I devised a plan to release Denenthorn. I didn't think he'd go along with it willingly, thus I had to betray the one of two that I have truely come to call friend here. The thought hurts even now.

I asked him to meet me in the usual spot, atop the hospital, to speak on a matter of importance. I had him examine me, a made up wound upon me, in a difficult place so that he would have to get close.

I did trick him and managed to stab him as a misdirection to upper cut into his nose. This attack knocked him out and on the ground. I worked quickly to finish my design on his face. It was perfect but I needed to set him free, to remember me and remind him of the strife he put me through, to help me.

I knew his eye contained power, he had as of several months ago kept it hidden behind an eye patch. I took my scissors and with a precise jab popped his eye from the socket. I kept it secret, I kept it safe. I left him on the roof knowing he we be safe from harm until he would come to.

I secreted myself back to the library, preparing myself for the backlash I thought would come within the hour.

But all was quiet.

I waiting, becoming anxious, I started to pace. I walked in circle in front of the fire, I started counting, there was always something to count in the library. Then I thought I heard a clearing of the throat. It sounded as though it were just behind me but, when I turned to greet whomever was there, I was alone.

I searched for a possible citizen, traveled upstairs an looked between shelves. I was just reaching the Hemingway collection when I heard, too close to be someone beside me, "You piece of shit, twit."

I knew this voice, it had been a long time since I'd seen Eversoris, but here he was, in my head. "What in the hell do you think you're doing." therein was a whirlwind of dark whispers. Most of these voices were in languages I did not understand but all were berating, all threatening and each of them calling foul to my betrayal against Denenthorn. Eversoris spoke again, "I'm going to make you regret what you have done.". The eye in my pocket had gone hard like a stone and I felt it vibrate. A tug, a twist and then all was darkness around me.

I was not in the library. I was not even in Toxia, but I daresay that I would have given near anything to return there again.

This was hell, I knew not by sight, but by smell. It is the smell that every demon carries, it can never come off. I did not have to see where I was being taken but I did open my eyes. There was nothing here that I had not already dreamt... Though in dreams one has the ability to wake up.

I was flown through the pits and valleys, twisting and winding downward, where orange became red, red to black and black into blue. It was in this blue void that I was strapped down and for e through countless physical torture, performed by Eversoris. Time is different here, a week away and I had spent lifetimes parted. It was filled with physical beatings, The knowledge of my body is now full in my understanding of it, I know my thresholds quite clearly and fir once I longed to have a memory of being held and protected. To only have what is written or told by experience, by another, is worthless.

I did not expect to see Eversoris give mercy, but after what must have been my seventieth lifetime, he released me. He swept me through and up and rocketed me out of hell onto the muck of the swamplands in Toxia.

I was out, the stone ceased vibrating in my pocket, my clothed were unmarred save for a bit of smoldering at my shoulders. The brimstone will fade from my wings but not a scratch was upon my body. I had not aged a moment, though the memory was bright in my mind, I had to collect myself.

I had already run out of time, the Darkstorm was already upon me. When I did realize, such folly, I was ruined where my mercy was delivered.

An act of violence

Denenthorn has asked me to perform an act of violence against him. His is willfully going to allow my hands, my skill to slice his skin and press ink within those cuts, more like punter wounds. He wishes of me a traditional Maori design ... I know what I have in mind and I have studied his body so intricately in the last three years that I will be able to map it out in perfect precision.

I have the materials on hand, stashed along with my other art supplies working he walls of the asylum on the third floor of the hospital. All the is left is for my canvas to arrive with me.

He is displeased with the place, I in turn confess my regrets to him but cannot help the feeling for the need of utter privacy. No one comes here anymore for the same reasons I never had visitors when I stayed her some 160 years ago. It is a dreadful place, filled with lonesomeness, abandonment, and the screams if boredom.

Denenthorn lays down, stripped if his clothing. His form is immaculate as always. I must admit that the humanesque form is rather disgusting in most cases. I feel the need to make changes in most, but little can be changed on his form, at least physically.

