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Anlith is like some fucking Outlast villain lmao

I started to work on this thing at the beginning of February and got it ready in May. It took almost three months to write this shit and oh boy, I couldn't anticipate how lengthy this one would turn out to be. This is the lengthiest story I have ever written.

I put a lot of time and effort into this one, but sadly no one will read it because it's so long lol


Story, characters, etc. © \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
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\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tKurjin\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tKurjin\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
", "writing": "Oh, the sweet little ones, sleeping so soundly, not even the horrid creak of the door to their bedroom disturbed their dreams. A pale beam of light managed to sneak into the room of the two children and in that light stood a tall and very skinny figure, like a bogeyman from the tales they had heard so many times before going to bed. The man had long thin fingers and he was nervously fumbling with the handle of a knife, as if he couldn't find a comfortable way to hold the tool in his hands. He watched how the children, a girl and a boy, were resting peacefully, and he could feel an awful wrench in his gut as he prepared for the horrible deed he was about to do. But it was for the best, that's what he told himself repeatedly in his head, it was like a mantra. These children should be thriving, but their bodies had withered away into mere twigs and in their future, there was nothing else but more starvation and suffering. They shouldn't have even been brought into this world to begin with. If nothing else, it should be mercy guiding the man's blade.\n\nAnother shadow appeared by his side on the beam of light and the man could feel a touch on his shoulder; gentle but weak, supportive but helpless. His beloved wife. They had discussed this for hours, days, and the thought had never become easier to accept. They had cried until there had been no more tears left to shed, they had shared the guilt for bringing these sweet little children into this world and together they had lamented the fate of their family. In the end, they both knew that there was only one thing they could do. Feeling the woman's grasp on his shoulder tightening for a brief moment as a sign of encouragement, the man took a couple hesitant steps towards the bed of the girl. He was shaking, he felt disgusted with himself, but he was well aware that this had to be done. He had butchered many pigs before, this shouldn't be much different, right? The man took a deep breath and quickly slit open the sleeping girl's throat. Her eyes opened wide as the deadly blade cut her skin and flesh and nothing could have prepared the man for the haunting look in her eyes as the blood was flowing out of her fragile body and stained her bed. The shock, the confusion, the disbelief… Why would her own father do this? The man had to turn away; he knew that she would lose consciousness soon, anyway. He walked towards the bed of the little boy who was still happily dreaming, blissfully unaware of what was happening around him. Just one more quick slash… In his mind he begged for forgiveness as he let the blade cut innocent flesh once more and as he saw that river of blood gushing down, he turned away, not wanting to face the crimes he had just committed. He dragged his feet across the floor until he came to the doorway where his wife had been observing all this time and she wrapped her bony arms around him.\n\nThe bodies of the children were malnourished, but there should still be something usable in them. Now they would feed their parents, even if just slightly.\n\nEvery day was a struggle. Hunger had been the acquaintance of Phoel for as long as he could remember. It was almost impossible for him to be able to imagine what life would be like if he could feed his family regularly. As a pig farmer, one could think that he would be able to provide meat for his wife and children. But pigs were worth more than a human life. He wasn't raising these animals for himself. Life had never been easy for him, but as of late, things had been worse than ever before. Starvation was lurking around the corner, persistent like a plague. In the end, it had taken Phoel's children away from him, as it had forced his hand to commit atrocities and then feed on their bodies so he and his wife could cling onto life a while longer. More than anything else, Phoel feared death.\n\nThe famishment tried its best to destroy the sad and misery-ridden life of Phoel. After eating his children, his options with getting some sort of nourishment to feed his wretched body were becoming increasingly scarce. Death was knocking on his door, on his walls during the dark hours while he would lie in bed, unable to sleep. Crops aren't growing. There was barely any money left in his savings. Out of desperation, Phoel then started to eat the pigs he had so carefully raised. It was either them or him. Little did he know, this action would change his life in a horrifying way.\n\nHe had got out of bed assuming that it was like any other day. Phoel, a slave of anguish, had dragged himself out of his house that was in a state of disrepair, but it was just one more detail in a long list of things he couldn't do anything about. The wind was cold and cruel that morning, biting Phoel's skin, and violently toying with helpless trees, bending them however it wanted and it also banged the broken window shutters. The sky was cloudy and grey, a forlorn state which had continued for too long already. Phoel eagerly waited for the day when he would see the sun's face again. The man walked like a living dead across the yard which was pretty much just sand and tufts of dry grass, heading towards the barn where he kept the pigs. The building was in a slightly better condition, reflecting the harsh reality that pigs were more valuable than him or his wife. It wasn't the life he had chosen; no one would choose a life like this.\n\nUpon entering the barn, Phoel got punched in the face by hopelessness. There weren't many pigs left and most of those he still had were just piglets. The number of animals had decreased rapidly as of late and the man had no idea how to recover from this. Phoel walked to one of the pens and leaned against its railing, watching how the young animals were happily going around and sniffing the straws that covered their little environment. What a twisted world this was, Phoel pondered as he continued to observe the mundane activities of the piglets. The lives of these animals were better than those of his own children. But he simply didn't have the right to question it, he had to do as was told.\n\nPhoel had been filling the food bins with grains when he heard the worst possible sounds there were in that situation, he could practically feel his heart freezing from fear. The hooves of horses were clattering against the dry land like a rhythm of demise, each of their steps bringing closer misfortune for Phoel – he just didn't know for sure what kind of horrors were about to become reality. The wheels of a heavy cart were whimpering softly as the strong majestic animals pulled the load. For a brief moment, Phoel became a living statue, his weak and malnourished body frozen while doing his daily tasks before terror struck his heart.\n\n“No, no, no, no, no!” Barely any sound left his mouth as he moved his lips, repeating the same word over and over again as if that would somehow make his situation better. Of course, it didn't. The ominous sounds stopped after a while. Phoel knew he had to go outside and greet the arrival, but he would rather get his ears cut off from his head. Nonetheless, he put down the bucket he had just emptied and slowly walked out of the barn.\n\nPhoel's very presence was nothing but meekness as he stepped outside. The first thing that hit his vision was a huge structure made of metal, resembling a lot like those dreary cages where prisoners were put whenever they were transported around. This monstrosity was being pulled by eight horses, all of them strong, energetic and healthy – their good condition perplexed Phoel, for how could anything thrive like that in this cursed land? They were regal animals, however, so maybe that was why. At the front of the metal container was a wooden seat, wide enough for three men to sit at the same time. With uncertain steps Phoel walked towards this seat, noting how two figures hopped down to the ground while the third one remained stationary, holding the reins in his hands. The man that stayed on the seat and one of those who had decided to get off were rather vapid folks, both dressed in bland black outfits that made them blend onto the background so well that they practically became one with their environment. They were like shadows; dark figures that were there, but no one would pay attention to them. The third man, on the other hand…\n\nHe was a complete opposite, someone that was hard to not notice. He had an impeccable posture and his lavish attire was dominated by bright blue color, toned down slightly with some white as well. A little bit of gold had been sprinkled around, too. The man was wearing a top hat, continuing his taste for blue, and there were a few yellow feathers with black stripes decorating the hat. His short blond hair was well kept and his pale skin seemed almost flawless. The man definitely let it show that he had a high status, but you would forget everything else about him once he would take a look at you with his cold, icy blue eyes. The look in them was eerie and there was no doubt that you were currently facing a madman. The unsettling gaze would pierce into your soul, tear down every wall you would try to build to protect yourself.\n\nThis man carried the name Anlith. And every farmer in the kingdom shared the same opinion about him: you didn't want him to visit you.\n\nAs soon as Anlith noticed terrified Phoel coming closer, a smile spread across his face. It was a vile, unnerving smile, something the madman tried to pass as polite, while in reality, he wanted to frighten people. Phoel had been having nightmares about that expression, that's how deeply rooted his fear for this man was.\n\n“Good morning, Phoel”, Anlith said with a sweet voice, but Phoel could hear pure malice behind every syllable that came out of his mouth.\n\n“M-morning, sir”, Phoel nervously replied and gave a clumsy bow to the man.\n\nThis gesture seemed to satisfy Anlith. He let his icy stare wander around the pig farmer's property before he spoke again: “Ah, it surely has been a while. But I see that your life has stayed the same since the last time I paid a visit.”\n\nOnce Phoel was in an upright position again, he anxiously rubbed his hands together, not really knowing how to carry this conversation so he decided to remain silent while the other man judged his pathetic farm he dared to call his home.\n\n“Well, then”, Anlith chirped after a brief moment of silence and he pinned his gaze at Phoel, making the pig farmer feel even more uncomfortable, if possible. “I'm sure you already know why I'm here. Once again, the king has bestowed me with the duty to collect pigs for him.”\n\n“O-of course, of course…” Phoel was muttering mostly to himself, rubbing his hands even more frantically, and he wanted to look away, but somehow the other man's cold stare had frozen him in his place.\n\nAnlith closed the gap between him and Phoel step by step and once he was close enough that their faces were just inches apart, he then calmly demanded: “Show me the pigs.”\n\nPhoel was just a nervous wreck. Fear clouded his mind, he couldn't think, he couldn't speak. His body moved on its own, but his movements were slow and stiff as if he was just a walking corpse. The walk to the barn felt like it lasted forever, Anlith following behind him like a shadow that just wanted to see him fail. The sound of Anlith's steps was haunting, giving Phoel the feeling that they were a countdown to an inevitable doom.\n\nThe pig farmer had somehow been able to stay sane as he led the king's man to the pens where the last remains of his livestock were held. But this was the worst part, this was the moment he had dreaded most. Phoel knew it in every cell of his body that something absolutely terrible was going to happen. When it was about Anlith, there were no other options.\n\nAnlith didn't utter a single word. He just stared at the piglets and the few fully grown animals that had unfortunately experienced some malnourishment just like the farmer and his family. Phoel could tell that the king's man wasn't pleased, not at all. The smile on his face was gone. Phoel couldn't read Anlith's expression and that just made him more and more distressed the longer Anlith remained quiet.\n\n“Oh, Phoel…” When he finally broke the silence, the pig farmer could hear extreme disappointment in his voice, but also some sort of sadistic delight as well; Anlith would be more than eager to figure out some sort of punishment for Phoel. The king's man shook his head and then he turned to face Phoel. “Tell me, what am I supposed to do with these? All of them, just wretches! They're not fit for the king!”\n\nAnlith's demeanor shifted entirely, Phoel hadn't seen him like this ever before. He started to pace around agitatedly, taking just a few steps to one direction only to change his course completely. The pig farmer could only watch his movements silently, being both bewildered and anxious. It was like somebody had broken Anlith's perfect porcelain face, he simply lost himself at that moment. And for a second, Phoel felt like Anlith was fearful as well, not wanting to disappoint the king. It was a valid fear. But, then Phoel stopped feeling sorry for Anlith after he realized that it would definitely be him who had to suffer the consequences.\n\n“Alright, alright…” Anlith came to a halt for a moment and raised his hands in the air. He turned to face Phoel, frowning, and said: “You better have a good explanation for this. Why is it that I don't see a single animal that could be used in the royal hunting ground?”\n\nHis inquiries were like a spear that pierced Phoel's heart. “I-I'm really sorry, sir! I truly am! But… but things have been really tough lately, you see… We don't have enough food and… and…”\n\n“Excuses!” Anlith roared, interrupting Phoel's pathetic attempt to redeem himself. “Excuses, excuses! It's your job to raise these pigs for the king and you're telling me that I have to go back empty-handed because you've been hungry?”\n\n“Please, sir!” Phoel was begging and he fell on his knees. “I already had to eat my own children to survive! If you could kindly give me a little bit more time so I can raise more pigs…”\n\n“Just make more children then”, Anlith stated heartlessly, his voice cold as ice. “You know it very well, Phoel, that when it's time for me to come and collect the pigs, you have to have them ready for me. I don't care about your pitiful little life. But I do care about that tiny fact that you're making my job harder right now.”\n\n“Please, don't execute me!” Phoel was almost crying at this point, still on his knees, fearing for the worst.\n\nAnlith was pacing around erratically once more, muttering something, but Phoel couldn't quite understand his words. The pig farmer remained in his position of despair, dreading the judgement of Anlith. The king's man's facial expressions changed multiple times, he was fighting in an inner conflict; Phoel couldn't really keep up with it. But suddenly something seemed to click within Anlith. He stopped and looked dazed for a while. However, soon his famous unsettling smile conquered his face again and he regained his calm character – it was like his little irregular phase hadn't even happened. He then faced Phoel once more and that insane smile froze Phoel's soul.\n\n“You know what, Phoel?” Anlith was using his sweet voice again and this shift in tone terrified the pig farmer. “I think I just got an idea that benefits both of us.”\n\n“Re-really?” Phoel didn't allow himself to be too hopeful; there definitely was some sort of twist the other man had in his mind. However, he got the impression that he wasn't necessarily facing a death penalty. Trembling and uncertain of his current situation, he still found strength to get on his feet.\n\n“Now, shall we go?” Anlith purred, motioning with his hand that they should leave the barn.\n\nPhoel, understandably, was confused about this. “Go? Do I need to go somewhere?”\n\n“Of course, you're coming with me”, Anlith replied with a vague answer.\n\nPhoel simply couldn't comprehend what was happening, but he figured he had no other options than to do as the king's man told him. He didn't dare to ask anything, he just followed Anlith who had already headed back outside. Anlith walked confidently towards the great carriage, ready to claim his spot on the wooden seat. Phoel moved sluggishly, nervously, noting that the gate of the metal structure was down, ready for pigs to come in. One of the men dressed in black was leaning against the metal, having quite an ill-disposed expression on his badly scarred face. He gave a quick glance at Anlith, then at Phoel, and he didn't look pleased at all.\n\n“Where's the pigs?” the man asked from Anlith, his voice so deep and hoarse Phoel had trouble understanding what he was saying. But just the mere tone of his voice was enough to evoke fear within the pig farmer.\n\n“We're not getting any from this farm, Myne”, Anlith responded as he climbed back on the seat. “Just let this gentleman in and we're good to go.”\n\n“Wh-what?” Phoel was utterly confused and he stared at the king's man with wide eyes.\n\nMyne didn't seem delighted after hearing this. “What a waste of fucking time…” He was muttering mostly to himself, but made it clear that the others could hear his words. He walked to the back of the container to make the preparations so they could leave.\n\nAnlith was peeking from his spot and as he noticed that Phoel hadn't moved even slightly, he said: “Unfortunately there's no room for you in the front. You have to travel with the pigs.”