, or rather Allen, made me into a servant to preserve the memory of me, way past my lifespan. It’s my time, boy. Once I go, do not expect to see me again on your deathbed. I’m ready.” I smudged blood over her name in the book and stood before her. Her vines spread out again, shedding the human form, and began growing thin. In moments, the once plump vines that she was, were mere sticks, threads, then nothing. Did she leave to die in another plane, or took my advice? Or was that death for the being that she was? Regardless, she was free to choose what to do. I turned to Leon with tears in my eyes. He was bawling at her disappearance.

“Come, Leon,” I said. “Let’s start a fire and Command these words to the lost.” As we stood watching the book burn in the flames, I felt the strongest urge to reach into the orange gout and save it, but triumphed over it. That was the prophecy being fulfilled. The Zisi family would destroy the Wordsmithing ways. Even though, I felt this was done for my own sake. The world didn’t need the words of command around. I was a part of this world now, and though I would not see it grow up, I was glad to belong to the cycle of life still alive in it.




Heart(s) (8)




My first brush with love was still as a wonderer, the poor child of the streets. Perhaps that was the reason I sought to become a part of a town rather than pass it like a plague. Her name was Rebecca and she was also a wonderer. This was still before my parents died. Back then, I had no idea they led the wonderers, or why it was so, but I also did not care. My mind was not full of thought, but she filled it with them, a pretty girl with pretty eyes.

“Hi, I said, but she walked ahead. I caught up again. “I’m Atroano. What’s your name?” She looked at me with her pretty ghostly-blue eyes and tripped into what I hoped was mud. It was too dark to tell already. In a few more kilometers, the wonderers would pile up for warmth and sleep. I did my best to find a spot by her side, but she was non-responsive. I tried to get her to speak to me over the next few days, but she remained quiet.

Over months, I talked at her, only receiving abuse in response. One morning she was no in the cozy with the other wonderers. She sat by the stream where an old man was bathing, one of the group. At her feet were two words, written poorly. Most wonderers were illiterate.

“No words,” the writing said. I looked at her and wondered if she meant I was talking to her too much. She put a hand to her mouth then pointed to the words on the ground. I smiled already knowing she couldn’t speak.

“I know,” I said. “Do you have a name?” I made a gesture in the air of writing. She took a stick and scratched “Rebecca.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Atroano.” I extended a hand to shake. Instead of taking it, she pointed to me, then touched her lips. It could have been my hopeful mind, but on instinct I got closer and kissed her. It felt good, but something was off. As we parted, I couldn’t make a sound at all.

“Nice to meet you, Ano,” she said. “I’m sorry about the voice thing. If we kiss again, you’ll have it back.” She was speaking, but it wasn’t a girly voice. It was MY voice.

“I bet it feels weird to hear yourself speak,” she said. “People often say that after. Come on, let’s kiss again.” As our lips parted, my voice was my own again. I was terrified, but intrigued.

“What are you?” I asked only to realize she couldn’t answer unless I kissed her again. This became our thing for a bit as we wondered. People disliked her. Some of the group even hated her enough to shun her from the cozy. At those times, I slept with her apart from the pile of wonderers for warmth. She’d talk of staying places, saying she did not have family in the pack, but I figured it was just talk. It turned out to be her dream, something that can never die.

My brother was still alive in those times, but he and my family were liked in the troupe. After my parents died from something I had no clue about, my brother became ill as well. The cozy had drawbacks. If one got sick, a lot of others also did. Before Sedi died, Rebecca left my grasp. She stayed behind in a town to learn to read and write. I was happy for her, but sad that I became a caretaker for me brother rather than stay with her. I failed him in that, but I wasn’t experienced in medicine. A wonderer or two died every day, all buried the same, in fire and earth.

That was when Rebecca and I parted ways. It turned out she was cursed for no reason by an old dying woman. As Rebecca explained, I sounded like a gift. She was burn mute, never knowing that speaking felt like. Giving her this ability felt kind from a certain perspective, but not one I would bring up to her after she once retaliated with her fists. With her gone, and Sedi buried, I took her play and sought out a place for myself as well, only to find the beginning of hell.




