Bee Hoon

I scarcely heard the Constable of Nessus as he announced the myriad titles of the Hell’s Master. Instead, I struggled to remain conscious as I stared into the mirror and through my pit fiend courier. An unbearable pressure had descended upon me. Sweat, thick and cold, coated my flesh. My head felt gripped between the jaws of a dragon. A rushing sound, like that of water in rapids, took hold of my hearing. My heart seemed ready to flee from my chest. A terrible pain, driven by unreasoning fear, filled me. I heard something whisper my name. Not my name as I write it or as my friends speak it, but the name that I know in the depths of my soul to be my True Name. I knew it was time for me to end this venture, to cease my reckless foolishness. I tried to turn away from the mirror, yet something held me. Something commanded me to bear witness. To serve.