\n\nHis voice was calm and gentle, a feature that would be a lovely one if it wasn't coming from Anlith's mouth. And that deranged smile, the grin of a devil… Phoel had a very bad feeling about this, but he was also painfully aware of his position. His opinions didn't matter. He had no right to argue against the king's man.\n\n“I… uh…” Phoel could feel his guts twisting inside his stomach like a pile of snakes. “What about my wife? I… I need to tell her…”\n\n“Oh, don't you worry, she will get a word that you have to go away for a while”, Anlith responded and waved his hand in a disregarding manner, his gaze now fixed in front of him. “Now, please get in so we can continue our travels.”\n\nPhoel had never been this anxious in his entire life. He was barely able to control his body as he unwillingly walked to the back of the metal container where Myne was impatiently waiting for him. Metal rails were down and Phoel used them to get inside the spacious structure. The floor was covered with straws, but other than that, it was empty – except for a few pigs, a tribute from another farmer. A horrible feeling of inferiority filled Phoel as he observed how well-fed these animals were; they were big and healthy. The man got a little startled as Myne very loudly and unexpectedly raised the railing and back gate, shutting Phoel inside with the animals. Darkness surrounded him and the pigs since there weren't really sources of light, only a handful of thin holes close to the ceiling where the man could see fragments of grey outside world. Not long after Myne had closed him in, the strange carriage started to move, catching Phoel off guard and he almost fell down, somehow managing to keep his balance by leaning against a wall. Though, he soon surmised that it would be safer to just sit down, so he did. Like a lost child, his back against the cold and ruthless metal and his arms wrapped around his frail legs, he simply waited. There was nothing else he could do; his fate was in the hands of Anlith. The king's man had planted the seeds of terror in his mind and during this ride, those seeds would become blooming flowers of horror.\n\nThe metal creaked around him as if in pain, the clatter of the hooves was like a rumbling of thunder that carried him into the terrifying unknown and in the middle of this, the pigs remained calm and were just sniffing around, having no worries at all in their simple lives. Oh, how Phoel envied them at that moment. There was nothing but fear in his heart. Anlith was a sadistic mastermind; leaving Phoel in a total state of ignorance was the worst thing he could do to ensure a maximum terror within him. The pig farmer could only guess what was going to happen to him, his fragile mind frantically trying to make sense of his senseless situation. Often imagination could serve as an effective tool when it came to inducing dread. And in Phoel's case, this was exactly what was happening. The whole time he was sealed away in the container with the animals, his mind was acting against him, coming up with horrific scenarios, even when he tried to command himself to stop imagining these things. And having all this time for letting the thoughts run rampant in his head… Phoel felt like he was about to go insane.\n\nEvery now and then the carriage would stop and more pigs got loaded inside before heading to the next farm. Phoel was all alone with them, he felt completely uprooted even though taking care of this specific species of animals was something he had been doing for as long as he could remember. He had raised pigs for the king, those animals had been transported to wherever they were kept until the king would hunt them for sport and entertainment. And yet, here he was now, among the pigs, for a reason he didn't know and all the possibilities he could think of led to horror. Only Anlith knew what was going to happen.\n\nPhoel spent so much time shut in a metal cage with his vicious thoughts that his mind was shredded like paper. But time was still moving forward even if it felt like it didn't, and at some point, the carriage came to the final stop. Phoel wondered where they were now after minutes passed and nothing seemed to happen for a while. Through the holes he could hear people talking – most likely Anlith and Myne and the third one whose name Phoel didn't know – but he couldn't really distinguish any words, no matter how hard he tried. Then, the gate was opened again and Phoel was greeted by Myne's scarred face once more, still looking as displeased as ever.\n\n“Get out”, Myne bluntly commanded him as he put down the rails.\n\nHe didn't have to tell that twice for Phoel. The pig farmer was still as anxious as before, but he was glad he could leave the uncomfortable structure finally. As soon as he managed to get out of there and breathe in fresh air again, he started to look around his surroundings.\n\nHe actually recognized the place; he had been here once before. They were in the courtyard of king Liantraima's castle. Phoel and his whole family had travelled all the way from their farm to this place to witness the public execution of a wanted criminal, Hauim. Most of the folks of the kingdom had made the journey to watch the man getting hanged, not because they wanted to see the criminal dead but because it was seen as an offense if they didn't come. As a first thing after getting to the ground, Phoel's gaze wandered to the gallows where he had seen the final moments of a man that had been labeled as the enemy of the whole kingdom – but that wasn't the truth, it was just Liantraima's lies, everyone knew that. But of course, no one would say anything, no one would defend Hauim. Phoel could still feel the somberness in the air as he watched how the wind played with the empty noose. However, not even in his last moments, Hauim hadn't shown fear or remorse, he didn't submit to the mad king. Phoel and the rest had seen him die with a grin on his face. King Liantraima was never able to take away his dignity. In the hearts of many people, Hauim had died as a hero and had proven that they didn't have to bow to a wicked man. A noble idea, although that was all it was: an idea. People were too terrified to rise up against Liantraima.\n\nPhoel let his gaze wander around his surroundings. The king's castle was like a huge black dragon, lying on the ground, petrified and doomed to stay still until something would tear it apart. Wherever Phoel looked, there was a hideous gargoyle staring back at him. The castle looked so repulsive and unpleasant, especially right at that moment as the sundown had painted the sky crimson, so the king's home looked like a monster that was about to awaken and begin to hunt people purely out of bloodlust. There were a couple of smaller buildings around the courtyard, one was being the stable for the horses and the other one's purpose Phoel wasn't sure about. Maybe it was the holding place for the pigs?\n\n“Get out of the way”, Myne rasped out, his sudden voice causing Phoel to wince. Apologetically the pig farmer moved a little bit farther from the carriage.\n\nHe looked around the courtyard some more and his gaze was captivated by the rose bushes that decorated the area. The roses were so incredibly white, they were really standing out from the dark foliage. They were almost glowing. A handful of barren trees were standing here and there, their trunks black like night and there were a few white spots Phoel could distinguish from barks. Looking from this far away he couldn't be sure, but he got a nasty feeling that those trees had eyes. Phoel got shivers as he tried to imagine what kind of horrors the trees had witnessed.\n\nThe pig farmer almost jumped into the air when suddenly he felt someone's hand on his bony shoulder. The grip was firm, it could have as well been claws taking a hold of him.\n\n“Now, Phoel, let me show you your… hmm, guest room where you can stay”, Anlith murmured to his ear.\n\nPhoel was positive that this \"guest room\" wouldn't be exactly a nice place to stay, but as usual, he didn't have a choice. As Anlith lifted his hand from Phoel's shoulder, he began to walk towards the entrance of the castle. The pig farmer went after him, but to his surprise, they didn't use the main entrance. Instead, Anlith decided to use a small side door that had been almost hidden by the rose bushes. He opened the wooden door and gestured to Phoel to head inside. The frightened man did as the king's man wanted, finding himself from a narrow corridor. He looked around, but there was nothing but walls around him and a few candles that had been lit so people could see around. It became immediately darker when Anlith closed the door behind him, then he turned left and started to guide Phoel again. The pig farmer felt really uncomfortable; it was like he was trapped inside a stone. And this sensation just kept growing as he followed Anlith.\n\nA couple of servants bypassed the two men as they walked through the castle. Phoel couldn't help but notice how contemptuously they glared at him, like he was a filthy parasite of some sort. And truthfully, he couldn't argue against that. He was the lowest of the low. And perhaps these servants, as residents of this castle, were carrying dark hearts in their chests, the wicked structure itself had dyed them black. A starved pig farmer would get no pity from them. Phoel had an ill feeling in his stomach for he knew that he didn't belong here, but for some reason, Anlith wanted to bring him to the castle. He still was as clueless as ever, but even at this point, Phoel couldn't muster courage to ask Anlith what he had in mind.\n\nThe king's man had guided him through a few corridors and twists and turns, but at some point Anlith directed Phoel to a set of stairs that led downwards. Somehow this made Phoel even more distressed, as if he was walking into the belly of a beast where he wouldn't get out of. And still he followed the king's man, down to the abyss. The pig farmer noted that the air was getting colder the deeper they went. Soon after he made this observation and was thinking of the cause behind the phenomenon, they suddenly came to the end of stairs, finding themselves from a round room. There was just a grand iron door that led further in and a small table accompanied by a couple of chairs. At that moment, one of those chairs was in use as a woman was sitting on it, playing around with a knife.\n\n“Good evening, Ronna”, Anlith said with a smile. “Could you please show Phoel here a place to stay? He's our visitor for the night.”\n\nThe woman's face had been hiding behind a black hood, but Phoel was able to get a glance at her when she looked at him. Much to Phoel's surprise, Ronna was a very young woman and quite attractive, too, making him wonder what she was doing in a place like this. But although she was beautiful, she had a horrible, deranged smile, much like Anlith.\n\nThe king's man patted Phoel's shoulder a couple of times. “Well, Ronna is going to take care of you now. I'll be making preparations and then I'll come back and get you, alright?”\n\nPreparations? Preparations for what? As usual, Phoel wasn't able to utter a single word. He gave a quick glimpse at Anlith's receding figure, but soon he focused on the woman he had been left alone with. Ronna had stood up from her seat and made her way to the iron door. Phoel could hear a clinking of keys as the woman unlocked the door; it was heavy and made an ear-piercing sound as it was opened. Ronna looked at him and tilted her head a little.\n\n“Come”, she said to him, her voice as sweet as her appearance, but that unsettling grin of hers made him terrified.\n\nNonetheless, the pig farmer was as obedient as ever. He walked towards her and once he was close, Ronna headed inside the area that lied beyond the iron door. As Phoel walked past the door frame, he realized that they were in a prison. Rows of cells on both sides, all them guarded by metal doors. The area was very dimly lit, only a few torches on the walls tried to banish the darkness away. But they were weak and their feeble flames were smothered by the great blackness which the castle was emitting. Ronna continued to walk forward until almost the end of the hallway and she pulled open one of the doors.\n\n“Here, a place just for you”, Ronna informed Phoel in a mocking tone.\n\nWith uncertain steps he walked inside and as soon as he did, the door was slammed shut behind him, locking him in. Phoel glanced back and met Ronna's disturbing gaze looking at him through the narrow rectangle-shaped hole that was on the door. She looked excited for some reason and the pig farmer probably couldn't understand what was going on in her twisted mind.\n\n“I bet Anlith has something wonderful in mind for you”, Ronna teased the man. “I like him. I think you'll learn to like him too.”\n\nThis was just utter nonsense in Phoel's ears, he simply couldn't fathom what she meant. But the way she spoke these words was definitely sinister. Without saying anything else or waiting for a response from Phoel, Ronna walked away whistling and it echoed eerily in the prison area until the great iron door was closed. However, silence didn't descend in this forsaken place. Somebody was howling in a very animalistic way in their cell. Somebody was sobbing as if they had lost all hope. And somebody was speaking words Phoel couldn't understand, keeping his voice very low. It felt threatening somehow. The pig farmer still couldn't get rid of his anxiety; he didn't belong here. This place was for criminals and madmen, he was neither.\n\nPhoel looked around his cell, soon coming to the conclusion that there wasn't much to observe. A stack of dry hay was on the floor. A rusty bucket had been left in the corner. A set of shackles were attached to the stone wall. Phoel walked to the haystack and sat down on it. It wasn't comfortable, but still better than sitting on a cold and hard floor. He wrapped his arms around his legs, taking the same position as when he was being transported to the castle with the pigs. He was all alone and didn't know what was going to happen to him. He had no idea how long he would be stuck in this cell. Not knowing anything was torturous to Phoel. But he could only wait. While listening to the various sounds from the neighboring cells, Phoel was just sitting, waiting for the time to pass. At some point, however, the exhaustion started to take its toll, and even though he was feeling frightened and was afraid of falling asleep, he had to accept that he was too tired. He curled up on top of the hay and closed his eyes, the mad noises lulling him to sleep like a lullaby of a deranged mother. And in his dreams, the unsettling smile of Anlith wouldn't leave him be. \n\nHe was suddenly awakened from his slumber when he heard the metal creak. Although he was still in a sleepy state, he instinctively got up and stared at the door to see who had come for him.\n\nAs expected, it was Anlith and Ronna. The woman stayed behind with an expression that made it look like she was very much amused by something. Anlith stepped forward with a gentle smile on his face, but nothing could have terrified Phoel more.\n\n“My apologies for disturbing your sleep”, Anlith said in a courteous way. “I hope Ronna took good care of you.” The king's man looked up and down as if examining Phoel for some reason. “Now, I ask for your assistance with something. Follow me, please.”\n\nAnlith stepped out of the cell and with shaky steps, Phoel went after him. It was like he was being torn apart: at least now he would finally find out what Anlith had been planning, but did he really want to know? Phoel hesitated a little, getting a bit behind, but then felt something sharp being held against his back. He figured it was Ronna's knife. The message was very clear and he hastened his pace to follow after Anlith. They all walked out of the prison area, Ronna closing the great iron door behind them, leaving all the wretched prisoners abandoned within the black rock once more. Ronna took her usual place by the table, playing with her knife, while Anlith and Phoel began to ascend the stairs.\n\nThe king's man was offering his guidance through the black castle yet again and Phoel couldn't do anything else but to go along. He was glad to leave the prison behind, but he was certain that they weren't heading to a better place. Nonetheless, he was trapped. There was no way he could make it out of the castle if he tried to run away from Anlith. The king's man had to bark a single command and one of the guards would pierce him with a spear and spill his guts out. Even the thought of dying in a gruesome way gave Phoel shivers and an unpleasant feeling that something was crawling under his skin. Maybe following and agreeing to assist him with whatever he was planning was a better option.\n\nPhoel could have never guessed what sort of cruelty Anlith had in mind.\n\nOnce Anlith had led the pig farmer through the many corridors of the castle to the point that Phoel had completely lost his sense of direction, he finally took him to the hallway where a single door was waiting at the end. Phoel had an absolutely bad feeling about where the door in question was leading to, as if it was radiating with some mad energy. It was a dark wooden door that had seen better days and was covered in unexplainable scratch marks and cuts. As the two men were getting closer, the air itself started to feel heavy and Phoel felt an odd pressure surrounding him. Anlith took a rusty key from his pocket and opened up the door. The hinges made such a piercing sound that Phoel felt like something had just cut his brain.\n\n“After you”, Anlith said in a polite way, but as usual, it was just carefully crafted mockery.\n\nNevertheless, Phoel stepped inside. So did Anlith and he locked the door behind them. The key's clicking in the lock was the sound that marked the end for Phoel's humanity.\n\nThe more Phoel looked around, the more distressed he became. It wasn't a spacious room, but it was filled with terror. There were candles scattered around, giving some sort of illumination as there were no windows. Two long tables lined the left and right side of the room. Various instruments were lying on them, clearly created for inflicting torment, even though Phoel couldn't tell what most of them were even used for. There was a huge stain of dried-up blood on the floor, telling a grim story of what had happened here. At the center of the room lied a different kind of table, there were a handful of bindings on it, meant to restrain someone. It did occur to Phoel very soon that this someone was him.