Let me trail off a while as these acts... These thoughts might seem a bit odd for me. It has been too long since I have written anything. Since Michon left this world, assuming to the next, he was captured by Spectre. His soul us in the fatal grasp of a demon and I have been restless. I have hardly slept, hardly been able to concentrate on more than what is at hand for near a year. I had been forced to self preservation by Michon, he had to die if I were to continue, I could only hope that he would be delivered into the rift hands so that I may meet with him later. Since his capture I have been in dealings with Selk'Tar'Oth and admittedly it does not always show my best side but to be stronger I had to reclaim a portion of my destiny, at least for a while. Selk'Tar'Oth and I have merged to one, as we were when I was still alive. She is no longer just pulling the strings as Yaweh would, she and I are working like a well oiled machine.

As I had reclaimed the memories of my mortal life, tue reasons and motivations for how and why I do things became clear. Selk is one with order in chaos. She approved of my vision in perfection long ago. When the nightmares made sense is when I knew she was with me.

Now that we are together I can look at the wretched fools for a higher purpose. Too long have I stood on this plane and been abused. Too long I have sat and watched as rape, humiliation, torture and murder have commenced with hardly a reason to it. These beings, bound to this existence have no use within them save to power the machine of
my own creation.

There remain, a mere handful of creatures I have taken fondness to. These being I will kill personally, mercifully, before my design is set into place. They will go where they meant but Toxia will be the first to be claimed.

Denny being one of these people, he lay before me just as his god had created him. I doubly check my measurements in my head before I start. The design is already upon him, merely have to strike it into existence for him to see it too.

The work was meticulous, the conversation idle. Strike after strike to his body was like one upon my own. I watched him bleed and waited to clean it away, the final work was to be a surprise. When I came to his shoulders, working from the bottom up, Selk spoke to me. I nearly missed my mark as she reminded me what was to come next. It was to be Denenthorn's face.

Immediately the face of that boy was in my mind. The fact I had fixed his features, in the act killing him unknowingly. He was staring at me, just as he did when my father yanked me away. Sell whispered, "The time is now, you are too evenly matched and he bows to you."

My rhythm hesitated, Denenthorn noticed. I had hit too hard and he yelled at me. The time wasn't right. There is a ways more yet to go. I stopped. I told him I was finished and struggled hard against my wing to keep it down.

He dressed, seemed upset, and left. I stayed a while and cleaned up my tools, all the while arguing with Selk.

I wasn't finished. Selk and I came to the agreement that the design must be completed or she would leave me again. I had to make Denenthorn happy, I bad to free him before I would have to kill him. I had to show him what has happened inside my head so that he would understand, maybe even find a way to save me.

The Fight

The dearest librarians rallied together. The would force Michon to their grounds and defeat him. They would have to be quick tongued and quick on their feet.

I read the reports of the happening some time later and all had their part.

Mina was to spot Michon first. Rivers would follow soon after, his own emotions over took him and he struck first. Mina would stand back to watch in case something terrible were to happen. Rivers practically tackles Michon, yelling at him, "You vile creature! How could you lie to my sister!" he threw him form the building on which Michon had perched himself. Roxy was quick to throw herself on top of Michon and hold him down while Octobre made quick work with bindings that Lorne had created and imbued with a deep power to keep him bound. Octobre would not stop there, to further hinder him he shot ice through Michon's legs to keep him immobile, Roxy would so effeminately deliver a well placed kick to Michon's crotch. Rivers made his final peace with a kick to Michon's head and they all whisked him back to the library's basement where I had set up a welcoming of my own.

It had been days since Michon was seen and I was getting so tired. I let Selk'Tar'Oth over take me a bit to give me strength. My head turned black, my eyes smoking with darkness, even my wings wilted and curled unhealthily. I was not so much Felice as I was Her and I was more than ready to take on this giant.