My next brush with love you already know, but not entirely. Nel was royalty in a castle I could no longer reach. My only hope was that Accor did not decide to kill her later after he saw her through my eyes that one time. I still had no idea how he did it, unless he used one of the strange servants he had around sometimes. Back then, I had no idea who they were as they maintained human forms around the house.

After that one encounter with a bigger city, Accor had me confined for months. His regular slaves were Anna and Larna for cleaning and sex, two guards of the male persuasion, Reki and Mark, and the talented female cook, Duragana. Most of us called her Aga, but she came from an old Nech family in the most south of all Ahedis. She was on her way to becoming a great chef in this dark world, but fate happened to intervene when she crossed paths with the old man. I got the details from her when she got situated.

Just when she was becoming known in this town called… to be honest, I don’t remember. She was becoming popular, her name, and so she became a slave to him. He never tried to bed her for whatever reason, but she was stunning, a woman of strong conviction. I felt bad for her, being trapped like this. At first, the old man had her taste all the food she made expecting poison.

“I’d never poison food,” she would say. “I have way too much respect for food.” She was so gallant, it made me try to be better. I once even considered forbidding Accor from taking Anne when we were talking. She put a hand on my tightened fist, and got me to meet her eyes.

“Ano, dear,” she said. “Don’t give him a reason to hurt you. Keeping Accor happy is my way of protecting you.” She kissed my fist and I let it unravel. I loved that girl as if a sister. I saw a bit of my own mother in her. It boiled me on the inside, being so powerless against the man, but I came to her side at times, receiving punishment each time. It was worth it. The old man was defended even when he slept, as Larna tried to dispatch him once in the middle of the night. That was when she disappeared.

Aga cooked food for all of us. She was our hell’s den mother and never took any crap from us. Her food was proportioned and nutritious with accuracy. No food ever remained left over. She saw to that every time. If something did not taste right, she adjusted the herbs and spices. While she was around, the house felt bareable.

After Anna, Mark and Reki all died, Aga returned to me crying in bed. I explained what Accor did and saw her face break, her personality snapped. I saw it and wanted to soothe her, but had no idea what to do. On instinct, I put my lips to hers. The rest of that night was quite another story.

In the morning, she was gone. Fearing the worse, I asked the old man, but he ignored me. When he did speak to me, it was to send me out for supplies. One night, I confronted him about Aga and where she went, if she was safe or no longer alive.

“Who’s Aga?” the old man asked. With all my friends gone, I was left to do everything from cleaning to cooking. I was glad the old man’s sex drive dried up, or who knows what would have happened.

“The cook!” I yelled. “Duragana!”

“Careful with your tone, boy,” Accor said. “Or do you wish for your face to reconvene with your fist?” My fists tightened in anger.

“What happened to her?” I asked at a lower volume. “Is she alive?” The man looked up at me.

“Do you know why I didn’t fuck that little blonde number any chance I saw her?” he asked. “She didn’t threaten me. No. That I could stop. She said that she would take her own life if I ever laid my hands on her. So. What do you think happened to her?” My mind broke. Aha was always so strong. I never considered that she was suffering so much to bet her life on a bit of freedom. Did that mean she did it? I pushed suspense on the man.

“She’s free,” he said. Accor being kind? Impossible. “She wanted to take you as well, but her price of freedom WAS you, Atroano Zisi. She sold you.” I wanted to be angry, but sadness forced its way in. I was still here, but she left me. I meant that little to her. In that one moment, I remembered Edelneise and how much she reminded me of Aga.

“Whatever happened to that city you once sent me to?” I asked. “You remember? The time I broke the bound-.”

“I burned it down,” he interrupted. Burned it down. “Nothing but ash and bone dust now. Couldn’t have anyone knowing your name, now could we?” The man turned a page of the book he was reading. I was frozen, perhaps with rage, or maybe the overwhelming sadness of being alone dawned on me. I lunged at him, hoping to surprise the old man, but he was always one step ahead.