\n\n“Cozy, isn't it?” Anlith purred right by his side. “This room had a different kind of purpose before, but I just modified it into a little workshop of sorts.”\n\n“Wh-what do you need me for?” It was a question Phoel was afraid to ask, but at the same time, he hoped that the king's man would give him an answer that was different from what he was dreading.\n\n“Oh, it's just a little experimental operation”, Anlith responded with a cheerful tone. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Rest on the middle table.”\n\nPhoel stayed still, completely captured by fear. He wanted out, but the only exit was locked. Such great lengths were his distress that he contemplated fighting against the king's man and taking the key by force. Odds weren't in his favor, though, as he was much more frail than Anlith. He needed a weapon and luckily there was a whole collection of sharp tools. Phoel scanned the two side tables, looking for something he could use. But he was interrupted by Anlith who had grasped his shoulder without warning and started to drag him towards the center of the room of horrors by his arm. Phoel tried to struggle, but he was too weak, the king's man overpowered him easily.\n\n“Now, don't be so bothersome”, Anlith scolded him as he pulled him to the table. “This is going to happen, Phoel. With or without your consent.”\n\nPhoel's natural instinct for being submissive kicked in again and he gave up his struggle. The king's man was right, it didn't matter whether he consented or not, he was all alone in a castle full of blackhearted people. Phoel's movements were stiff as he climbed on the table and lied down on it. Anlith proceeded to tie him up with the bindings, restraining him from his neck and torso and from two different parts of all of limbs. The king's man made sure they were all as tight as possible, not leaving Phoel any room for movement.\n\nAnlith was whistling as he moved around the small room and not being in any hurry just induced even more terror within Phoel. The pig farmer couldn't tell what the king's man was doing as the binding on his neck kept his head in place. But at this point Phoel was familiar with Anlith's tactics; not telling anything about his schemes and prolonging the phase of fearful ignorance was where his excellence lies. It was still effective, it was very much effective.\n\n“So, Phoel, how do you think we should begin?” Anlith asked after a while, but his back was turned to Phoel. When he turned around to face him, Phoel made a horrid note that the king's man was now holding a saw and smiled in a very unnerving way. “What's that look? Oh, right, I haven't told you about the operation.”\n\nAnlith ran his index finger on the surface of the metal as Phoel lied on the table helplessly, completely at the mercy of this madman. “You gave me an idea, back at that barn of yours. Since you didn't have pigs for me, I figured that you could do your contribution in another way.” Anlith stopped caressing the metal and grinned at Phoel. “By becoming a pig yourself.”\n\n“W-what?!” Phoel squealed weakly, the terror in his throat suffocating him so his voice was barely audible.\n\nIt was still noticeable enough for the king's man who seemed to get some sick pleasure from his fear. Anlith's grin grew even wider. “Of course, we have to do a few modifications on your body.” He started to pace around the table, running his hand across various parts of Phoel's body. “Your limbs are too long; we have to shorten them. And your ears need to be stretched somehow, I know we'll find a way. I also think that your tongue needs to be cut off. Pigs don't talk, after all.”\n\nPhoel prayed that he was just having the worst nightmare of his life, that all of this was just a dream. He pleaded to be woken up; this was just too much. If he had known what Anlith planned, he would have never stepped inside this cursed castle.\n\nHis silent prayers went unheard and the sudden pain inflicted by cold ruthless metal filled Phoel's head, causing him to scream so loud he hadn't let out so much noise ever before in his life. Anlith hadn't given him any warning as he had started to saw off one of his arms, the sharp blade of the tool moving back and forth, infiltrating deeper and deeper into Phoel's flesh. He was helpless, still trying to struggle against his bonds, but they were too strong. It was just pure torment for Phoel, especially when Anlith was cutting through his bone as it required more force. The pain was excruciating and after a moment that had lasted way too long, Anlith had been able to saw off half of Phoel's arm. But of course, this had to be repeated three more times.\n\n“You're doing great, my friend”, Anlith said mockingly while he was bandaging Phoel's crudely amputated arm. “But let me tell you something that might help you get through this: you are guaranteed to be well fed.”\n\nOf course this information was useless painkiller. The horrible agony Phoel had to go through again and again as Anlith saw off all of his limbs was unimaginable, even Phoel couldn't believe it was possible. His screams and cries of pain were contained within Anlith's little torture chamber, no one could hear him. Even if they did, they wouldn't care at all, because Phoel's pathetic life didn't matter. He was bleeding on the table where some drops fell on the filthy floor, mixing in with the old blood that still stained it, both of them talking about the horror story that took place in the same room. Phoel's suffering reached a peak that made him faint on the table. While he was unconscious, Anlith was able to finish his torturous operation, all limbs amputated and wrapped in bandages. After that he had switched his tool from saw to scissors and cut off Phoel's tongue.\n\nAnlith was almost done, he only had to place his experimental devices on Phoel's ears that would stretch them. They were strange little mechanical gadgets that would stay in place by piercing the auricle. Weights were attached to the bottom that would supposedly stretch the ears over time. Once Anlith was done with putting them in place, he stopped to admire his own work.\n\nHe was very much pleased with himself; he had just proven that it would be possible to make more pigs for the hunting ground. This one just had to gain some weight, but that shouldn't be a problem. After this successful operation, he was eager to make more, to try different techniques, break the mold. He could create a whole new kind of pig for king Liantraima, he would probably be very satisfied with his work. Anlith grinned widely like a madman, caressing Phoel's cheek tenderly.\n\n“Oh, Phoel, how can I ever repay you?” he whispered to the unconscious man.\n\nThen he left the room, leaving the door unlocked while Phoel was still lying on the table. He just had to inform some men to come and transfer him to the building where the pigs were kept. It would become Phoel's new home.\n\nWhen Anlith saw Phoel the next time, the pig farmer had completely succumbed to his assigned role. It was nighttime when the king's man had decided to pay a visit to the royal barn where the pigs were kept until they would be transferred to the hunting ground and that was planned to happen tomorrow. Anlith had traversed through the darkness alone, like a devil who has nothing to fear, and entered the building just to check and see how the animals were doing before their big day. The smell of filth pestered his nose as he got inside, it was unpleasant but he could tolerate it for a minute. The barn was dimly lit with lanterns that held glowing sprites inside of them, kept captive against their will and they would have to remain imprisoned until the end of their miserable lives. The building consisted of many pens, each of them holding a handful of pigs. At this late hour, most of them were asleep, but there were a couple of individuals that were still snuffling around. Anlith glanced left and right, making a quick check up of every animal. They had grown big, just the way king Liantraima liked. If they were good enough for the king, then they were for Anlith as well.\n\nEventually Anlith had walked past the pens that held regular pigs. Then he reached the ones where his latest additions resided. That was when he stopped on his tracks and watched his creations.\n\nPhoel had gained a group of new friends, it made Anlith happy. Their behavior was no different from the regular pigs, most of them were laying on their bed of straws, but a few were rummaging around their pens. They were doing surprisingly well moving around with their stumps, living like animals. They had grown quite well, too, Anlith could barely recognize Phoel as his formerly frail figure had increased in size so much. He was a fat ugly pig now, forgotten who he used to be. The feed Anlith had specifically invented for his pigs had done an excellent job at growing these sad creatures. Their animal brain desired nothing else but eating and breeding, but they had also become a little aggressive lately. But that was a good thing, Anlith was sure the king would find it delightful.\n\nFor a while the king's man remained standing there, looking at the wretched beings he had stripped from their humanity. He was proud of himself, even though his creations were the most hideous abominations he had ever seen. And tomorrow he would find out if they played their role well on the royal hunting ground. Anlith hadn't felt this excited in years regarding the hunt. He grinned to himself and started to walk out of the building. Let the pigs rest, they would have an important day ahead of them.\n\nThe morning came with a blood red sun that began its sacred duty as the provider of light and life. Perhaps it was a sign of the upcoming spilling of blood when the hunt would begin. Various servants were already doing their work with the preparations when the sun was just rising up to the cloudless sky. The pigs were fed before they would be moved. The same metal structure where Phoel had first arrived at the castle was set up again to transport the animals to the hunting ground. Eight horses were ready to pull the container once more, they obediently stayed still while servants were guiding the pigs inside. Anlith was supervising this task from the side, to make sure everything would go smoothly. One by one the pigs were loaded inside and they behaved well, much to Anlith's satisfaction. Even Phoel and his friends acted nicely even though they had shown aggressive behavior lately. Maybe they just were feeling content because they had just eaten. Nonetheless, they were soon ready to head out and the odd carriage began to move, rumbling like thunder once they got on the roads, their destination set at the royal hunting ground.\n\nThe travel lasted a couple of hours and during those hours the sun had managed to rise higher into the sky. It was still dressed in the color of blood, dyeing the heavens with this hue. It just made everything around the royal hunting ground more ominous, since the road there was guarded by trees with black trunks and no leaves – it was a cursed area. King Liantraima had taken an unnatural liking to this place, it was previously a part of another kingdom but Liantraima, being the warmonger he was, robbed these lands from them and turned it into his hunting ground so he could satisfy his sick need to hunt down and kill living beings. But these parts were haunted and even these days screams of the dead could be heard from the woods, never to be freed from their agony.\n\nEventually the carriage arrived at its destination. The horses stopped on a plain yard, their hooves causing puffs of dust to linger above ground which was made of reddish sand. A small black building was standing in this plot of land, it was like a miniature version of king Liantraima's castle. It was his little place to stay and relax before and after hunting. A smaller but much more grandeur chariot was standing near the black building, indicating that the king had already arrived and was waiting inside. Anlith, who had been sitting on his usual spot at the front of the carriage, hopped on the dry ground and began his job as the supervisor while servants prepared to transfer the pigs to their final stay. A huge area had been confined with a sturdy fence made from black metal, making sharp shapes and had barbed wire tied around it as well. Not even the most vicious beast would get through or over it. There was a little shelter made from wood meant for the pigs and that was also one of the access points to the hunting ground. The servants created a temporary path with portable pieces of fences and let the pigs walk from the container to the shelter through this narrow walkway. Anlith was pleased as everything was going according to plan and soon all the pigs had got transferred where they were supposed to be. The servants had shut the animals in their last enclosure and thus, everything was ready for the king to begin his hunt.\n\nThe pigs seemed to enjoy their new little dwelling, snuffing around and exploring the fenced area. It was a vast space, the plain was only one part of it, but it stretched even to the woods. King Liantraima let the pigs scatter around a bit before beginning; he was standing on a balcony together with Anlith. From there they were able to view the hunting ground and much to Anlith's delight, the king appeared to be pleased with what he was seeing. There was a mad gleam in his dark but aged eyes and his thin figure was practically shivering from excitement. He was a withering old man already, but his desire to hurt other beings kept him up. There was a surprising amount of malice hidden underneath the husk of an elderly man. He was ghostly pale and had a long white beard, making him look like a corpse that had risen from his grave and come back to haunt the living. The golden crown in his head was his symbol of power, but he had been so paranoid about somebody stealing it from him that he had gone through a procedure, performed by dark magic, that the gold had dug inside his head and grew roots so it would be impossible to snatch it from him. Perhaps it also made him more mad and wicked.\n\n“I can feel it, Anlith!” Liantraima was wheezing from excitement. “The wind! The wind is telling me that today is a fine day to hunt! And the pigs, oh the pigs, they're excellent this time!”\n\n“I'm pleased to hear that, sir”, Anlith responded and gave the king a slight respectful bow.\n\n“It's time! It's time!” the king rasped out and headed back inside the building, leaving Anlith alone on the balcony. The king's man had decided to stay there and watch the hunt from that spot.\n\nA moment passed by as Anlith stood in his place, but eventually he saw a handful of guards entering the hunting ground and spreading out, all of them carrying muskets. Soon after them, the king himself made his appearance and he had a musket in his hands as well, even though it looked way too powerful and big for a frail man like him to handle. All the men on the hunting ground were armed, but even so, they were all about to get slaughtered and Anlith had front seat tickets for this gory play.\n\nAnlith's creations had almost immediately decided that the guards were a threat that had to be eliminated. They charged at the men, surprisingly fast with their stumps, and even though the guards tried to shoot them, they were unable to bring the pigs down. One by one the men got mauled by the Anlith's special pigs, but the other animals joined in and started to eat the guards when they were still alive. It was a horrific scene, screams filling the air, blood staining the ground. King Liantraima didn't waste time when he noted that his guards were unable to defend themselves against these monstrosities and tried to waddle away, back into the building, but to his dismay, he would share the same fate.\n\nThe king didn't even manage to use his musket when a couple of pigs knocked him down, a few more joining them as they started to tear him apart. His screams were horrible to hear, shocking all the servants in the area. And Anlith just watched, witnessed the last moments of the mad king that had just wanted entertainment by hunting animals. Liantraima's limbs were torn, his guts spilled, various organs scattered around and the more pigs gormandized with his blood, the more drunk they became from it, wanting more and more. The pigs ate the king and his last screams would join in with the ones these woods held.\n\n“We should have removed their teeth”, Anlith muttered to himself as he continued to watch the horrendous play.\n\nAll these men, regarding themselves as important individuals and yet, now they were nothing more than pig food. Life worked in a strange way sometimes.\n\n“Ah well, maybe next time.” Anlith grinned like a devil and leaned against the stone railing and observed how the pigs ate every piece of meat they could find. Once there was none, they let out a dreadful squeak in unison and began to dash toward the woods. Perhaps they were still bloodthirsty. Perhaps they would become the inhabitants of these cursed parts now. Anlith was curious to see what kind of beasts they could evolve into. After all, they were his beautiful, horrible abominations.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Oh, the sweet little ones, sleeping so soundly, not even the horrid creak of the door to their bedroom disturbed their dreams. A pale beam of light managed to sneak into the room of the two children and in that light stood a tall and very skinny figure, like a bogeyman from the tales they had heard so many times before going to bed. The man had long thin fingers and he was nervously fumbling with the handle of a knife, as if he couldn't find a comfortable way to hold the tool in his hands. He watched how the children, a girl and a boy, were resting peacefully, and he could feel an awful wrench in his gut as he prepared for the horrible deed he was about to do. But it was for the best, that's what he told himself repeatedly in his head, it was like a mantra. These children should be thriving, but their bodies had withered away into mere twigs and in their future, there was nothing else but more starvation and suffering. They shouldn't have even been brought into this world to begin with. If nothing else, it should be mercy guiding the man's blade.