When Michon was brought Octobre laid him over the table, securing him tightly and left me there with him. Lorne appeared from the depths of the darkness and cast some magic over Michon that would force him to live and feel every pain that I would deliever to him, Lorne turned Michon mortal.


I cut his chest open. I said that he would become my newest masterpiece. I was not myself... not as most would know me. Not as many would see me. I was Sister Dementia for certain at this time but I was as always driven by Felice. It was my hand, it was my words, I just needed the push from Her to stay my hand.

I tore his rib cage open, I cut it on either side to get to his heart. Just as he played with mine, I would play with his and he would never forget it. I would make sure of it.

"Lorne grins under the surgical mask, and chuckles lightly "Ah, the sound of bone under a saw. Unique. I hope you appreciate the privilage, Michon. Actual humans are not able to experience what it feels like to have their heart damaged enough that it no longer functions well enough to keep them alive. You, on the other hand, will have that opportunity. I have even taken the liberty of augmenting your nervous system's capacity for processing pain, so that it won't be overloaded, and cause you to miss out on any nuances.""

I reached into the cavity and used my own power to snap his ribs like chicken wings. I cupped his heart and took in the scent of his living blood. It held this muscle in my hands and looked into his face. He had come back, Michon was whole and he was terrified by what he saw.

I bore holes into his heart for my work to take place, root and grow.

"Felice Nightfire pushes her thumbs through to the other side, the creatures writhing still within him as she watches his face. "You stole my heart." she states, her dual tone resounding in the small room still, "I hardly want yours but only to show you what it is now." she mutters as a long barbed creature unfurls from her hand. It crawls around her wrist swiftly before diving into Michon's heart. It lengthens and twirls, fitting itself into each chamber still beating. The creature expands, letting its body lock itself within his heart so that with each beat the barbs would make her pain clear to him."

My work was finished but there was yet one more person for Michon to meet with. He deserved to have his say, he would be brought to the light as Felice would have wanted him to be.

"Felice Nightfire almost tenderly slide overs Michon's torso, pressing his muscles back into place once more as she mutters. A croaking sound from her chest can be hear as the creatures she set in Michon's body all scurry from him at once, creating new exits where there were none. These creatures crawl up her arms and into her mouth as she opens it, eating them as her hands work healing Michon's torso once more."

Michon would wait one more night and Felice would recover to deliver him.

The Plan

It was Mina who found Michon first. She approached him knowingly who he was, what he had done, and what she needed to reassure me of.

Needless to say he was completely lost in his own mind, he seemed to be suffering his own struggle. He was sent to hell for killing himself, for murdering me and lying his whole life to me as to where his loyalties had to hide.

Mina told me the moment she could find me, "He loves you."

I nearly broke upon hearing this. Ada soon followed after Mina nodding, "He love you but is very troubled."

I clasped my chest and heaved a bit. I was feeling sick, feeling faint, I sat and placed my head between my legs. The lovely girls came to my side and comforted me. Mina always with her words and Ada with her strong guardian presence. The reassured me that he was out of his mind, that he was convinced to be released from his personal hell he had to finish the job he was originally set to do. He had to kill me to be free. The three of us knew better than this, that it would only deepen his torment. I was stricken with grief that I nearly lost my own head. It was already such a challenge to accept that my lot in life was to be used as a weapon of sorts, then my love coming back and wanting to kill me. I simply sat in silence.

Octobre soon joined us and Mina briefed him on the situation. He too confirmed that Michon would not rest without my blood upon his hands.

So the three of them together devised a plan. The would trick Michon into being captured, at which point they would take him to the basement of the library, question him, find out what makes him tick and stop it.

It is rare that plans perform as well as what we hope.

The Stagnant

Thus I left them. I left most of this city to return my thoughts to myself. I wanted to ignore everything around me and let it all sink in. I spent a great deal of time on the beach or the boardwalk, collecting my thoughts. Much of my time was spent alone, that which was not in company of Ada or Mina or even Octobre for short whiles.

