All of the beasts and the group of humans once again went to their glorious work of harvesting Spirit Essence for their Lord.
Under the pale, ethereal lights of the three moons, they all performed the same actions, the same repetitive, mindless tasks, as they had done the night before. There was no sense of individuality, no hint of a desire to do something different.
Sezel as a mirrored copy of others around him did the same thing. He would stop momentarily, a question, a doubt, a sense of wrongness, bubbling to the surface of his mind. But then, as quickly as it had come, it would be gone, suppressed by the single, all-consuming thought that he needed to make sure that his Lord had an adequate amount of Spirit essence.
The Lord. He didn't know who, or what, it was. The thought of asking, of trying to peek behind the curtain, never even crossed his mind. It was as if his thoughts, were being controlled by someone, or something, else.