Another shadow appeared by his side on the beam of light and the man could feel a touch on his shoulder; gentle but weak, supportive but helpless. His beloved wife. They had discussed this for hours, days, and the thought had never become easier to accept. They had cried until there had been no more tears left to shed, they had shared the guilt for bringing these sweet little children into this world and together they had lamented the fate of their family. In the end, they both knew that there was only one thing they could do. Feeling the woman's grasp on his shoulder tightening for a brief moment as a sign of encouragement, the man took a couple hesitant steps towards the bed of the girl. He was shaking, he felt disgusted with himself, but he was well aware that this had to be done. He had butchered many pigs before, this shouldn't be much different, right? The man took a deep breath and quickly slit open the sleeping girl's throat. Her eyes opened wide as the deadly blade cut her skin and flesh and nothing could have prepared the man for the haunting look in her eyes as the blood was flowing out of her fragile body and stained her bed. The shock, the confusion, the disbelief… Why would her own father do this? The man had to turn away; he knew that she would lose consciousness soon, anyway. He walked towards the bed of the little boy who was still happily dreaming, blissfully unaware of what was happening around him. Just one more quick slash… In his mind he begged for forgiveness as he let the blade cut innocent flesh once more and as he saw that river of blood gushing down, he turned away, not wanting to face the crimes he had just committed. He dragged his feet across the floor until he came to the doorway where his wife had been observing all this time and she wrapped her bony arms around him.