“Ing Paq,” he said. “Aso Kyn Tur…” The punches just kept coming until I blacked out. When I woke up, nothing had changed. I hated the man, but did what he asked of me. My hope never died that Nel survived by some miracle. I needed to think that about the girl I loved. Maybe one day I could also look Aga in her eyes after she sold me to the old man. Maybe.




The next and last installment of the story of romance from my eyes, comes long after Accor died. I was becoming him with the words of command, bit I liked to think I was milder to it. It was a lie.

It had been a few years since the old man died, and I was nearing a spoiled adulthood, using people and servants without care. I came to know most of the strange creatures bound in the black tome, but had almost no use for them. If I was around in the times of the Wars of the Dark, they would be very useful.

Along the way, I’ve met a few speaking the Words of the Nine, but mine trumped most of theirs. Among them, the words of persuasion kicked me ass. I was actually persuaded to remain in that horrible upbeat town for a year. That story you will never hear from me. By the time you read this, I will have been long dead, and hopefully so with the Words of the Nine.

The true part of this story occurs after that one year in the town of free thought. I did manage to kill that awful preacher and burn his book of persuasion. And yet, through his teaching, the ideas he spread existed in thousands of others. I had no time to dwell on such ideas of a being above who put humans on the world for a reason. A wild anger built up inside me, and I needed to take control with the words given to me by the worst human imaginable. And yet, with that rage, I found her again. Above it all, I was happy. The end.




You keep falling for that one, huh? Yeah, I never told you who I found. It would be cruel to just leave this way. It was Aga. There, I’m not as cruel as Accor.

“Why?” I could only ask Duragana. I had two women with me, heading to some inn for fun. Aga was out shopping in some town. I never cared for names, never needed to. When she saw me, her face panicked, but she smiled through it.

“Ano!” she said and came up to hug me, but I stopped her by tossing one of the girls at her.

“Why did you leave me there?” I yelled. She lost her smile and looked away. I hoped it was shame, but when her eyes returned to meet mine, anger was all I found.

“YOU’RE mad?!” she asked. “I was going to be a sensation around the world before that whole episode of hell! I escaped before he could kill me like the others!” Tears welled in her eyes. The two girls scampered off to leave us alone. I did not want to hate her, but knowing what I did now, Accor wouldn’t have let me go even if she wanted to trade places.

“You think I wanted to leave you?” Aga asked. Her tears streamed. “You were there with me through all of the monster’s rage, my one confidant who I could imagine Accor’s death with, but after that night together, I got scared. So, I ran. There was something so strong between you and that old monster, something connecting you two. I thought that he would kill me for certain when I stood up to him that night, but he just said: ‘Your work is done. Leave.’.”

“Did he command you to leave?” I asked tightening my fists. I had Accor’s rage inside me.

“No,” she said. “He only told me to.”

“Then don’t cower behind him for the choices you have made!” I said. It felt good to yell at her. “For you see, I never saw you as a mother figure.” That was a lie. It stung to hurt her, even though she hurt me by leaving me alone with Accor. “Veet! Kirht!” She dropped to her knees with shock on her face. Then fear joined the party.

“That’s right,” I said stepping closer to her immobilized body. She was still massive in the chest, the mounds of flesh I’d often dream of. “I inherited his ways along with his anger. Zime Kirht. All I need is your mouth anyway.”

“Ano, wait,” she said. For a moment, she found some stupid courage. How much like Nel she looked now, so proud. I couldn’t get myself to do it. “Ano, please.”

“Zime,” I said. “You’re lucky I didn’t inherit all of his problems. Here. Freedom. Don’t ever cross my path again. You remind me of someone I lost a long time ago.” That hope I had for Nel died with her gravestone. I had no idea who made the memorial for her, but I broke down at the sight of that name engraved in stone. So many years I spent looking for her after the city burned down. I was too afraid to find out if all of the royal family perished in the flames. When I mustered the strength to push past that same panic as the freedome forced on me, my reward was only pain. There was nothing more to do but lay beside her grave and dream of what a life we could have led.

