The night wore on.

Clotho knew her victory over the human hero should have afforded her more satisfaction than this. She had just beaten and corrupted the only being capable of keeping Virens from her, hadn't she? Yet, she felt empty. As she sat in the highest chamber of the King of the Forest, watching the cocoon that comprised her heart pulse lethargically with a warm orange glow, she did not at all feel satisfied.

Her head was propped up by her left hand, while the right rested on the hilt of her rapier, whose tip currently lay embedded in the paper floor. The weapon's material, an organic alloy of chitin and carbon, tough as the finest steel, gleamed in the pulsating light. Wasn't this all she'd ever wanted? To be in control, to have the power, to be able to control and take the lives of others?

Looking for answers, she dispatched an order to her waiting servant, a runty Myrmidon that -for lack of ability to fight- carried out her more mundane wishes. She didn't watch it as it scuttled off, only continuing to massage her forehead. This action helped the ache there very little; the chitinous shell there prevented any sort of pressure from reaching her brain. Giving up, she pushed herself to her feet and strode across the floor to a wall. With one talon she ripped a hole in it, revealing the night sky and letting in a cool breeze. As she thought, she stared at the stars.

A scuffle from behind her indicated that her requested guest had arrived. Two Myrmidon guards escorted in the former heroine. Even if her tail and pincers hadn't been bound, the Scorrow would still find walking a chore. The idea of coming to grips with her monstrous lower half was appalling to whatever pride she had left, but ignoring it clearly wasn't working either. The Scorrow was therefore in a sorry state when she was presented before the Swarm Keeper. She was the image of a broken bird: her blonde hair hung in ragged clumps, her skin was sickly and pale, and even her barbed, venomous tail drooped in melancholy.

“Leave us.”

Without a sound, the sentries left. Clotho and her enemy were left alone in her sanctum. Slowly, the Swarm Keeper turned around. She beheld the helpless hatred and depression etched on her captive's face. When Clotho had first inflicted this upon her, it had felt so good. A proud, powerful foe had been brought low, changed into the very thing she had set out to destroy. However, Clotho was beginning to see fault in her own reasoning. By poising the heroine and transfiguring her body, she had brought her down to 'her level'. Did she then subconsciously think of herself as a monster, as something low and vile? It wasn't a thought that had occurred to her before. Until recently, she had been the rebel, fighting back against the oppressors and heaping justice upon them. In the eyes of the Scorrow, however, she saw herself pictured as a despot, a conquerer, a beast. Something to be hated and feared. All Nona had ever craved was love and acceptance; when offered the chance, she had seized power and control as well. Her dominion and creatures had given her that, but it wasn't earned.

It wasn't real.

[b]Of course it is. You've worked for everything you have. Earning yourself a living is all you've ever done. They deserve this.[/b]

“Why am I here?”

Clotho was torn between the two voices. The one in her head, soothing and comforting, and that of the Scorrow who had just spoken, questioning the meaning of her continued existence. No doubt she expected to be tortured, perhaps further twisted. It was an idea, certainly. But first...

“I...brought you here,” Clotho began, choosing each word carefully. The presence in her head was muddling her thoughts somehow. “To ask you a question. Why did you attack me?”

The Scorrow decided that she might as well give her captor the answer she was looking for. “Because you're evil. All the pain you've caused, and all the suffering you can yet inflict. The city is starving. Flies are everywhere, disease is rampant. You're poisoning us from the inside out. You're a monster, and we have to get rid of monsters for the good of everyone.”

Clotho flinched. “No! You're wrong! I'm an opposing force. We are armies, nations at war! Warring factions always starve each other out, always cripple defenses, always engage the foe and kill! I haven't done anything a human wouldn't do. I might look like a monster, but I'm no different than you!”

Sensing an opportunity, the Scorrow decided to wait a little longer before begging for death. “No, you are wrong. There is all the difference. You play with your enemies, you extract their pain and feed on it until they're gone. That's why you haven't killed me. You want to enjoy my suffering. That's not what men do.” Her voice dwindled to a whisper. “That's what evil does.”

“...but evil never looks back at the path they've come and questions it. While we heroes believe that evil must be stopped, we must always give it a chance to turn itself around. You've done horrible things, but there's still hope. You must turn back now, or you'll always be a monster.”

-=-=-

[b]Kill her she's poisoning your mind[/b]
[i]I don't want to be evil. That wasn't my intention![/i]
[b]EVIL IS WHAT WE ARE IT IS OUR NATURE[/b]
Clotho's arm shot out, grabbing the Scorrow by the neck. The former heroine's arms feebly grasped at the Swarm Keeper's, still trying to save herself.
[i]No! I am who I choose to be![/i]
[b]YOU ARE A DUNGEON KEEPER YOU ALWAYS WILL BE YOU SNIVELING WRECK YOU	 PUNY BITCH YOU WEAK-WILLED FLEA YOU WILL OBEY ME[/b]
Her fingers squeezed tighter. The Scorrow was choking. “Please...don't...prove me right...”
[i]I will not submit to a voice in my head![/i]

The Dungeon Heart left Clotho. She was suddenly standing in a white void. She was human again, a young woman, naked and alone. In front of her was a huge being, shades of green and yellow and black, four crab legs, five mandibles, and two clawed arms. Its gargantuan maw opened to scream.

[b]I AM TIRED OF YOUR PATHETIC LIFE I AM AVAK IASCOR AND YOU WILL SUBMIT YOUR BODY AND SOUL TO ME IT IS WHY I CREATED YOU[/b]