The bodies of the children were malnourished, but there should still be something usable in them. Now they would feed their parents, even if just slightly.

Every day was a struggle. Hunger had been the acquaintance of Phoel for as long as he could remember. It was almost impossible for him to be able to imagine what life would be like if he could feed his family regularly. As a pig farmer, one could think that he would be able to provide meat for his wife and children. But pigs were worth more than a human life. He wasn't raising these animals for himself. Life had never been easy for him, but as of late, things had been worse than ever before. Starvation was lurking around the corner, persistent like a plague. In the end, it had taken Phoel's children away from him, as it had forced his hand to commit atrocities and then feed on their bodies so he and his wife could cling onto life a while longer. More than anything else, Phoel feared death.

The famishment tried its best to destroy the sad and misery-ridden life of Phoel. After eating his children, his options with getting some sort of nourishment to feed his wretched body were becoming increasingly scarce. Death was knocking on his door, on his walls during the dark hours while he would lie in bed, unable to sleep. Crops aren't growing. There was barely any money left in his savings. Out of desperation, Phoel then started to eat the pigs he had so carefully raised. It was either them or him. Little did he know, this action would change his life in a horrifying way.

He had got out of bed assuming that it was like any other day. Phoel, a slave of anguish, had dragged himself out of his house that was in a state of disrepair, but it was just one more detail in a long list of things he couldn't do anything about. The wind was cold and cruel that morning, biting Phoel's skin, and violently toying with helpless trees, bending them however it wanted and it also banged the broken window shutters. The sky was cloudy and grey, a forlorn state which had continued for too long already. Phoel eagerly waited for the day when he would see the sun's face again. The man walked like a living dead across the yard which was pretty much just sand and tufts of dry grass, heading towards the barn where he kept the pigs. The building was in a slightly better condition, reflecting the harsh reality that pigs were more valuable than him or his wife. It wasn't the life he had chosen; no one would choose a life like this.

Upon entering the barn, Phoel got punched in the face by hopelessness. There weren't many pigs left and most of those he still had were just piglets. The number of animals had decreased rapidly as of late and the man had no idea how to recover from this. Phoel walked to one of the pens and leaned against its railing, watching how the young animals were happily going around and sniffing the straws that covered their little environment. What a twisted world this was, Phoel pondered as he continued to observe the mundane activities of the piglets. The lives of these animals were better than those of his own children. But he simply didn't have the right to question it, he had to do as was told.

Phoel had been filling the food bins with grains when he heard the worst possible sounds there were in that situation, he could practically feel his heart freezing from fear. The hooves of horses were clattering against the dry land like a rhythm of demise, each of their steps bringing closer misfortune for Phoel – he just didn't know for sure what kind of horrors were about to become reality. The wheels of a heavy cart were whimpering softly as the strong majestic animals pulled the load. For a brief moment, Phoel became a living statue, his weak and malnourished body frozen while doing his daily tasks before terror struck his heart.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Barely any sound left his mouth as he moved his lips, repeating the same word over and over again as if that would somehow make his situation better. Of course, it didn't. The ominous sounds stopped after a while. Phoel knew he had to go outside and greet the arrival, but he would rather get his ears cut off from his head. Nonetheless, he put down the bucket he had just emptied and slowly walked out of the barn.

Phoel's very presence was nothing but meekness as he stepped outside. The first thing that hit his vision was a huge structure made of metal, resembling a lot like those dreary cages where prisoners were put whenever they were transported around. This monstrosity was being pulled by eight horses, all of them strong, energetic and healthy – their good condition perplexed Phoel, for how could anything thrive like that in this cursed land? They were regal animals, however, so maybe that was why. At the front of the metal container was a wooden seat, wide enough for three men to sit at the same time. With uncertain steps Phoel walked towards this seat, noting how two figures hopped down to the ground while the third one remained stationary, holding the reins in his hands. The man that stayed on the seat and one of those who had decided to get off were rather vapid folks, both dressed in bland black outfits that made them blend onto the background so well that they practically became one with their environment. They were like shadows; dark figures that were there, but no one would pay attention to them. The third man, on the other hand…

He was a complete opposite, someone that was hard to not notice. He had an impeccable posture and his lavish attire was dominated by bright blue color, toned down slightly with some white as well. A little bit of gold had been sprinkled around, too. The man was wearing a top hat, continuing his taste for blue, and there were a few yellow feathers with black stripes decorating the hat. His short blond hair was well kept and his pale skin seemed almost flawless. The man definitely let it show that he had a high status, but you would forget everything else about him once he would take a look at you with his cold, icy blue eyes. The look in them was eerie and there was no doubt that you were currently facing a madman. The unsettling gaze would pierce into your soul, tear down every wall you would try to build to protect yourself.

This man carried the name Anlith. And every farmer in the kingdom shared the same opinion about him: you didn't want him to visit you.

As soon as Anlith noticed terrified Phoel coming closer, a smile spread across his face. It was a vile, unnerving smile, something the madman tried to pass as polite, while in reality, he wanted to frighten people. Phoel had been having nightmares about that expression, that's how deeply rooted his fear for this man was.

“Good morning, Phoel”, Anlith said with a sweet voice, but Phoel could hear pure malice behind every syllable that came out of his mouth.

“M-morning, sir”, Phoel nervously replied and gave a clumsy bow to the man.

This gesture seemed to satisfy Anlith. He let his icy stare wander around the pig farmer's property before he spoke again: “Ah, it surely has been a while. But I see that your life has stayed the same since the last time I paid a visit.”

Once Phoel was in an upright position again, he anxiously rubbed his hands together, not really knowing how to carry this conversation so he decided to remain silent while the other man judged his pathetic farm he dared to call his home.

“Well, then”, Anlith chirped after a brief moment of silence and he pinned his gaze at Phoel, making the pig farmer feel even more uncomfortable, if possible. “I'm sure you already know why I'm here. Once again, the king has bestowed me with the duty to collect pigs for him.”

“O-of course, of course…” Phoel was muttering mostly to himself, rubbing his hands even more frantically, and he wanted to look away, but somehow the other man's cold stare had frozen him in his place.

Anlith closed the gap between him and Phoel step by step and once he was close enough that their faces were just inches apart, he then calmly demanded: “Show me the pigs.”

Phoel was just a nervous wreck. Fear clouded his mind, he couldn't think, he couldn't speak. His body moved on its own, but his movements were slow and stiff as if he was just a walking corpse. The walk to the barn felt like it lasted forever, Anlith following behind him like a shadow that just wanted to see him fail. The sound of Anlith's steps was haunting, giving Phoel the feeling that they were a countdown to an inevitable doom.

The pig farmer had somehow been able to stay sane as he led the king's man to the pens where the last remains of his livestock were held. But this was the worst part, this was the moment he had dreaded most. Phoel knew it in every cell of his body that something absolutely terrible was going to happen. When it was about Anlith, there were no other options.

Anlith didn't utter a single word. He just stared at the piglets and the few fully grown animals that had unfortunately experienced some malnourishment just like the farmer and his family. Phoel could tell that the king's man wasn't pleased, not at all. The smile on his face was gone. Phoel couldn't read Anlith's expression and that just made him more and more distressed the longer Anlith remained quiet.

“Oh, Phoel…” When he finally broke the silence, the pig farmer could hear extreme disappointment in his voice, but also some sort of sadistic delight as well; Anlith would be more than eager to figure out some sort of punishment for Phoel. The king's man shook his head and then he turned to face Phoel. “Tell me, what am I supposed to do with these? All of them, just wretches! They're not fit for the king!”

Anlith's demeanor shifted entirely, Phoel hadn't seen him like this ever before. He started to pace around agitatedly, taking just a few steps to one direction only to change his course completely. The pig farmer could only watch his movements silently, being both bewildered and anxious. It was like somebody had broken Anlith's perfect porcelain face, he simply lost himself at that moment. And for a second, Phoel felt like Anlith was fearful as well, not wanting to disappoint the king. It was a valid fear. But, then Phoel stopped feeling sorry for Anlith after he realized that it would definitely be him who had to suffer the consequences.

