Erisa had left, and Azazel stood on the shores for a long time, watching her ship sail away into the distance. Soon, the sails faded away over the horizon, and Azazel then stood watching the sun disappear over the horizon. The cool wind blew gently against his face, and the expression in his eyes was hard indeed to fathom. He stepped into the waters, and the waves gently lapped around his ankles. He stood there for a long time, and then turned back to the township where the rest of the Mrodics lived.
He ignored the looks of the people watching him, and strode up to Threye's home. As he reached, Threye opened the door, as if he had been waiting for Azazel.
The two looked at each other silently. Finally, Azazel said, "It is time". Threye merely nodded at him.
As Azazel turned and walked, Threye looked at his receding back, with no expression in his eyes. Finally, a gate appeared before Azazel, a dark forbidding gate. As he approached, the gate opened, and Azazel entered The Dungeon of Thron a second time.
As he entered, there was a fierce wind that was blowing. The wind was cold, icy and it blew small, thin needles into his eyes. It was difficult for Threye to stand, and it was difficult for him to see where he was. The wind was dark, and it seemed to be infused with a malevolent spirit. As the wind picked him up, and sent him swirling into the air, he seemed to hear a cackling laugh, the laugh of an old crone. The Old Witch of his youth seemed to be laughing at him, mocking him as he flew up in the air. He was almost out of control, but in the end, managed to still his mind. He closed his eyes, to avoid having the needle pins poke his eyes out, and went into the deep recesses of his mind.
The laughter continued, and Azazel continued to swirl around in the air. Suddenly he was thrown down hard on the ground, and his eyes opened with shock. The Old Witch was standing in front of him. Her hair was long and green, and her skin was smooth as alabaster. Her looks belied her age, and anyone looking at her would not have believed her to be a day more than twenty or so. Her green eyes were old in cynicism and spite, and she looked at Azazel with a mocking smile on her face as he slowly got to his feet.
"So, Azazel", she said with a sweet smile on her face. "Where would you wish to go? To Thron himself? What price would ye pay me, to let you go on from here? Or, would you best me in a duel?"
"I would not pay you anything", hissed Azazel. "You are like me. You would take the money and kill me. We are one of a kind"
"Oh no", smiled The Old One. "I have magic, and you have none."
"I have powers that you can scarcely imagine", snarled Azazel. He stood there, fire blazing in his eyes, and the fire blazed out. The Old One merely smiled, waved her arm, and the fire was suddenly raging around Azazel. The fire raged in concentric circles around Azazel, and the fiery circles grew smaller and smaller. The cackling laugh of The Old One rang out as the fire threatened to engulf Azazel. As the fire was about to touch his face,he blew, and the fire became a whorl that flew up into the sky.
Azazel then smiled, and stepped through the fire towards The Old One. As he did so, she raised her wand, and twirled it towards him. A bolt hit his head, and he was flung backwards. As he struggled to get up, it seemed as if The Old One was in his head, and her cackling laughter was bouncing around inside his head. As the laugh became louder and louder, his head throbbed, and he felt as if he would go mad. He gripped his head, and screamed loudly.
"Get out, get out you Old Witch", screamed Azazel.
"No, no, you are mine now", screeched the Witch, as her laughter and her voice seemed to travel round and round in his head. Her green eyes burned into his skull, and the fire was inside him. The green, hypnotic eyes seemed to possess his soul, and seemd to send a fire burning through every vein. His mind was no longer his, and his body started to twist and convulse with her every whispered word.
Finally, when all seemed to be lost for Azazel, the voice whispered. "Now, Azazel, before I kill you, we shall play one last game..."
"Games", thought Azazel, "are what I can play...". There was one kernel in his brain that seemed to have been untouched by The Old One, one corner where, but she had not reached.
Desparately, he spat out the words, "Yes, let's play hide and seek". He had no idea where those words came from, yet they caused a pause in the cackle and the voice.
"Hide and seek",she hissed. "Who will you hide from? I have you in my power. Your mind is mine now, a toy for me to play with. The final truth in magic, is the power to own and control the mind of the other. Your mind is now mine. You cannot hide from me."
She paused, then hissed, "Ever...." A hot burst of noxious breath seemed to pervade his every pore, and his body strained with pain.
Desparately, he kept that corner of his mind free, and said, with a whisper, "no, you do not own me. My mind is mine for me to keep. Mine for me to treasure. Let the games begin. Find me if you can. Catch me if you can"
His earlier training seemed to come to the fore, and he started to retreat into the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. The cackling laughter grew louder, and yet more muted, as a rage now seemed to fill the laughter....
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