The Crown of blood

III

Pain lanced through Ullsaard's mind, needles of agony driving into his brain. He fell to the ground and writhed as he felt his mind being shredded and gouged, torn at and pulled apart. His clothes soaked up the blood of Lutaar as he floundered across the floor in a swirl of crimson, a silent scream twisting his face.

Rolling to all fours, Ullsaard dipped his head and vomited as the Crown fell to the floor with a clatter.

The pain stopped and Ullsaard slumped to the tiles, gasping for breath, eyes screwed shut. He lay there for some time, the memory of the pain he had felt almost as much as the pain itself. When his breath came steadily and his heart was no longer hammering against his breastbone, Ullsaard opened his eyes and pushed himself up to his knees.

He looked at his reflection in the blood-spattered gold of the Crown. He could see no wounds upon his head or face, and he looked the same as he had done for the last few years. But something felt like it had changed.

Leaning forward to peer closely at himself, Ullsaard had the strangest feeling that someone else was looking out of his eyes.

"Who are you?" he whispered, looking at his distorted features around the rim of the Crown.

Askhos, replied a voice inside his head.