“Alright, alright…” Anlith came to a halt for a moment and raised his hands in the air. He turned to face Phoel, frowning, and said: “You better have a good explanation for this. Why is it that I don't see a single animal that could be used in the royal hunting ground?”

His inquiries were like a spear that pierced Phoel's heart. “I-I'm really sorry, sir! I truly am! But… but things have been really tough lately, you see… We don't have enough food and… and…”

“Excuses!” Anlith roared, interrupting Phoel's pathetic attempt to redeem himself. “Excuses, excuses! It's your job to raise these pigs for the king and you're telling me that I have to go back empty-handed because you've been hungry?”

“Please, sir!” Phoel was begging and he fell on his knees. “I already had to eat my own children to survive! If you could kindly give me a little bit more time so I can raise more pigs…”

“Just make more children then”, Anlith stated heartlessly, his voice cold as ice. “You know it very well, Phoel, that when it's time for me to come and collect the pigs, you have to have them ready for me. I don't care about your pitiful little life. But I do care about that tiny fact that you're making my job harder right now.”

“Please, don't execute me!” Phoel was almost crying at this point, still on his knees, fearing for the worst.

Anlith was pacing around erratically once more, muttering something, but Phoel couldn't quite understand his words. The pig farmer remained in his position of despair, dreading the judgement of Anlith. The king's man's facial expressions changed multiple times, he was fighting in an inner conflict; Phoel couldn't really keep up with it. But suddenly something seemed to click within Anlith. He stopped and looked dazed for a while. However, soon his famous unsettling smile conquered his face again and he regained his calm character – it was like his little irregular phase hadn't even happened. He then faced Phoel once more and that insane smile froze Phoel's soul.

“You know what, Phoel?” Anlith was using his sweet voice again and this shift in tone terrified the pig farmer. “I think I just got an idea that benefits both of us.”

“Re-really?” Phoel didn't allow himself to be too hopeful; there definitely was some sort of twist the other man had in his mind. However, he got the impression that he wasn't necessarily facing a death penalty. Trembling and uncertain of his current situation, he still found strength to get on his feet.

“Now, shall we go?” Anlith purred, motioning with his hand that they should leave the barn.

Phoel, understandably, was confused about this. “Go? Do I need to go somewhere?”

“Of course, you're coming with me”, Anlith replied with a vague answer.

Phoel simply couldn't comprehend what was happening, but he figured he had no other options than to do as the king's man told him. He didn't dare to ask anything, he just followed Anlith who had already headed back outside. Anlith walked confidently towards the great carriage, ready to claim his spot on the wooden seat. Phoel moved sluggishly, nervously, noting that the gate of the metal structure was down, ready for pigs to come in. One of the men dressed in black was leaning against the metal, having quite an ill-disposed expression on his badly scarred face. He gave a quick glance at Anlith, then at Phoel, and he didn't look pleased at all.

“Where's the pigs?” the man asked from Anlith, his voice so deep and hoarse Phoel had trouble understanding what he was saying. But just the mere tone of his voice was enough to evoke fear within the pig farmer.

“We're not getting any from this farm, Myne”, Anlith responded as he climbed back on the seat. “Just let this gentleman in and we're good to go.”

“Wh-what?” Phoel was utterly confused and he stared at the king's man with wide eyes.

Myne didn't seem delighted after hearing this. “What a waste of fucking time…” He was muttering mostly to himself, but made it clear that the others could hear his words. He walked to the back of the container to make the preparations so they could leave.

Anlith was peeking from his spot and as he noticed that Phoel hadn't moved even slightly, he said: “Unfortunately there's no room for you in the front. You have to travel with the pigs.”

His voice was calm and gentle, a feature that would be a lovely one if it wasn't coming from Anlith's mouth. And that deranged smile, the grin of a devil… Phoel had a very bad feeling about this, but he was also painfully aware of his position. His opinions didn't matter. He had no right to argue against the king's man.

“I… uh…” Phoel could feel his guts twisting inside his stomach like a pile of snakes. “What about my wife? I… I need to tell her…”

“Oh, don't you worry, she will get a word that you have to go away for a while”, Anlith responded and waved his hand in a disregarding manner, his gaze now fixed in front of him. “Now, please get in so we can continue our travels.”

Phoel had never been this anxious in his entire life. He was barely able to control his body as he unwillingly walked to the back of the metal container where Myne was impatiently waiting for him. Metal rails were down and Phoel used them to get inside the spacious structure. The floor was covered with straws, but other than that, it was empty – except for a few pigs, a tribute from another farmer. A horrible feeling of inferiority filled Phoel as he observed how well-fed these animals were; they were big and healthy. The man got a little startled as Myne very loudly and unexpectedly raised the railing and back gate, shutting Phoel inside with the animals. Darkness surrounded him and the pigs since there weren't really sources of light, only a handful of thin holes close to the ceiling where the man could see fragments of grey outside world. Not long after Myne had closed him in, the strange carriage started to move, catching Phoel off guard and he almost fell down, somehow managing to keep his balance by leaning against a wall. Though, he soon surmised that it would be safer to just sit down, so he did. Like a lost child, his back against the cold and ruthless metal and his arms wrapped around his frail legs, he simply waited. There was nothing else he could do; his fate was in the hands of Anlith. The king's man had planted the seeds of terror in his mind and during this ride, those seeds would become blooming flowers of horror.

The metal creaked around him as if in pain, the clatter of the hooves was like a rumbling of thunder that carried him into the terrifying unknown and in the middle of this, the pigs remained calm and were just sniffing around, having no worries at all in their simple lives. Oh, how Phoel envied them at that moment. There was nothing but fear in his heart. Anlith was a sadistic mastermind; leaving Phoel in a total state of ignorance was the worst thing he could do to ensure a maximum terror within him. The pig farmer could only guess what was going to happen to him, his fragile mind frantically trying to make sense of his senseless situation. Often imagination could serve as an effective tool when it came to inducing dread. And in Phoel's case, this was exactly what was happening. The whole time he was sealed away in the container with the animals, his mind was acting against him, coming up with horrific scenarios, even when he tried to command himself to stop imagining these things. And having all this time for letting the thoughts run rampant in his head… Phoel felt like he was about to go insane.

Every now and then the carriage would stop and more pigs got loaded inside before heading to the next farm. Phoel was all alone with them, he felt completely uprooted even though taking care of this specific species of animals was something he had been doing for as long as he could remember. He had raised pigs for the king, those animals had been transported to wherever they were kept until the king would hunt them for sport and entertainment. And yet, here he was now, among the pigs, for a reason he didn't know and all the possibilities he could think of led to horror. Only Anlith knew what was going to happen.

Phoel spent so much time shut in a metal cage with his vicious thoughts that his mind was shredded like paper. But time was still moving forward even if it felt like it didn't, and at some point, the carriage came to the final stop. Phoel wondered where they were now after minutes passed and nothing seemed to happen for a while. Through the holes he could hear people talking – most likely Anlith and Myne and the third one whose name Phoel didn't know – but he couldn't really distinguish any words, no matter how hard he tried. Then, the gate was opened again and Phoel was greeted by Myne's scarred face once more, still looking as displeased as ever.

“Get out”, Myne bluntly commanded him as he put down the rails.

He didn't have to tell that twice for Phoel. The pig farmer was still as anxious as before, but he was glad he could leave the uncomfortable structure finally. As soon as he managed to get out of there and breathe in fresh air again, he started to look around his surroundings.

He actually recognized the place; he had been here once before. They were in the courtyard of king Liantraima's castle. Phoel and his whole family had travelled all the way from their farm to this place to witness the public execution of a wanted criminal, Hauim. Most of the folks of the kingdom had made the journey to watch the man getting hanged, not because they wanted to see the criminal dead but because it was seen as an offense if they didn't come. As a first thing after getting to the ground, Phoel's gaze wandered to the gallows where he had seen the final moments of a man that had been labeled as the enemy of the whole kingdom – but that wasn't the truth, it was just Liantraima's lies, everyone knew that. But of course, no one would say anything, no one would defend Hauim. Phoel could still feel the somberness in the air as he watched how the wind played with the empty noose. However, not even in his last moments, Hauim hadn't shown fear or remorse, he didn't submit to the mad king. Phoel and the rest had seen him die with a grin on his face. King Liantraima was never able to take away his dignity. In the hearts of many people, Hauim had died as a hero and had proven that they didn't have to bow to a wicked man. A noble idea, although that was all it was: an idea. People were too terrified to rise up against Liantraima.

Phoel let his gaze wander around his surroundings. The king's castle was like a huge black dragon, lying on the ground, petrified and doomed to stay still until something would tear it apart. Wherever Phoel looked, there was a hideous gargoyle staring back at him. The castle looked so repulsive and unpleasant, especially right at that moment as the sundown had painted the sky crimson, so the king's home looked like a monster that was about to awaken and begin to hunt people purely out of bloodlust. There were a couple of smaller buildings around the courtyard, one was being the stable for the horses and the other one's purpose Phoel wasn't sure about. Maybe it was the holding place for the pigs?

“Get out of the way”, Myne rasped out, his sudden voice causing Phoel to wince. Apologetically the pig farmer moved a little bit farther from the carriage.

He looked around the courtyard some more and his gaze was captivated by the rose bushes that decorated the area. The roses were so incredibly white, they were really standing out from the dark foliage. They were almost glowing. A handful of barren trees were standing here and there, their trunks black like night and there were a few white spots Phoel could distinguish from barks. Looking from this far away he couldn't be sure, but he got a nasty feeling that those trees had eyes. Phoel got shivers as he tried to imagine what kind of horrors the trees had witnessed.

The pig farmer almost jumped into the air when suddenly he felt someone's hand on his bony shoulder. The grip was firm, it could have as well been claws taking a hold of him.

“Now, Phoel, let me show you your… hmm, guest room where you can stay”, Anlith murmured to his ear.

Phoel was positive that this "guest room" wouldn't be exactly a nice place to stay, but as usual, he didn't have a choice. As Anlith lifted his hand from Phoel's shoulder, he began to walk towards the entrance of the castle. The pig farmer went after him, but to his surprise, they didn't use the main entrance. Instead, Anlith decided to use a small side door that had been almost hidden by the rose bushes. He opened the wooden door and gestured to Phoel to head inside. The frightened man did as the king's man wanted, finding himself from a narrow corridor. He looked around, but there was nothing but walls around him and a few candles that had been lit so people could see around. It became immediately darker when Anlith closed the door behind him, then he turned left and started to guide Phoel again. The pig farmer felt really uncomfortable; it was like he was trapped inside a stone. And this sensation just kept growing as he followed Anlith.