After the encounter with Aga, and the arrow through my heart of Nel, I felt a pull to finding connection in the world. Was there even anyone left? Did I have to start anew in this slow and dark world? I became what I once was, a wonderer, though void of the togetherness that came with it. I came across a group of them once, with only kindness in my eyes. I had forgotten how cold of a people they were, always on guard for fear of being exploited. Maybe that was why wondering was the only thing they did. Fear of being property to someone, of being owned in however small a way. They had the ultimate freedom, and yet still did not care.

Being with them for a bit, brought me back to a memory of Rebecca, the girl I met who stole voices with a kiss. It had been so long since she remained in that one town I had to recall the name of. Arton. I made my way there only to see her, yet stayed for much more. She had become well integrated in the community, like I hoped to be in my town of Girhit. She welcomed me to her home. With nothing to do otherwise, I helped out with her town, hiding the Words of the Nine as best I could. One day, she found out about it.

We had been arguing over something trivial, but always had to end with a kiss for she used my voice. It was a weird little struggle. I stole a kiss from her mid-sentence, and professed my love. With a kiss, and after, she gave me the answer. At the same moment, a few common ruffians barged in to bother her about the cursed lips. I spoke to take care of them, but nothing came out. She had my voice! I ran to her side, but they split us apart before I could take my voice back.

“Well, well,” one of them said. “What shall we do with you? You can’t scream for help, so why don’t I just plug your face with something?” She struggled as I wrote on a piece of cloth a command to help. It was the word I often used to control. If she had my voice, then perhaps she could speak the Words of Command. She read the napkin and I hoped for it to work. I was nothing without my voice, relying on it for so long.

“Veet!” my voice spoke from her mouth. One of the guys dropped to his knees. “Veet! Veet!” All three were immobilized, but Becca was mortified. I kissed my voice back before she panicked.

“Relax,” I said. “You did good. I’ll take care of them now.” I cracked my neck in anger. Oh, how long it had been since I used my full power. My jaw adjusted, but before I could say anything, Rebecca kissed me to say something.

“Don’t kill them, Ano,” she said and returned my voice, my power. I had my words, yet I felt stripped of them in that one moment.

“Zime Artocan,” I said. Before they could stand, I chanted a sentence of words of life I learned once, just like Accor once used words of emotion. “Ako Tome Tim Trinos Ogakeri!” My muscles grew me to a size bigger than the three thugs.

“Know this, Mortals!” I said at them with a new voice, booming in the room. “I am the last known Wordsmith, and I protect this woman!” The three of them ran from her house in fear, but I saw she was afraid of me as well. “Zime.” My body returned to normal, but as with all words of life, it came at a price. I sacrificed one year of life to that chant. Rebecca came up slowly and kissed me.

“Who are you?” she asked. I took my voice back and though she had already said yes, the choice was still hers.

“Your husband,” I said. “If you’ll have me as I am.” I told her about my hell of a past. Perhaps it was good she couldn’t talk as I felt weak to the story by the end. If my enemies knew of this, I would not live with her long. Without a kiss, Rebecca got her message across. She made a circle in my chest over the heart, then kissed it. As her lips stole voices, this had to mean that she took my heart. I almost heard her speak with Nel’s voice: “You are mine.” I was glad to be where my heart finally at ease.




The Sex One (6)




Haha! I thought you might go here first, but if you didn’t, kudos to you. The before story was more of an actual tale. What I tell you now are my recounts of sexual encounters of my life. Think of it as icing on the cake that you eat at the very end. As far as some of you know, my tale has ended, so this is needless, but won’t you read for the sake of curiosity? I mean, with such as the words of command, don’t you wish to know what I made them all do?

This recollection will see me in a darker light, for you know that I am a person of dark past, but near Rebecca, I’m only her husband, protector, and lover. She, without a voice, let me do to her the most extraordinary feats of pleasure. We had servants involved, did it in the infinity void once thanks to Elyla, and countless times I watched her writhe in ecstasy in only starlight. You see, the servants had tricks to make myself the most mysterious. Sometimes, the voluptuous Sikaria joined us, and sometimes Zolt formed into that blue-skinned human to assist. I can honestly say, Rebecca had the love life that only a wordsmith could provide, and yet she died. No words could save her from old age, though I asked Elyla about making my wife a Queen of White Thorn, to no avail.