However, I could not escape Her. Selk'Tar'Oth wold not leave me alone. Instead she fueled my anger... I was angry at Denenthorn for what he charged my only one sided love to do. I could not be civil with myself without speaking to him about it. So i found him, alone, in the cemetery.

I approached and there were words. I wish I could say that there was a feirce battle, the likes of which drove my anger from me... but there was not. Those words exchanged were private. He gave me the right to kill him, I am most grateful not that I did not. He was to marry darling Vivi that Sunday, and forth that reason I would not murder him as he vicariously did me. I do not know if she knows the reasons... it is best left unsaid.

However with no vengence for my hatred Denenthorn spoke to me as only he could. Respectively I was without reason and he calmed me. The ice that had formed in my heart thawed and by the end of our conversation of wickness and duty. I had forgiven him. Still to this day he remains singularly who I would throw my life for. Vivi also... they come in a pair... both would damn my name should they properly know that though.

A plan was megerly formed. To know thine enemy is to know thy self. Considering I arrived to Toxia with hardly a name I had to find my past. Lorne was in the eather, it would have been too easy to ask him. I searched the library records, it came up with minimal information. My family names, my address, doctors notices... there had to be a way of contacting the past without contacting Michon personally.

I hate to admit it but I used my fellow librarians to this task, to my upmost joy they were eager and willing to help. I set them the tasks, described the man and they set to it. In the time between I sought my respected friends, those powerful in the seats they kept. I first set to meet with Dom of the Righteous Second in Command.

I did try to explain what was going on, the ever present battle in my head. This was when Selk'Tar'Oth screamed for blood, screamed for murder, to take and consume without ever think of the gravity of the situation. Dom in all of his brilliant splendor was blinded by his own light. His advise seemed to belittle me and I took it in stride. I tried to, still try to understand his God, his Light, his Voice... but all i could hear was Her whispering my ear to let Her take over, let her consume this Angel of power. I did give him thanks and I did consider it. To take in the light and drive out my own darkness. It was a plan that sounded flawless... however Selk'Tar'Oth knew and she snapped the idea from me in a nightmare. She convinced me enough that no light would drive her away.

I next sought Dio, leader of the Shadows. He and I have some history with each other, he to even have spent a good amount of time in the library under my wing. Since his time with the Shadows his mood and conversations had changed greatly. A near army at his finger tips and I felt the need to kneel to him. He would take none of that though and to my suprise spoke to me as though I were any equal. He had not forgotten me as I thought he would and allowed me to speak. He spoke to me of capturing Her as She was before... I assured him that she would not fall so easily for that again and it was most like sweeping a problem under a rug. She would escape and find me agian and Her reign would be all the more horrible. He then had urgent business to attend and I stepped away considering that if She is made of darkness, she would certianly consume that which any Shadow would provide.

My final stop was to Jaco, the Voice of the Coven. He and I keep good terms but he knew nothing of my creation. I told him of it and he himself was quite bewildered. He said that he would seek advice from the Gods and Goddesses that he worships but that they rarely tell him anything. He then said that it would be best to follow what I thought was right.

I set to do so. What felt right was revenge. What felt right was to kill Michon and end his physical life. But my love for him could not die so easily. I knew not what could be done with his soul.

I had to wait for my librarians to report to me.

The Return

Apparently he had been in the city long enough to survey the area, even talk to a few citizens. It was not until one of my personal prized possessions was missing did I find that he had returned.

I had walked into the library looking to take the stress away from the city, curl up by the fire and open my personal copy of Hamlet, something that I have kept with me in life and was delivers to me after my rebirth. When I found it missing I was very unnerved, no one knew where I had hid it, no one could have known it was behind the first two editions of Biochemistry of the Hatch ling Magpie and the sixth edition of Practical Alchemy. Someone had looked for it and meant to take it, I had not a clue why, it was only important to myself.