A couple of servants bypassed the two men as they walked through the castle. Phoel couldn't help but notice how contemptuously they glared at him, like he was a filthy parasite of some sort. And truthfully, he couldn't argue against that. He was the lowest of the low. And perhaps these servants, as residents of this castle, were carrying dark hearts in their chests, the wicked structure itself had dyed them black. A starved pig farmer would get no pity from them. Phoel had an ill feeling in his stomach for he knew that he didn't belong here, but for some reason, Anlith wanted to bring him to the castle. He still was as clueless as ever, but even at this point, Phoel couldn't muster courage to ask Anlith what he had in mind.

The king's man had guided him through a few corridors and twists and turns, but at some point Anlith directed Phoel to a set of stairs that led downwards. Somehow this made Phoel even more distressed, as if he was walking into the belly of a beast where he wouldn't get out of. And still he followed the king's man, down to the abyss. The pig farmer noted that the air was getting colder the deeper they went. Soon after he made this observation and was thinking of the cause behind the phenomenon, they suddenly came to the end of stairs, finding themselves from a round room. There was just a grand iron door that led further in and a small table accompanied by a couple of chairs. At that moment, one of those chairs was in use as a woman was sitting on it, playing around with a knife.

“Good evening, Ronna”, Anlith said with a smile. “Could you please show Phoel here a place to stay? He's our visitor for the night.”

The woman's face had been hiding behind a black hood, but Phoel was able to get a glance at her when she looked at him. Much to Phoel's surprise, Ronna was a very young woman and quite attractive, too, making him wonder what she was doing in a place like this. But although she was beautiful, she had a horrible, deranged smile, much like Anlith.

The king's man patted Phoel's shoulder a couple of times. “Well, Ronna is going to take care of you now. I'll be making preparations and then I'll come back and get you, alright?”

Preparations? Preparations for what? As usual, Phoel wasn't able to utter a single word. He gave a quick glimpse at Anlith's receding figure, but soon he focused on the woman he had been left alone with. Ronna had stood up from her seat and made her way to the iron door. Phoel could hear a clinking of keys as the woman unlocked the door; it was heavy and made an ear-piercing sound as it was opened. Ronna looked at him and tilted her head a little.

“Come”, she said to him, her voice as sweet as her appearance, but that unsettling grin of hers made him terrified.

Nonetheless, the pig farmer was as obedient as ever. He walked towards her and once he was close, Ronna headed inside the area that lied beyond the iron door. As Phoel walked past the door frame, he realized that they were in a prison. Rows of cells on both sides, all them guarded by metal doors. The area was very dimly lit, only a few torches on the walls tried to banish the darkness away. But they were weak and their feeble flames were smothered by the great blackness which the castle was emitting. Ronna continued to walk forward until almost the end of the hallway and she pulled open one of the doors.

“Here, a place just for you”, Ronna informed Phoel in a mocking tone.

With uncertain steps he walked inside and as soon as he did, the door was slammed shut behind him, locking him in. Phoel glanced back and met Ronna's disturbing gaze looking at him through the narrow rectangle-shaped hole that was on the door. She looked excited for some reason and the pig farmer probably couldn't understand what was going on in her twisted mind.

“I bet Anlith has something wonderful in mind for you”, Ronna teased the man. “I like him. I think you'll learn to like him too.”

This was just utter nonsense in Phoel's ears, he simply couldn't fathom what she meant. But the way she spoke these words was definitely sinister. Without saying anything else or waiting for a response from Phoel, Ronna walked away whistling and it echoed eerily in the prison area until the great iron door was closed. However, silence didn't descend in this forsaken place. Somebody was howling in a very animalistic way in their cell. Somebody was sobbing as if they had lost all hope. And somebody was speaking words Phoel couldn't understand, keeping his voice very low. It felt threatening somehow. The pig farmer still couldn't get rid of his anxiety; he didn't belong here. This place was for criminals and madmen, he was neither.

Phoel looked around his cell, soon coming to the conclusion that there wasn't much to observe. A stack of dry hay was on the floor. A rusty bucket had been left in the corner. A set of shackles were attached to the stone wall. Phoel walked to the haystack and sat down on it. It wasn't comfortable, but still better than sitting on a cold and hard floor. He wrapped his arms around his legs, taking the same position as when he was being transported to the castle with the pigs. He was all alone and didn't know what was going to happen to him. He had no idea how long he would be stuck in this cell. Not knowing anything was torturous to Phoel. But he could only wait. While listening to the various sounds from the neighboring cells, Phoel was just sitting, waiting for the time to pass. At some point, however, the exhaustion started to take its toll, and even though he was feeling frightened and was afraid of falling asleep, he had to accept that he was too tired. He curled up on top of the hay and closed his eyes, the mad noises lulling him to sleep like a lullaby of a deranged mother. And in his dreams, the unsettling smile of Anlith wouldn't leave him be.

He was suddenly awakened from his slumber when he heard the metal creak. Although he was still in a sleepy state, he instinctively got up and stared at the door to see who had come for him.

As expected, it was Anlith and Ronna. The woman stayed behind with an expression that made it look like she was very much amused by something. Anlith stepped forward with a gentle smile on his face, but nothing could have terrified Phoel more.

“My apologies for disturbing your sleep”, Anlith said in a courteous way. “I hope Ronna took good care of you.” The king's man looked up and down as if examining Phoel for some reason. “Now, I ask for your assistance with something. Follow me, please.”

Anlith stepped out of the cell and with shaky steps, Phoel went after him. It was like he was being torn apart: at least now he would finally find out what Anlith had been planning, but did he really want to know? Phoel hesitated a little, getting a bit behind, but then felt something sharp being held against his back. He figured it was Ronna's knife. The message was very clear and he hastened his pace to follow after Anlith. They all walked out of the prison area, Ronna closing the great iron door behind them, leaving all the wretched prisoners abandoned within the black rock once more. Ronna took her usual place by the table, playing with her knife, while Anlith and Phoel began to ascend the stairs.

The king's man was offering his guidance through the black castle yet again and Phoel couldn't do anything else but to go along. He was glad to leave the prison behind, but he was certain that they weren't heading to a better place. Nonetheless, he was trapped. There was no way he could make it out of the castle if he tried to run away from Anlith. The king's man had to bark a single command and one of the guards would pierce him with a spear and spill his guts out. Even the thought of dying in a gruesome way gave Phoel shivers and an unpleasant feeling that something was crawling under his skin. Maybe following and agreeing to assist him with whatever he was planning was a better option.

Phoel could have never guessed what sort of cruelty Anlith had in mind.

Once Anlith had led the pig farmer through the many corridors of the castle to the point that Phoel had completely lost his sense of direction, he finally took him to the hallway where a single door was waiting at the end. Phoel had an absolutely bad feeling about where the door in question was leading to, as if it was radiating with some mad energy. It was a dark wooden door that had seen better days and was covered in unexplainable scratch marks and cuts. As the two men were getting closer, the air itself started to feel heavy and Phoel felt an odd pressure surrounding him. Anlith took a rusty key from his pocket and opened up the door. The hinges made such a piercing sound that Phoel felt like something had just cut his brain.

“After you”, Anlith said in a polite way, but as usual, it was just carefully crafted mockery.

Nevertheless, Phoel stepped inside. So did Anlith and he locked the door behind them. The key's clicking in the lock was the sound that marked the end for Phoel's humanity.

The more Phoel looked around, the more distressed he became. It wasn't a spacious room, but it was filled with terror. There were candles scattered around, giving some sort of illumination as there were no windows. Two long tables lined the left and right side of the room. Various instruments were lying on them, clearly created for inflicting torment, even though Phoel couldn't tell what most of them were even used for. There was a huge stain of dried-up blood on the floor, telling a grim story of what had happened here. At the center of the room lied a different kind of table, there were a handful of bindings on it, meant to restrain someone. It did occur to Phoel very soon that this someone was him.

“Cozy, isn't it?” Anlith purred right by his side. “This room had a different kind of purpose before, but I just modified it into a little workshop of sorts.”

“Wh-what do you need me for?” It was a question Phoel was afraid to ask, but at the same time, he hoped that the king's man would give him an answer that was different from what he was dreading.

“Oh, it's just a little experimental operation”, Anlith responded with a cheerful tone. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Rest on the middle table.”

Phoel stayed still, completely captured by fear. He wanted out, but the only exit was locked. Such great lengths were his distress that he contemplated fighting against the king's man and taking the key by force. Odds weren't in his favor, though, as he was much more frail than Anlith. He needed a weapon and luckily there was a whole collection of sharp tools. Phoel scanned the two side tables, looking for something he could use. But he was interrupted by Anlith who had grasped his shoulder without warning and started to drag him towards the center of the room of horrors by his arm. Phoel tried to struggle, but he was too weak, the king's man overpowered him easily.

“Now, don't be so bothersome”, Anlith scolded him as he pulled him to the table. “This is going to happen, Phoel. With or without your consent.”

Phoel's natural instinct for being submissive kicked in again and he gave up his struggle. The king's man was right, it didn't matter whether he consented or not, he was all alone in a castle full of blackhearted people. Phoel's movements were stiff as he climbed on the table and lied down on it. Anlith proceeded to tie him up with the bindings, restraining him from his neck and torso and from two different parts of all of limbs. The king's man made sure they were all as tight as possible, not leaving Phoel any room for movement.

Anlith was whistling as he moved around the small room and not being in any hurry just induced even more terror within Phoel. The pig farmer couldn't tell what the king's man was doing as the binding on his neck kept his head in place. But at this point Phoel was familiar with Anlith's tactics; not telling anything about his schemes and prolonging the phase of fearful ignorance was where his excellence lies. It was still effective, it was very much effective.

“So, Phoel, how do you think we should begin?” Anlith asked after a while, but his back was turned to Phoel. When he turned around to face him, Phoel made a horrid note that the king's man was now holding a saw and smiled in a very unnerving way. “What's that look? Oh, right, I haven't told you about the operation.”

Anlith ran his index finger on the surface of the metal as Phoel lied on the table helplessly, completely at the mercy of this madman. “You gave me an idea, back at that barn of yours. Since you didn't have pigs for me, I figured that you could do your contribution in another way.” Anlith stopped caressing the metal and grinned at Phoel. “By becoming a pig yourself.”

“W-what?!” Phoel squealed weakly, the terror in his throat suffocating him so his voice was barely audible.

It was still noticeable enough for the king's man who seemed to get some sick pleasure from his fear. Anlith's grin grew even wider. “Of course, we have to do a few modifications on your body.” He started to pace around the table, running his hand across various parts of Phoel's body. “Your limbs are too long; we have to shorten them. And your ears need to be stretched somehow, I know we'll find a way. I also think that your tongue needs to be cut off. Pigs don't talk, after all.”