That is neither here, not there. This tale is to excite, and thus written by my past self, when all my stuff still operated at an extreme capacity. Know me for the youth I was and despair, for many of my age have same thoughts. Theirs, however, did not have the Words of the Nine to become reality. Avert your eyes, or witness my youth at the peak of sexual knowledge and power to satisfy.




The first installment must begin with Aga, or Duragana, the Nech cook I’ve had on my sexual mind ever since she joined the house. She cared for the servants too much, and in turn I cared for her. Many times when I helped her, I imagined the sway of her breasts as we cleaned plates, only later to recall those moments void of clothes, while still finding time to hate the old man. Aga had become a friend, so that when I sometimes feigned brushing up against those mounds of flesh, she would not suspect a thing. I did my best to keep these matters contained, though Anna’s screams of passion woke me with hate. I shared that hate with Aga, and the fact that she played along in imaginations of Accor’s death, excited me ever more.

In those days, I was still developing, but the environment did nothing to help restrain the wanting beast that longed for touch, a mere caress of the skin. As I grew, so did the notice of my excitement. In Accor’s words, I was a toy and at times he used me with Anna. I did my best to resist, but the beast roared into life even when the old man’s words stopped. Anna assured me that it was fine, with her gentle hands caressing my skin, but I begged my mind to let it fade. Her hands, her mouth, and those fake-happy eyes will haunt me forever, though they were my first touch of the female flesh. This part should involve Aga more, the first sexual encounter of my own choice.

After that night when Accor absorbed Anna’s youth and killed the guards, Aga came home to my tears. For the first time, I needed a way to cop. I threw caution to the wind and took her to bed. With the news in her, she was weak, and I had my lips between her legs before she could resist. I’ve imagined that moment countless times when trying to sleep, begging Anna not to help me relieve that pressure once she was forced to before. She didn’t always listen, and I was almost glad that her hands were so quick at bringing me to my relief. Those time, thinking of Aga in the night, I could not resist the servant girl’s caress, but hated that the old man used her in that way. My mind was breaking. Present returned with tears, a memory of Anna, a pile of ash.

My tongue was inside Aga, and I could still hear her moan, but I moved away to undo my pants. I needed this, and she was pliable from grief. It was a temporary escape from the current and lasting hell. Once I was out, Aga was standing.

“I can’t, Ano,” she said, but came closer. “I know you need to get away from your thoughts, but you can’t do this with me.” Her hand touched my naked skin for a moment, only making me surge more into the craving of entering her. Her fingers worked fast as if she was preparing herb rubbed meat, but nothing ever entered her. I collapsed to my knees in a tide of pleasure as she finished me. The beast roared within got return the favor, but she was already gone.

I don’t know how long I stayed there crying, but by the time the tears stopped, Duragana was gone from Accor’s service for good, leaving me to the old man and his dying life. Aga became my only dream, aside from killing the old man at last. As I dreamed of her, I pretended my fingers were hers again some nights to cope with my situation. It worked most times, but occasionally I did what only Anna used to do, a little trick of her hand. When that occurred, her face returned with it, and the event of her death relit a flame of sadness to fade my craving for release. Those night of Anna, brought on real tears, not those produced with great pleasure. That was my life until Accor died, masturbating in the dead of night while thinking of a woman who left me angry, craving to vent all of my pent-up beat sexuality on somebody, anybody.




One such encounter of bestial want was Marie Arcosto. I had her name, so she was putty in my hands, but that was too easy. I satisfied myself in the House of Karta thanks to their many guards. It turned out one of the guards was a woman who had never even had a sexual encounter as she pretended to be a boy for a long time. I took her first time away from her while being spectated by the royalty that were frozen still by my inherited words of command. The princess, who was about my age, I took second. After those simple performances to satisfy my beast, and make the servants watch, I put the whole royal palace in a bubble. Not one person trying to enter this bubble would. They would simply pass through it as if ghosts. The Karta’s deserved privacy, for everyone in the palace was about to become a sex-crazed naked addict.

