"Thank you for not killing me," Matt spoke quietly.

Sires and him were sparring with bo staffs. Sires, confused, tilted his head to the side.

"Why would I kill you?"

"For the other day."

"What happened the other day?"

"The cafeteria?"

"Oh."

It was after that specific instance, where Sires unintentionally summarized his life to half The Compound, that people started to keep their distance from Sires. The bullying had even abruptly halted.

"So..."

"Yes?" Sires asked.

"How have you been?"

Sires nearly hit Matt in the head with his staff, and the other man ducked out of the way. Matt grinned. Dodging an attack from Sires was something to be proud of.

"Fine," Sires replied curtly.

The answer had been truthful, at least partially.

"Really? You look pretty banged up."

Sires cackled, side-stepping out of the way from a blow Matt almost landed. "I know; isn't it great?"

Matt looked troubled. "I don't...follow you."

"I did a lot of thinking this past week and a half. I've come to realize if I'm in the infirmary," Sires explained, suddenly unleashing a swell of attacks that caught Matt off-guard, forcing him to go on the defensive, "X leaves me alone. So today, I'm trying my hardest to get hurt."

"That's insane," Matt gasped, seconds later having to duck a blow to his head again.

Sires cackled and spoke gleefully. "Better than seeing X!"

"I guess–Sires!"

Sires hadn't let up from his attacks. As such, Matt had begun to back up. Sires was unrelenting. Matt's back hit the wall, and for the first time he actually felt afraid of the person he considered a friend.

Sires hit the staff again, and again, and again, using such force the pounding made Matt's arms go numb.

"S-Sires!"

Sires guffawed. Matt slid down onto his backside unintentionally, holding his wooden staff above his head. Still Sires' attacks were unyielding. Matt, too frightened to notice, didn't see the entire class had stopped and was watching them.

"Sires! Stop!"

Instead Sires swiftly performed an upper attack. Matt's own bo staff went flying. As Sires raised his weapon to strike downward, Matt cowered, throwing both arms over his head.

However, the blow never came.

A gentle tap from Sires' bo touched Matt's hand. He peeked out, and then put his arms down. Sires twirled the staff and then leaned on it, grinning down at Matt. Sires extended his hand. Unsure of himself, Matt reached out and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

Sires was panting, still smiling, and still holding onto Matt's hand. "I would never kill you, or hurt you. Remember that, it's a promise. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't hurt me."

Sires threw down his weapon. Class wasn't over yet, but he didn't care. It was his last physical lesson for the night. Walking towards the door, he glared at the unmoving bo instructor.

"I'm done for the day."

It wasn't until Sires had left, and the door shut behind him, did the class resume. Wordlessly, Sires made his way to the fifth floor. As his first full day back, Sires found that people didn't speak to him. Now they just scurried out of his way, or looked at him with a strange sort of reverence.

Sires knocked upon the last door of the last pristine hallway.

"Enter," said X's gruff and mildly startled voice.

Sires entered, locking the door behind himself. He walked forward, stripping off his shirt and throwing it to the side. He then stood directly in front of X at his desk, who hadn't bothered to look up from his work. So Sires cleared his throat. X looked up, and raised a confused and questioning eyebrow.

"Well, come on," Sires said. "Let's get this over with."

X frowned. Even though he clearly was displeased, he capped his pen and came around the front of his desk. Licking his lips, he ran a finger along Sires' taught torso.

Sires closed his eyes and shivered unintentionally. Yet, a small smile played on his thin lips.

It was okay. Sires had initiated things, so that meant he was in control.

Right?

~

"Sires!"

Sires shuffled along across the stage. The entire auditorium was applauding in a very polite way. X stood at the podium, beaming at him and clapping. Just like the other students before him, Sires walked up to his leader.

It happened to be Sires' twenty-first birthday. Not like anyone cared. Birthday's weren't celebrated at The Compound; unless, of course, it was X's. With time Sires had come to certain revelations regarding how things ran at The Compound. Though they were made to feel like one, big, happy family, the fact that their lives were never celebrated spoke volumes. So did the ever-revolving door of new attendees.

X handed him a pen, and Sires situated himself behind the podium. Awaiting him was a scroll. On some level, Sires wondered where X had even obtained parchment like that; it looked authentically old.

Where this sheet had been procured didn't matter though. With the corners of his mouth plunging into a frown, he read over the scroll he was expected to sign like all other graduating pupils were.

