On the first day, Glabburn woke in confusion. He rose from the chair he found himself in, looking about uneasily. The mugwump stood at the center of a circle of dim light, the granite floor beneath his feet vanishing into blackness in all directions. A sense of unease came over him as he stared into the shadows. “Hello?” he called.

After what seemed like an eternity, his own voice echoed back to him, faint and hollow, but he heard nothing else. It seemed he was truly alone in this strange place. Unease finally gave way to boredom as the minutes went by, dragging into hours, and finally Glabburn inched out into the darkness, seeking a way out.

He edged out carefully, testing the footing as he shuffled forward, not wanting to plunge to his death in the shadows. Every so often, he looked back, using the distant chair in the light as a point of reference as he navigated forward. After what seemed like hours of walking, he looked back, and couldn’t see the chair at all. Glabburn started in shock as he looked about, wondering if he’d somehow gotten turned around, but there was no sign of the light anywhere.

As he froze, wondering what to do, cold air breezed over the back of his neck. The mugwump turned with a startled cry, but saw nothing, until the darkness parted with a cruel, gleaming smile.

--+--

On the second day, Glabburn woke with some surprise, as he distinctly recalled an impossibly strong monster flaying him with his own spine. He stood bolt upright, feeling over his body, but he seemed completely unharmed. He took brief relief in this before he realized that he was in the circle of light once again, surrounded by darkness.

Turning, he grabbed the chair, and with a grunt of effort, lifted it off the floor, holding it as a makeshift weapon. Soft laughter emanated from the shadows as he stared about wildly, looking for any sign of the monster. He tensed as the smile appeared before him, not ten feet away and drifting closer. Glabburn raised the chair over his head, ready to strike.

When it came close enough, the mugwump rushed forward and swung. The chair shattered against the floor, and he heard more laughter as pain and a terrible weight shot into his back. As claws tore out his innards, the last thing Glabburn saw was the darkness still smiling at him.

--+--

On the third day, Glabburn woke with a scream, and promptly smashed the chair against the floor, shattering it and wielding its legs as clubs. He stood in the center of the light, in a loose approximation of a martial stance, waiting for any sign of the beast.

The darkness cackled at his presumption, and half-seen shapes darted at the edge of his vision. He turned and followed them as best as he was able, but once he lost sight of one, something barreled into his back. He screamed as he was lifted by one ankle, and shattered against the floor as he’d shattered the chair.

--+--

On the fourth day, Glabburn froze, refusing to move and barely daring to breathe. Gripping the chair tightly in his webbed hands, he stared directly ahead, praying that the thing in the darkness wouldn’t sense him.

His heart pounded in his chest as the smile appeared in the distant shadows, advancing on him slowly. As it came forward, the dim light from above faded into nothing, plunging the cringing mugwump into utter blackness.

A brief whimper escaped Glabburn’s throat, despite his best efforts, and the darkness lunged, strangling him with icy talons.

--+--

On the fifth day, Glabburn awoke, bolted upright, and ran screaming into the darkness. He ran with eyes closed, knowing that all he would see was that mocking, hateful smile in the dark. His feet slapped stone floor as he sprinted for all he was worth, step after hasty step, until his footing abruptly gave way and he plunged into nothing.

Mocking laughter followed his descent as he tumbled into oblivion, bouncing from rock to jagged rock in an agonizing fall punctuated by the shattering of his bones. When he finally reached the bottom of the stygian chasm, his body was little more than pulp, and the darkness grinned at him as he bled out his last.

--+--

On the sixth day, Glabburn awoke with a scream. “Please! What do you want?” he howled into the darkness. “Have mercy! I’ll do anything!”

“I want your fear,” the darkness replied, before it seized him.

--+--

On the twelfth day, Glabburn laughed, though no joy touched his voice. “It’s over. There’s nothing more you can do to me. I have no fear left for you, creature,” he called, in a weary tone.

There was no response for a long while, and then his heart seized as he heard a familiar voice in the darkness. “Daddy?”

“Ogla?” he breathed.

“Daddy, I’m scared…” his daughter’s voice whined, before it suddenly erupted into a shriek of terror.

Automatically, he got up and ran. He stumbled over half of Ogla’s body in the darkness, and by the time he’d processed what had happened, the beast was upon him.

--+--

On the twentieth day, Glabburn reached his daughter before she’d stopped screaming. Sobbing, he clutched her mangled body to his chest, silently grateful for her warmth, even as she bled out into the shadows.

“Shh, sweetie… I’m here. It’s alright,” he murmured.

“It hurts, Daddy,” the little girl moaned. “It hurts. Why does it hurt?”

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll get out of here.”

“I’m cold, Daddy…”

Before Glabburn could answer, his daughter was snatched from his arms. He snarled in hatred, but didn’t even have time to swing at the darkness before he was brutally clubbed across the face. It took him a moment to realize that the beast was beating him with his daughter’s body.

--+--

On the twenty-sixth day, Glabburn reached his daughter unharmed. Distantly, he knew that something especially awful was going to happen, but he held her close and comforted her anyway.

“Why is this happening, Daddy?” Ogla whispered.

“I don’t know, love,” Glabburn replied. “It hates us. And keeps bringing us back.”

“Why do you keep letting it kill me, Daddy?”

The mugwump winced and squeezed his daughter tightly. “I don’t know how to stop it, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep letting it kill me, Daddy?” Ogla repeated.

“I keep trying to save you, honey…”

“Why do you keep letting it kill me, Daddy?” This time, her voice was deeper, and as he looked down, Glabburn noticed a familiar-looking grin on his daughter’s face, gleaming through the darkness.

--+--

On the twenty-seventh day, Ogla tore out Glabburn’s ribs, one by one.

On the thirty-ninth day, Ogla choked Glabburn with his own tongue.

On the forty-second day, Glabburn finally snapped and stabbed his daughter through the heart with a broken shard of the chair. All Glabburn ever saw of her after that was an indelible bloodstain staring him in the face each time he woke, a brief reminder of his failure before the torture began anew.

--+--

On the hundredth day, satisfied that Manteekan’s toy would extract nothing more from Glabburn, Nocht pried the mugwump loose and finally allowed him to die. That done, He set about making another fae of fear, pain and despair from the Morokeche Seat’s extract, but not before putting in a new source of fuel.

--+--

On the first day, Ogla woke in confusion.