I sat on the throne watching the weaving of bodies in the hall. The screams and moans of them all worked to excite the beast again every so often. At that time, I peled off a woman, or simply found someone to join the pile. I had my way with the Queen of Karta, Vanessa Karta, as her husband Emanuel mounted his daughter from behind. No familial bond existed in this bubble I created. Only endless craving until all were spent. To no surprise, the guards lasted the longest and the one female guard who still hadn’t fainted, was my last to enjoy. She had magic in her mouth, though I thought I would no longer be able to gain pleasure, she got the final scream of the beast from me. With the last of consciousness, I released them all.

“Zime Artocan!” I said looing over the room. The few guards still going like pink-boys stopped and saw the mounds of sleeping flesh. I faded to sleep on the throne, and woke up in a cell. Unfortunate for them, they posted guards right outside. With them disabled, I headed to speak with the king. It seemed they were ashamed of what they’ve done.

“Guards, seize him!” King Emanuel shouted. Instead, I spoke to have the armored sexual gladiators to kiss.

“Niali Artocan,” I said then looked at the King and Queen. “Zime. Zime. Alright, let’s see. You must be pretty upset I had you in the sex pit recently, but don’t you feel just really happy just thinking back to it? It was pure pleasure, the primal force of life. I had so much fun here. I think I will remain near for more. I need some practice.”

“Are you…?” the Queen asked, but stopped and put a hand over her clothed lower entrance. I wondered if she remembered the night and got excited again. She blushed and continued as I made her think she was getting licked with a few quiet words. Somewhere along the way in the pit of flesh, I was doing just that to her. Having her recall the memory was an easy few words: Buok Tss. “Are you the- oh GOD!” she exclaimed and sat back on her throne breathing hard.

“The wordsmith?” I completed her question as the King flared in anger. I whispered the same at him, but he fought against it. “If you mean the old man Accor, then no. I am the child he tortured for years, but I seek to amuse myself and have others discover their forgotten natures. Take the king for example. Zime Artocan.” I looked over the room as the guards parted while one couple remained kissing.

“The King so desperately wants to tear off his Queen’s clothes and take her right here on the throne steps,” I said. “So why doesn’t he?”

“Because you’re the one causing it!” he yelled.

“Not so, King Karta,” I said. “That excitement is your very own, just inspired by me showing you memories. By all means, take her. This is your kingdom! So do what you have been dreaming of since you met your wife!” For a moment it looked as if the King would attack me, but when he stood, I knew I’d won. He slipped his pants down to reveal a fully primed weapon to use on his desired Queen. In a few steps, he came up to Queen Vanessa and tore her clothes open with one hand. I watched as they went at it on the throne first, then on the steps. In the atmosphere, the two guards kissing started their own very pleasurable encounter. When all were done, I was excited and suggested it to the Queen who willingly took me into her mouth and made quick work of the beast’s release. I left the palace with a token signifying that I was close friends with the Karta Royalty. This opened the whole city to me, as I sought to challenge. Marie was that challenge. I had used nothing to control her into it, and still made her want me. I was ready to take her the second she opened the door to her room.

The house was asleep, and good for it as Marie was quite loud with her climaxes, and I welcome that about her. Sex freely given was much more sensual to the mind. With my words of command aimed at my own self, I could satisfy Marie’s hidden desires and set the bar for her future sexual exploits extremely high. As the night faded, she was spent, and I was asleep on her breasts right after she passed out. When I woke up, she was moving her hand under the covers, excited again. When I put my hand to hers beneath the covers, she moaned at her peak again. When she was done, I moved her hand to show her what she did to me with that sound. Her mouth took care of me faster than even the Queen of Karta, and kissed me after gulping down what emerged. As fun as Marie was, I was not staying for long.

“I’m leaving soon, Marie,” I said. She frowned and put her ear to my chest as we remained in her bed. Any time now, Henry would burst in and try to attack me. Instead, I heard of means and thumps that would signify Henry and Nirona going at it. I looked at Marie to find her face in a terrified embarrassment.

“Heh,” I said. “Want to compete with them?” Marie smiled.

“Aren’t you spent already?”

