Tonight, Madison did a bad thing. The members of his group tried to lessen his fears and soothe him with condolences, but he knew better. No matter how hard he tried to stay on their good side, he always failed. The omnipotent one once explained that Madison had a lot of learning and growing to do and, considering he had the Eye of Tyrion, perhaps it was best to stay on his good side.
Flying through the forests, scaring all the birds aloft, Madison and his kind feared nothing. In time the villagers would latch their doors shut and drag their livestock into their pens. An alarm bell would peal their presence as little children, stout and strong, shiver while ducking behind their frightened mothers, clutching at their waistcoats as the best defense against the monsters.
But tonight, the omnipotent one owned a hunger he’d never felt before. Had it been weeks since their last invasion? Surely it was time to remind the villagers of their place. They could craft all the wood and metal arms their best engineers could devise, but it would make no difference. The rumbling in their stomachs screamed volumes, and they were here to collect.
As they swooped downward towards the unlucky, Madison found himself confronting a trembling man and his two young daughters in their humble cottage. Part of him wanted to apologize, yet his piercing hunger needed appeasement. Staring into the villagers’ eyes, he could read their troubled existence, their years of toiling on the farms etched deeply within. As he moved closer, he suddenly came across the large circular silvery mirror hanging on the distant wall. Abandoning his catch, he walked over to it.
“This,” he screeched, “is not me! I, too, have a soul!”
“Please,” the father begged, “spare us. We have done no harm to you. We want to live just like you.”
“My existence,” Madison insisted, “is dependent on you. That is the one truth.”
“Can I change your mind?” the farmer asked as he shielded his daughters behind him.
“I have a hunger you cannot fathom,” Madison extolled. “My insides rip with pain of immense proportions.”
“And I’m sure it’s a pain you despise,” the father observed.
“Of course!” Madison yelled. “Do you think I wish to be humbled by my own body? Do you think I enjoy this loss of control?”
“There must be some way you can be helped besides all this wanton killing,” the farmer suggested. “There must be a way.”
Madison reached into his pocket and brought out a silver dagger topped by a flaming eye.
“This,” he explained, “is The Eye of Tyrion. One slash and my pain will end.”
“I don’t understand,” the farmer said.
Madison blindingly zipped over to him, grabbed his hand, and laid the dagger in it.
“Just one cut,” he stated, pointing to his own neck. “And make it deep.”
“I…I’m not like your kind!” the farmer stuttered.
“Do it!” Madison shouted. “You have no choice!”
The farmer stared at the intruder then looked at the blade in his hands.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t do it.”
“Then this is your final night!” Madison yelled as he grabbed the farmer’s neck.
Instinctively, the frightened father quickly raised the dagger and thrust it into Madison’s neck. His daughters screamed as they watched the intruder fall to his knees in his own pool of blood. Seconds later, his body turned to ashes leaving his clothes and the dagger behind. The farmer hugged his daughters.
“I think we’re safe,” he whispered.
The oldest daughter bent down and picked up the dagger.
“I hope so,” she whispered.