Regardless I had to find it and quickly, I did not want to make a fuss so I went to see the only person I could trust with finding such a personal object, Vivi. I headed for the church and stood a bit to let Denny and Vivi bicker on about something, I was most preoccupied with my thoughts to have paid close attention. After a bit of light banter I requested Vivi to scry for my book. I do not trust magic so much bt I recall it being rather effective in the past.

She worked quickly and it only took moments to find that it was a man wearing a hat with a noose around his neck who had stolen it. This description meant nothing to me but it bristled Denny quite a bit.

It was soon explained that a man named Michon had stolen it. This was a name I had not heard or even muttered since my life. It stung deeply and worried me that it was so possible for my past to have returned.

I admit, my reaction was... ungraceful, even rude. Denny was keeping something from me and this infuriated me even more. I know now that he was trying to protect me...but I escaped my wrath inflicting others and quickly and traveled to the hospital roof for some peace. I had to think because Denny must have been lying Michon had been long dead now.

Dearest Mina followed me, she wanted to know that I was alright. I stood there, staring out over the city, but not at anything. My mind was exploding within myself, Selk'Tar'Oth screaming at me for blood, myself trying to understand. Mina was struck by my hand when she tried to comfort me. I was losing it already and quickly apologized. She replied saying it was nothing to be concerned for, but her words did not register. She asked if I wanted to talk, the least I could do was oblige her... my death is not uncommon knowledge.

I told her that once I loved a gentleman, the man who took me away from the asylum, took care of me, loved me... that he went mad in the middle of one of my... episodes and had no choice but to put me out of my misery. Of course... it was his form of mercy towards me that three blows to the head with a lead pipe would do it. But he did love me, I know it, why did he have to end my existence?

Denenthorn had been listening... he spoke, "Because he was under orders to do such a thing..."

This struck me hard, I had been given orders before, for the Illuminati, for the House. But the way Michon loved me could not have been orders.

Denny spoke again at my denial and my questioning, ""He was under orders to do this.... because you created something.... cause you had to be an artist...Skilled enough to catch the eyes of your current benefactors and my former employers...Michon was merely a tool.... a catalyst...." he murmured, "It was not Michon who decided you needed to die.... in truth he is not the reason you're an angel.... just the cause....""

My head was swimming, who, why? What in the world could I have done to deserve such treatment? What did being an artist have to do with anything, Michon truly loved me, he was stressed over his work, my health, and our state of living, he did not have a choice, how could it have been orders? Everything gushing through my thoughts at once was making me light headed and I dared to not stand for this news, it was a weakness but one I think Mina and Denny understood. I demanded to know who gave the order.

Denny looked dead on into my eyes, "Me."

I denied it and he refused this, stating it was of his bosses order but that he was the one that had to give it to Michon, due to my Masterpiece. Because I created something that this world should not know about, because I created something that I should not have even imagined, because my Father had to give me a gift in remembrance. Because I was a mortal, I would not have time to finish my Masterpiece and the Illuminati wanted control over its power because... apparently, upon its completion, Selk'Tar'Oth would rise and the Order wanted that power.

This news was ridiculous, over my head, inconceivable, out of my realm... but completely true. I needed a moment to recalculate my entire existence.

Through the dust that has settled

A new Toxia arises.

Soon after the city was shaken, nearly to the ground, there was an abundance of power swelling through the city. Whispers spread, turning to chit chat, then idle talk, soon became yelling and shouting for vengeance and congratulations for new found homes.

Thusly, the Toxian shuffle occurred. Denny moved to the Church, Lorne moved to the lIbrary, Jaco succeeded over all else and runs the Voo Doo shop, as Dio must have rushed passed Kishi's temper to take the throne of the Pit; possibly dodging a new woman named Calypso who takes charge of the Garage.

Though these times for the library are new still, it goes without question that the library has sustained well. We have taken in many new members and have run story telling once more. I must confess though, his magic has caused me to consider tying these new fangled, fabric softener, static cling fighting, dyer sheets to my wings.