“I’m a wordsmith, girl,” I replied and whispered words of command that revitalized my sex drive: Buok Aro Tss. I had Marie up against the wall and matched her parents’ sounds with a smile. As I heard Nirona reach peak, I sped up to have the mother and daughter reach the point at the same time. I left as Marie fainted, without a goodbye, but I had a feeling she would be what she wanted from then on.




The last installment of sexual encounters was already by my wife, Rebecca’s side. That was, to be expected, the wildest and most pleasant encounters of my lifetime. Due to the love we shared, all things I had force other girls and women into before, I simply told Becca about and she approved, most of them. As we were both wonderers in the past, we had learned of the world of sex at a young age. Most thing wouldn’t faze us, so all that dark imagination of my words of command was fuel to experiment with her. The darker ideas rejected by her would turn anyone’s stomach and therefore are not part of this story. To what she agreed, let’s explore.

“Alright,” she said with my voice borrowed. “What do you want to try first from your list?” I pointed to a choice with a smile.

“I made a list too,” she added. “How about we do one from yours and one from mine after?” She kissed me to discuss. Our conversations had a lot of tongue, and not only wagging.

“Your own list?” I asked. “Can I see?” She handed over a list much longer than what she approved of mine. The first item on it was a no-touch hold out. I would speak words of command at her until she went off like a firecracker. The next choices involved additional people. I was surprised at first, but being a strange cursed girl who steals voices must have distanced her from people. Here I was just listing obscene ways to expose her body and make her flush crimson when she was actually making a list of exploits normally available. I stopped reading at one selection. It mentioned the one man who tried to put himself in her mouth as the licker who got his throat slit at the moment of her climax.

“I feel stupid,” I said. “Here I was just satisfying my craving to embarrass you in a pleasurable way, but your items are more a list of new experiences.” She got closer to kiss her voice, but I held her back and pointed to an item on her list that wasn’t very difficult: “Achieve twenty climaxes in one hour.” I smiled.

“Use of words permitted?” I asked. “Otherwise might need an hour and a half.” She smiled, touched her lips, formed a fist and opened it. It meant words of command were allowed.

“Ing Tss,” I said and continued adding “Tss” until the room became a sauna from her body heat. She was naked and I stripped quickly to join her, but did not approach her. We circled like hungry beasts glaring with sexual desire.

“Anco Inib,” I said. She closed her eyes feeling the heat more intense on her skin. Every part of her body multiplied sensations twice over. “Anco Inib. Anco Inib. Anco Inib.” With each multiplication of sensations, Rebecca twisted a little. She now felt every single thing at a magnitude of sixteen times the norm. What torture it must have been to not have a voice to express it all. I had an idea.

In seconds, I summoned Skiaria, the voluptuous servant and had her hand over her voice to Becca. My wife writhed in pleasure at the kiss and when she parted, a gasp of a female voice sounded off her first climax. The heat in the room was extraordinary. I commanded Sikaria to sit and watch us.

As Rebecca walked closer, moaning at each step, I put my hand to her skin. In the instant my fingertips touched her flesh, she exploded in a second scream of pleasure that drew out her second peak. I caught her as she fell, and kissed her to withdraw a third. Her eyes were ablaze and I licked her lips to have her shake the fourth time. I was making good time, and stood at the ready, but she reached twenty first, before I took any fun for myself.

The fifth time, I glided my hand on her thigh, soaked in a beautiful mix of sweat and her personal concoction. For the sixth, I lowered her hand between my legs to feel what awaited. The seventh was taken from a squeeze of her breast, eighth from a light pinch to her nipple. Nine came from an embrace of her chest and my tongue between them. The tenth and eleventh exploded when I ran my tongue down her body of sweat. Twelve came from anticipation as I took my tongue away. That sweet thirteen was once my tongue licked once. Fourteen came with her hips against my face. Fifteenth was when Sikaria came up to Rebecca’s mouth and kissed her as I kissed below.

The sixteenth time mirrored Sikaria’s first as Rebecca took her tongue to the servant. The seventeenth was produced by my fingers inside. The eighteenth moan of climax drew a sharp breath from her as I explored below with both my hands and mouth. The nineteenth undulated her body against mine as Sikaria went to her second against Becca’s face. The last one burst with a wild roar from me and my hands holding her legs apart for instant access.

