The darkness was inky and black, with an impermeable quality that made it difficult for his eyes to adjust. When he had decided it was his time to die, he had known the consequences would be this. He knew that Dakkru would not allow him to surface again after he had hung himself, after he had willingly taken his own life. Such was the punishment for those who treated death with such cold indifference.

   The hope had been, of course, to free himself of a life too unbearable to live. No more pointlessness. No more depression. No more pain. At first he had felt relief as his torturous thoughts dissipated upon his death, which was always the part that he strived for whenever he hung himself, or took a blade to his own throat. But now, standing staring at the death guardian, lost eternally in the labyrinth, he realized too well the folly of his decision. Piece by piece, he had lost his soul to Dakkru. And he had not gained peace. Quite the opposite had occurred. Now he was stranded here, in this nothingness, this terrible maze fraught with a myriad assortment of vicious and volatile creatures. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. No, the worst of it was being trapped with his own thoughts. His unending sense of worthlessness, the very thing that he had been trying to eliminate with his decision, was now his only companion.

He had to laugh at himself for the irony of it. Where before there were rare moments of happy distraction, now there was nothing around him but the agonized cries of those in a similar predicament as him. His soul and body unable to extricate itself from this proverbial hell of chaos and death, he instead was forced to wander this landscape that seemed to constantly shift with the rhythm of his own angst-riddled thoughts.

The dermorian found a suitable rock to sit upon, overlooking the bridge leading towards the exit from which he was barred. His eyes watched longingly as strangers passed through the veil leading back to Yliakum. He would give anything to give his mind rest. To find the peace he so voraciously craved. But he knew now that this could never be. And with this realization, he put his head in his hands and wept bitterly.

It was in the midst of this sorrow that he felt the presence in the back of his mind. It hovered like a query, a soft, gentle nudge, quietly asking for access. At any other time he would have been terrified. But here, facing so much aloneness, he almost welcomed the touch. He felt warmth seep into his mind; a strange sensation of happiness that he had not felt in a very long time.

"Greetings, my friend.”

The voice rang clearly into his head, but it was quiet and demure. It was difficult to place gender or infliction upon it, or even a specific tone, but it held a sort of depth and sincerity.

“…Hello?” The elf said, jerking his wide eyes around but seeing no one.

“Do you wish to be free?”

The elf paused, touching his temple with his fingers. His brow furrowed in concentration. He swallowed once, the first inklings of fear trickling into him.

“…Yes,” he said, after a moment of hesitation.

“I can heal your mind,” the voice continued, still failing to hold any signs of menace. “But to do this, there is a price. Life is always full of give and take. I am sure one such as you knows this well.”

The dermorian shuddered, but his heart beat faster with the promise of hope.

“Anything,” he whispered past trembling lips. “I’d give anything to be free.”

“Your body,” the voice continued. “I will heal your aches, your hurts, and your wounded heart. But what I ask in return: your body, once separated from your soul, shall be mine.”

It only took a moment for him to make his decision. Even though the consequences could be oblivion, even nothingness would be better than all of this. He nodded once, a slight bobbing of his head. He curled his knees under his chin and waited for some kind of overwhelming pain to bear down on him.
But what he felt was not pain. Instead, the warmth continued to make its way over his mind in small, undulating waves. It wove through the recesses of his memories, touching them lightly, trying to understand. It latched onto his deepest regrets, his most horrendous fears. And then it touched that place of deep sorrow, right in his heart, and wrenched that sorrow free.

The young elf gasped, and tears ran down his cheeks. He toppled to his side, overwhelmed by the feeling of relief that overcame him, clutching at his chest as though his heart were about to burst.

“Now for our agreement,” the voice said softly. There was a hint of remorse in it now. Instantly, the presence clamped down on his mind, burrowing deep into it. He felt a brief sense of duality, and then all feelings and sensations were lost as he was tossed from his body. He hovered, ethereal and translucent, staring down at his own face. His eyes looked at him, seeming much older and wiser than the ones he had glimpsed staring into the fountain so many times before.

“Be free.”

The words were uttered from his own throat, stirring his own vocal chords. But he had not told these functions to move. He started down at himself, and realized that there was nothing to be seen, only the ruddy red earth of the death realm below.

All at once, his vision burst with light as bright as the crystal, harsh and unrelenting. It seemed to fill him, moving into his very soul. He lost all concept of who he had been as everything was abandoned to this light, and his ghost-like visage dissipated like so much dust in the wind. His last impression was a burst of overwhelming joy, and then nothingness enfolded him like a rich, benevolent blanket.
~~
   Ziljhi Laneri brushed off his worn down outfit, giving Harnquist a nod before turning towards the path leading up to Kada El’s. First things first, he would need a pipe. He couldn’t go for long without one of those. He clicked his new teeth together regretfully, knowing they too would soon be stained as the ones he had had before. He knew precisely where the young elf had come from, would even take on his name, though he would avoid past friends and relatives for…obvious reasons. The memories knitted into the fabric of the brain now behind his eyes were short-lived, and that saddened him. Such a young life, filled with so much pain.
   
But none of that mattered now. The transfer was never easy, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it for long. If left alone, the boy would simply have wallowed in self pity until the death realm collapsed in upon itself. And what kind of life would that be?
Besides, now this body could be put to good use.
And he had much work to do.
   

Your writing skizzles, they rock. That is all. 

It's a painted spiral on her forehead. I really should have colored it, but no, no three eyes for her. Heh.

Just some random doodlings, may add more later if I'm so motivated to do so. And once the stupid scanner decides to work with me and not against me...
http://s1127.photobucket.com/albums/l630/TheAllegorist476/?action=view&current=DSCI0936.jpg
I FIXED MY SCANNER! YAY!

Agreed, surprisingly. Very much agreed.