Gwen lay curled up in her dark room, trying her best not to think. It hurt too much. Whenever a thought entered her mind, she punched herself until it disappeared. It was less painful that way. The physical pain was fleeting, the mental one lingered. Perhaps she would have calmed down if the front door hadn't slammed open. Unsteady steps echoed as someone crossed the room. A shadowy figure slumped past her small alcove, then returned a moment later, looking down at her.

"Gwen? I thought you were off doing important things now that you're a big shot cultivator," the slurred voice of her mother said. She'd been drinking again. Gwen had prevented her from drinking for the last year by threatening anyone who would dare give her alcohol. It had worked until now. She had been getting better. With most cultivators attacking Deepmere, she must have raided the supplies.

Gwen didn't answer. It was best she ignored her mother while she was like this.

"Too important to talk to your mother now? Big, important, Gwen." Her mother took a swig from a bottle she held.

A blaze of fury erupted in Gwen. She did nothing to suppress it. It did keep her thoughts away.

"You agreed to stop drinking!" Gwen snarled, getting to her feet. She moved in an instant, smacking the bottle from her mother's hand. The bottle flew away, smashing against a wall where it shattered into pieces. The potent smell of alcohol filled their small home. Whatever it was, it must have been very strong.

"BITCH!" Gwen's mother punched her in the face. From the dazed expression, she had no idea what she was doing. How much had she drunk already?

"YOU AGREED TO STOP DRINKING!" Gwen repeated in a loud shout, letting the blows fall. Aggressive raindrops would have done more damage to her.

Her mother screamed in fury, her eyes wide and bloodshot as she clawed at Gwen's face. The act was so casual that Gwen didn't even consider what would happen. Badger-kin were aggressive. The most aggressive of any kin species. Such rough acts didn't affect them much. They were tough, and it was best to get it out of their system. However, none of those badger-kin were a liquid cultivator. The slap that Gwen delivered was far less than what Azura had done to her. But it was a slap against someone who hadn't bothered cultivating a single day. A spontaneous act of anger and failing to control her power was all it took. The slap connected and bones broke from the power. Gwen's mother collapsed into an unmoving pile at her daughter's feet, head twisted at a very wrong angle. Gwen stood above the corpse for a full minute, not comprehending what had happened.

"Mommy?" Gwen voice was higher pitch that normal. It was the voice of a small girl terrified of monster under a bed. It was pleading tone that wanted all the scary thing to go away.

"Mommy?" Gwen asked again as an uncontrollable shaking began to overtake her body. Gwen subconsciously ignored the death essence in the room as she knelt beside the body.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Mommy," Gwen said, stroking her mother's hair. The world became blurry as tears distorted her vision.

"I'll, I'll, I, will h-h-h-help you to b-b-bed," Gwen stammered, lifting the body. "You know you can't drink so much. It makes you angry. You, you agreed to stop. Why? Why didn't you stop?"

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The tears were falling now as Gwen set the body down onto her bed. "You, you were get, get, getting better. Why? Why? WHY DO I BREAK EVERYTHING GOOD IN MY LIFE!?" Gwen screamed as her claws dug a deep furrow in her face. The blood trickled out for a brief moment before healing over.

Gwen heard voices and shouting coming closer. They must have been alerted by her scream. Gwen kissed her mother's cooling forehead before standing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I always ruin everything. I'm a monster who only knows how to break everything important to me."

Gwen fled. She ran past the kin, not caring if she hurt them. She ran out of Azure's Rest. She ran past the city of Deepmere, not looking back. Gwen kept running. She didn't know where she was going, but anywhere was better than here. Gwen didn't stop till she was far away from everything she ever knew. She stopped under a tree and lay curled up. It would have been impossible to say how long she was there, at least two days, as the sun both rose and set multiple times before something had changed.

"MASTER! I felt your pain and we came running!" A voice called out. Gwen didn't need to look to know who it was. She could feel them. Her revenants. She nearly destroyed them on impulse, but stopped. After all, what else did she have left? Gwen looked up with bleary eyes at Vincent and Denayd. It has been Vincet calling out to her, with Denayd being more reserved. Behind them came a small army of shambling zombies.

"What's wrong? How can we help?" Vincent asked. Gwen didn't answer, only curling up further.

"I think the young Master must have had a traumatic experience and needs time to process," Denayd said. "Vincent, go get a cart. We can make her comfortable while she comes to terms with whatever has happened."

"What? Oh yeah, that's a good idea."

"You don't have to say anything," Denayd said soothingly. "We'll make you comfortable and leave here. There is nothing left of value here. Is that okay with you? I'll take you far away, sometimes distance can be an effective remedy."

Gwen hesitated a moment before nodding. After all, only the dead could be trusted, she certainly didn't trust herself anymore.

***

Denayd sighed from within his illusory library. The construct has been his most extraordinary feat while alive. He had constructed the spell using forbidden arts to create a mental construction where he could store all his knowledge and hide his thoughts inside his mind. It wasn't a mana construct but a mental one. No loss of mana could disrupt its foundations. It had been a miracle that it had survived his death. In here, his thoughts were his own, not tainted by that impulse to serve absolutely.

"This is bad," Denayd muttered as he collapsed into a cushioned sofa, a hefty tome in hand. Beyond protecting his thoughts, one of the best features of the library was that it retained everything he'd ever read. It was why he was so desperate to collect as many books as possible, and he also tended to hoard.

"The girl is unstable like a bent cog in a machine. She could fly out of control at any time. I'll have to be careful." There was so much he had to do. So much he had to learn. Denayd connected to the rest of his mind, ordering it to take them south. Lightning crashed around the library, shaking its foundations.

"Always so difficult," Denayd muttered and changed his outgoing thoughts.

I'll take the Master south. There, the dead arts are practiced more, and I can find something to help her.

The shaking receded, and Denayd sighed again. His every action and thought outside the illusory library had to be structured around helping Gwen. Truly annoying. At least there was a lot of interpretation he could use to his advantage. He had to find a way to free himself and capitalize on his unique condition. He could be the first of something new. An intelligence that persisted beyond death. An ancient archaic word sprang to mind for the new existence that he aspired to become. It was a word that meant corpse and had a nice appeal given his situation. Denayd, the first Lich. Yes, that sounded wonderful indeed.

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