“Zime,” I breathed into her ear.

Rebecca’s eyes remained in shock of pleasure, as I kissed her neck and began my work toward the first. With so much pleasure, the part of the Words of the Nine were done. After the release of her from the sixteen times of sensations, I continued to seek my own release. Sikaria was on the floor, spent, and Rebecca was fading from consciousness. While I was still working on my first, she fell asleep. I kept going until I was done, and squeezed her breasts hard in enjoyment, but after the over-sensed experience, that was not enough to wake her. She was out of it, but her breath and pulse remained.

Throughout the night, I woke up ready for more, and even though Becca was asleep, I helped myself to releases using her exhausted body. She was my wife. She wouldn’t mind. In the evening of the next day, we both woke up to realize that Rebecca still had Sikaria’s voice. I touched her under the covers, and she helped me. We reached that one peak together, and kissed, switching voices. I gave it my best try at a female moan and laughed. We kissed again to switch.

“That was amazing,” she said. “Once in a lifetime night.”

“I can make that every night, girl,” I said, but felt very sore from overuse.

“No way,” she said. Thank oh lord! “I will need to heal a bit before that, but we could do other stuff from our lists, assuming you know some people to join us.”

“I know a lot of people,” I said thinking back to the royalty of Ahedis and some of Alta I had flesh pits with. “Your dreams are my dreams, Becca.” She smiled and rested her head on my chest.

“How come you never used the words of command to create an army and conquer the whole world?” she asked. I formulated a response until her questioning eyes met mine. Oh, how green they were.

“There are enough conquerors in the world already,” I replied. “I never wanted to bring the world pain. I want everyone to see how much love there is out there, how much beauty.”

“Beauty like extreme wild sex?” She sked licking my nipple.

“There is beauty in the most primal forces that make humans so good to entertain,” I said. “All I ever wanted, to be honest, was you. From the very beginning.” She smiled and put her ear to my chest to listen to my heartbeat.

“As my body changed,” I continued. “That meant other things, but it all started with being near you, with this uncertain dark world in the forgotten backdrop.” I looked over at her, but she was gone under the covers. I gasped as she put me into her mouth again. In a moment, I was ready again.

“No more talking,” she said vibrating her vocal cords around the part of me inside her and put her mouth to work. Sikaria came up to me voiceless and upset, but realizing I was busy, she put herself over my face. No sounds remained in the room save for soft moans of pleasure.




“And so ends my story, from the dark ages, fro mthe past, or is it a whole new world? I’m dead already, so don’t expect me to say you might find remnants of my existence. I made sure you wouldn’t. Besides, I don’t know what or who might be reading this or seeing the story in some way. One thing I did before death is tossing my consciousness into the infinity. That means I exist there, at all stages of my life.

“There are stories left untold within mine, The Zisi family destruction of the Words of the Nine, Rebecca’s curse, and all the servant tales I took by force with my words of command. Then there is Accor’s full tale, but that is lost to the ether. Nah, I had Elyla tell it to me that one time. Another tale could encounter all the other Words of the Nine. Freedom was very entertaining, as it was the polar opposite of my words. Strangely enough, the word ‘Zime’ I often used, was a word of freedom. Accor adoped more than just command and emotion.

“But you see, these stories are not mine to tell. They are jewels in the infinity void, glances into worlds like mine, as this boy is glancing into mine. Look for them in the void and you are sure to find something, but don’t be discouraged if you find other gems in there.

“So it is true from the beginning, I lied to you all. I said this was a story void of magic and fantastical events, but don’t you think it made up for the fact? After all, what are lies but hopes of better, hopes of wonder? Some lies, I suppose, are for the good of the future, but if you don’t think so, then join that bloke using words of persuasion. He was peddling a world without war, a state of truth and peace. What a joke that was, but one can hope, and lie to make it so.

“This stupid boy’s about to look away from the jewel that is me. So I say my farewell now. To be explored, wonderers. Heh. Maybe another will glance into this dirty jewel one day once more. Until then-…”