Phoel prayed that he was just having the worst nightmare of his life, that all of this was just a dream. He pleaded to be woken up; this was just too much. If he had known what Anlith planned, he would have never stepped inside this cursed castle.

His silent prayers went unheard and the sudden pain inflicted by cold ruthless metal filled Phoel's head, causing him to scream so loud he hadn't let out so much noise ever before in his life. Anlith hadn't given him any warning as he had started to saw off one of his arms, the sharp blade of the tool moving back and forth, infiltrating deeper and deeper into Phoel's flesh. He was helpless, still trying to struggle against his bonds, but they were too strong. It was just pure torment for Phoel, especially when Anlith was cutting through his bone as it required more force. The pain was excruciating and after a moment that had lasted way too long, Anlith had been able to saw off half of Phoel's arm. But of course, this had to be repeated three more times.

“You're doing great, my friend”, Anlith said mockingly while he was bandaging Phoel's crudely amputated arm. “But let me tell you something that might help you get through this: you are guaranteed to be well fed.”

Of course this information was useless painkiller. The horrible agony Phoel had to go through again and again as Anlith saw off all of his limbs was unimaginable, even Phoel couldn't believe it was possible. His screams and cries of pain were contained within Anlith's little torture chamber, no one could hear him. Even if they did, they wouldn't care at all, because Phoel's pathetic life didn't matter. He was bleeding on the table where some drops fell on the filthy floor, mixing in with the old blood that still stained it, both of them talking about the horror story that took place in the same room. Phoel's suffering reached a peak that made him faint on the table. While he was unconscious, Anlith was able to finish his torturous operation, all limbs amputated and wrapped in bandages. After that he had switched his tool from saw to scissors and cut off Phoel's tongue.

Anlith was almost done, he only had to place his experimental devices on Phoel's ears that would stretch them. They were strange little mechanical gadgets that would stay in place by piercing the auricle. Weights were attached to the bottom that would supposedly stretch the ears over time. Once Anlith was done with putting them in place, he stopped to admire his own work.

He was very much pleased with himself; he had just proven that it would be possible to make more pigs for the hunting ground. This one just had to gain some weight, but that shouldn't be a problem. After this successful operation, he was eager to make more, to try different techniques, break the mold. He could create a whole new kind of pig for king Liantraima, he would probably be very satisfied with his work. Anlith grinned widely like a madman, caressing Phoel's cheek tenderly.

“Oh, Phoel, how can I ever repay you?” he whispered to the unconscious man.

Then he left the room, leaving the door unlocked while Phoel was still lying on the table. He just had to inform some men to come and transfer him to the building where the pigs were kept. It would become Phoel's new home.

When Anlith saw Phoel the next time, the pig farmer had completely succumbed to his assigned role. It was nighttime when the king's man had decided to pay a visit to the royal barn where the pigs were kept until they would be transferred to the hunting ground and that was planned to happen tomorrow. Anlith had traversed through the darkness alone, like a devil who has nothing to fear, and entered the building just to check and see how the animals were doing before their big day. The smell of filth pestered his nose as he got inside, it was unpleasant but he could tolerate it for a minute. The barn was dimly lit with lanterns that held glowing sprites inside of them, kept captive against their will and they would have to remain imprisoned until the end of their miserable lives. The building consisted of many pens, each of them holding a handful of pigs. At this late hour, most of them were asleep, but there were a couple of individuals that were still snuffling around. Anlith glanced left and right, making a quick check up of every animal. They had grown big, just the way king Liantraima liked. If they were good enough for the king, then they were for Anlith as well.

Eventually Anlith had walked past the pens that held regular pigs. Then he reached the ones where his latest additions resided. That was when he stopped on his tracks and watched his creations.

Phoel had gained a group of new friends, it made Anlith happy. Their behavior was no different from the regular pigs, most of them were laying on their bed of straws, but a few were rummaging around their pens. They were doing surprisingly well moving around with their stumps, living like animals. They had grown quite well, too, Anlith could barely recognize Phoel as his formerly frail figure had increased in size so much. He was a fat ugly pig now, forgotten who he used to be. The feed Anlith had specifically invented for his pigs had done an excellent job at growing these sad creatures. Their animal brain desired nothing else but eating and breeding, but they had also become a little aggressive lately. But that was a good thing, Anlith was sure the king would find it delightful.

For a while the king's man remained standing there, looking at the wretched beings he had stripped from their humanity. He was proud of himself, even though his creations were the most hideous abominations he had ever seen. And tomorrow he would find out if they played their role well on the royal hunting ground. Anlith hadn't felt this excited in years regarding the hunt. He grinned to himself and started to walk out of the building. Let the pigs rest, they would have an important day ahead of them.

The morning came with a blood red sun that began its sacred duty as the provider of light and life. Perhaps it was a sign of the upcoming spilling of blood when the hunt would begin. Various servants were already doing their work with the preparations when the sun was just rising up to the cloudless sky. The pigs were fed before they would be moved. The same metal structure where Phoel had first arrived at the castle was set up again to transport the animals to the hunting ground. Eight horses were ready to pull the container once more, they obediently stayed still while servants were guiding the pigs inside. Anlith was supervising this task from the side, to make sure everything would go smoothly. One by one the pigs were loaded inside and they behaved well, much to Anlith's satisfaction. Even Phoel and his friends acted nicely even though they had shown aggressive behavior lately. Maybe they just were feeling content because they had just eaten. Nonetheless, they were soon ready to head out and the odd carriage began to move, rumbling like thunder once they got on the roads, their destination set at the royal hunting ground.

The travel lasted a couple of hours and during those hours the sun had managed to rise higher into the sky. It was still dressed in the color of blood, dyeing the heavens with this hue. It just made everything around the royal hunting ground more ominous, since the road there was guarded by trees with black trunks and no leaves – it was a cursed area. King Liantraima had taken an unnatural liking to this place, it was previously a part of another kingdom but Liantraima, being the warmonger he was, robbed these lands from them and turned it into his hunting ground so he could satisfy his sick need to hunt down and kill living beings. But these parts were haunted and even these days screams of the dead could be heard from the woods, never to be freed from their agony.

Eventually the carriage arrived at its destination. The horses stopped on a plain yard, their hooves causing puffs of dust to linger above ground which was made of reddish sand. A small black building was standing in this plot of land, it was like a miniature version of king Liantraima's castle. It was his little place to stay and relax before and after hunting. A smaller but much more grandeur chariot was standing near the black building, indicating that the king had already arrived and was waiting inside. Anlith, who had been sitting on his usual spot at the front of the carriage, hopped on the dry ground and began his job as the supervisor while servants prepared to transfer the pigs to their final stay. A huge area had been confined with a sturdy fence made from black metal, making sharp shapes and had barbed wire tied around it as well. Not even the most vicious beast would get through or over it. There was a little shelter made from wood meant for the pigs and that was also one of the access points to the hunting ground. The servants created a temporary path with portable pieces of fences and let the pigs walk from the container to the shelter through this narrow walkway. Anlith was pleased as everything was going according to plan and soon all the pigs had got transferred where they were supposed to be. The servants had shut the animals in their last enclosure and thus, everything was ready for the king to begin his hunt.

The pigs seemed to enjoy their new little dwelling, snuffing around and exploring the fenced area. It was a vast space, the plain was only one part of it, but it stretched even to the woods. King Liantraima let the pigs scatter around a bit before beginning; he was standing on a balcony together with Anlith. From there they were able to view the hunting ground and much to Anlith's delight, the king appeared to be pleased with what he was seeing. There was a mad gleam in his dark but aged eyes and his thin figure was practically shivering from excitement. He was a withering old man already, but his desire to hurt other beings kept him up. There was a surprising amount of malice hidden underneath the husk of an elderly man. He was ghostly pale and had a long white beard, making him look like a corpse that had risen from his grave and come back to haunt the living. The golden crown in his head was his symbol of power, but he had been so paranoid about somebody stealing it from him that he had gone through a procedure, performed by dark magic, that the gold had dug inside his head and grew roots so it would be impossible to snatch it from him. Perhaps it also made him more mad and wicked.

“I can feel it, Anlith!” Liantraima was wheezing from excitement. “The wind! The wind is telling me that today is a fine day to hunt! And the pigs, oh the pigs, they're excellent this time!”

“I'm pleased to hear that, sir”, Anlith responded and gave the king a slight respectful bow.

“It's time! It's time!” the king rasped out and headed back inside the building, leaving Anlith alone on the balcony. The king's man had decided to stay there and watch the hunt from that spot.

A moment passed by as Anlith stood in his place, but eventually he saw a handful of guards entering the hunting ground and spreading out, all of them carrying muskets. Soon after them, the king himself made his appearance and he had a musket in his hands as well, even though it looked way too powerful and big for a frail man like him to handle. All the men on the hunting ground were armed, but even so, they were all about to get slaughtered and Anlith had front seat tickets for this gory play.

Anlith's creations had almost immediately decided that the guards were a threat that had to be eliminated. They charged at the men, surprisingly fast with their stumps, and even though the guards tried to shoot them, they were unable to bring the pigs down. One by one the men got mauled by the Anlith's special pigs, but the other animals joined in and started to eat the guards when they were still alive. It was a horrific scene, screams filling the air, blood staining the ground. King Liantraima didn't waste time when he noted that his guards were unable to defend themselves against these monstrosities and tried to waddle away, back into the building, but to his dismay, he would share the same fate.

The king didn't even manage to use his musket when a couple of pigs knocked him down, a few more joining them as they started to tear him apart. His screams were horrible to hear, shocking all the servants in the area. And Anlith just watched, witnessed the last moments of the mad king that had just wanted entertainment by hunting animals. Liantraima's limbs were torn, his guts spilled, various organs scattered around and the more pigs gormandized with his blood, the more drunk they became from it, wanting more and more. The pigs ate the king and his last screams would join in with the ones these woods held.

“We should have removed their teeth”, Anlith muttered to himself as he continued to watch the horrendous play.

All these men, regarding themselves as important individuals and yet, now they were nothing more than pig food. Life worked in a strange way sometimes.

“Ah well, maybe next time.” Anlith grinned like a devil and leaned against the stone railing and observed how the pigs ate every piece of meat they could find. Once there was none, they let out a dreadful squeak in unison and began to dash toward the woods. Perhaps they were still bloodthirsty. Perhaps they would become the inhabitants of these cursed parts now. Anlith was curious to see what kind of beasts they could evolve into. After all, they were his beautiful, horrible abominations.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Songs Into Stories: All Pigs Are The Same", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "11" }