I, Sires (birthright Einar), First Class, Top Tier, are hereby released but equally bound to/from The Compound. I sign with my faith and body that I agree to uphold and be bound here unto by all terms and provisions of this position, a position to only be relinquished upon termination of life as known by the physical attributes of the human body.

Sires blinked, honestly taken back.

This contract shall be binding unto the parties hereto and upon their successors and assigns, and shall inure to the benefit of said parties, including but not limited to the signee, in accordance with the dogma of The Compound.

It is known henceforth that failure to fulfill this contract shall be met with immediate and unequivocal consequences, hereby but not limited to death and torture.

Sires slowly raised his eyes to peer at X. Everyone else had just signed without barely a glance. Sires whispered through pursed lips, away from the microphone.

"You're joking, right?"

X put his hand over the mic and leaned in, raising his eyebrows. "Does it look like I'm joking, Sires?"

"I barely understand what any of this means—"

"It doesn't matter, you understand the gist of it—"

"I'm not just going to sign my life away—"

X's eyes flashed. "What else would you do with yourself?"

Sires dropped his eyes, looking at the waxen stamp of the symbol that stood prominent over the painting above the stage.

"This isn't a game," X hissed.

Sires lifted his eyes.

X narrowed his eyes. "Just sign the bloody thing."

X released the mic. So, doing what everyone else had done, Sires signed the bottom of the document. He then picked up the thin, blood-soaked knife to his right, slit open his palm, and smeared it all along his signature.

Everyone began to cheer, Sires' graduation serving as the conclusion of the ceremony. As X rolled up the document, tying it closed with a red ribbon, the voice in Sires' head cackled.

~

After the ceremony, X had insisted that Sires join him to speak in private. Sires had assumed they would be heading to the fifth floor. Instead they stayed behind in the auditorium, sitting on the edge of the stage, feet dangling off. They didn't speak.

Once everyone had gone, X got to his feet and pulled up Sires by the arm. Giving a rather cheeky look over his shoulder, X led Sires directly to the back of the stage. The back wall was covered with the same thick material that the curtains were made from. The leader grabbed two fistfuls of velvet in his hands and snapped them open, revealing the back wall which held a plain door with a lock pad. X then muttered something under his breath, passing his hand over the hunk of metal hanging from the nob. Finally, he pulled out a skeleton key and opened the door.

There was a staircase leading down into darkness. Swallowing quietly, Sires followed X even further beneath The Compound. As the pair descended into the unwelcoming blackness, lights turned on by seemingly magic. Sires nearly laughed out loud at the thought; of course this stairwell had to have motion sensors.

Right?

At the bottom of the very steep, narrow staircase was a rather old looking wooden door. It brought to Sires' mind monasteries from times long ago, images of death and plagues. X removed yet another key and unlocked the only door at the dead end.

Sires was shocked to find this area was X's personal living quarters. It appeared to be just a few rooms: a study, a dining room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Everything was ornate; old wooden lions carved into table legs, brass reading lights with antique cream shades painted with flowers that reminded Sires of cathedral windows, floors of red and walls of wood and mirrors. The first room, the study, was where Sires found himself now, with X standing before him, an ornate glass tumbler filled with amber liquid.

Sires raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

X rose the glass, gesturing for Sires to take it. Sires stood still.

X laughed. "I know; alcohol was never allowed. You've graduated now. You can do as you please with your free time."

Truly not understanding the situation, Sires gingerly set his sword on a leather, high-back, button-tuft chair, and began to unbutton his dress shirt.

"What are you doing?"

Sires paused only briefly, then continued undressing with a shrug. "This is the last time I will see you; we don't need alcohol for that."

X set his own drink down on a small gold and glass cart. He then strode across the room, gently placing his hand on Sires'. Sires stopped the unbuttoning; he had come to loathe the touch of others, often reacting violently. X's hands always made him freeze.

"You misunderstand me," X said evenly, staring Sires directly in the eyes. Sires shuddered involuntarily. "I simply want to have a goodbye drink with you."

Sires was in shock. "You mean—"

X went back to the cart, taking up his own drink once more. "Button your shirt, Sires, we're not doing that tonight."

Sires was so gobsmacked he found himself at a loss for words. As such, he nimbly covered up his chest and then took the glass from the shorter man. X raised his glass, and, not knowing what else to do, Sires met the gesture.

"To a wonderful nine years, spent with the best student I ever had the pleasure of teaching."

X clinked his glass against Sires' own, and they drank. Sires wasn't expecting it to be so harsh, so bitter and sour all at once. The liquid burned the back of his parched mouth, and he quietly had a coughing fit. X didn't make fun, just politely waited for Sires to compose himself.

"Please," X spoke once Sires merely cleared his throat, "let's sit."

Still on edge, Sires did as he was told. For a long time they simply sat, staring at each other. Finally Sires found the courage to speak.

"How old are you?"

X laughed immediately. "Out of anything you can ask, you want to know how old I am?"

"Yes. You tell me you taught my father. How is that possible? You don't look a day over forty."

X took to swirling his drink, looking at it and not Sires. The pair lapsed into silence. Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Sires stopped counting after ten minutes. He didn't know after that how much time had passed.

"Really?" X said abruptly, making Sires jump. "There's nothing else you want to say? Nothing? Nothing at all?"

Sires didn't answer.

Getting to his feet and gulping down the rest of his drink, X looked at Sires. "In the morning you and Matthew will board a plane for the Cayman Islands. We don't usually pair neutralizes together, but you work so well with one another it would be stupid to do otherwise. Once landed, you will receive your first instructions at the hotel."

Sires got to his feet and chugged the rest of his drink. He regretted it, but at least he didn't cough. X sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

"Here, give me your glass. I'll put it in the sink. Wait here."

Sires took the opportunity to look around a bit. Before long, he was drawn to an area of the room tucked away in a corner. He was surprised to find a sort of strange shrine embedded in the wall.

Long black candles sat in pools of dried wax. The arched niche was carved from wood. An engraving of some sort of elaborate sigil comprised the back panel. It was strange, consisting of upside-down triangles and what appeared to be a cloud with a sword running through it. Sitting in between the two candles was an old and extremely tattered black leather book. Instinctively Sires reached out.

Careful, the voice in his head cackled, you are about to see what cannot be unseen.

Frowning, Sires opened the book and began flipping through its pages.

It took Sires a few moments to comprehend that he was reading something written in very old English. It took him even longer for it to dawn on him large chunks were written in Latin. There were strange drawings within the book. Various vigils seemed to have dedicated sections. These sections were filled with lists and gruesome pictures of torture and death. Many of them had a hedonistic, almost ritualistic feel to them.

As Sires' fingers traveled deeper through the book, he noticed the pictures appeared to be drawn in the medieval style. Further scrutiny made him notice these pages were filled with spells, charms, divination rituals, and how to create talismans and other imbued items of import. How Sires was able to gather that's what he was looking at left him befuddled.

"What is this?" he whispered to himself.

It had been a rhetorical question. Sires jumped when the voice in his head responded.

Lies. Lies and blasphemy.

Sires rolled his eyes. "Doesn't explain what it is."

A book of half-truths and deceit. X is evil. He worships webs of lies perpetuated by foolish humans. He is a puppeteer, spreading the filth he believes under a misguided justification for violence. He and those like him took my symbols without permission. They have imbued meaning into them that is false. A corruption of what was one beauty.

Sires continued to slowly flip through the book.

They paint me as evil, yet I am not. Stupid constructs of feeble minds. That damned book is a perversion of what is just. It's a perversion of everything I stand for.

Sires' heart skipped a beat. He then chuckled and shook his head. "'You' stand for? You're me."

But I'm not. I am your protector. Your savior.

"All you are," Sires spat quietly, "is a figment of my cracked and trauma-addled brain."

The voice cackled. Really? You prayed to me and I answered. How else would you explain knowing how to flip the table, where exactly to sit so the bullets would miss you? Who do you think gave you the strength to yank that sword out of her body when it got stuck?

"Adrenaline," Sires said, chuckling.

The voice was starting to sound angry. Why do you think that I protect you? Why do you think I whisper constantly that you need to kill those around you? This Compound, as they call it, is a plague on humanity that needs to be eradicated. I'm trying to fix the mess that's been made. This wasn't how it's supposed to be.

Sires himself was becoming impatient. "Oh, and you know how things are supposed to be?"

Yes!

Sires shook his head. "Who are you, anyway?"

I am—

"What are you doing?"

Startled, Sires slammed the book shut. X was staring at him from across the room.

"Out of anything and everything in this room, you had to touch my grimoire?"

Sires blinked. "Your what?"

X sighed. "It doesn't matter. Is there anything you want to say?"

Sires shook his head. Sitting down, X sat down with a certain aloofness and waved his hand.

"Well, goodbye then. We'll be in touch."

Gathering up his sword, Sires made his long trek up the steep stairs.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly halfway up the steps.

But the voice didn't answer. Sires wasn't sure if he had ever been more confused in his entire life.