Post

Inside, Delegata created a simple wooden chair and sat Gatraka down in it. Delegata took the form of a young witch apprentice - the appearance she had as a girl around fifteen years old. The walls, ceiling, and floor blurred a bit with illusory magic. Gatraka awoke and looked around for a moment before turning to Delegata.
"Delegata? What's going on? Why have you taken that form?"
Delegata looked at Gatraka and began to cry.
"Oh, Master Gatraka, please don't take him away!"
Delegata rushed forward and clung desperately at Gatraka's leg, begging.
Gatraka was confused a bit, and Iblion realized that Delegata was psychically messing with Gatraka's perception of reality. Gatraka caught up to the illusion and seemingly began to play her part in it.
"...Now now. You know the rules, Apprentice Delegata. We cannot have unsanctioned relationships forming between us and wizards. You know the rules."
"Oh, but please, please do not separate me from him! I promise that I won't let it get in the way of my duties."
"Rules are rules, Apprentice. You have not been given permission."
"Please! Give us permission! I'll do anything! Anything at all!"
"That's not how it works, and you know it."
As Delegata continued to beg and plead, her form slowly changed from the idyllic child. Her fingernails slowly lengthened and sharpened into black claws that began to dig into Gatraka's skin. The tears turned to blood. The tips of her dark hair turned into tiny needles and barbs that poked at scratched at Gatraka. Gatraka began to notice and tried to push Delegata away.
"Delegata...stop...are you alright?"
Delegata looked up at Gatraka, revealing solid black eyes with bloodred irises, with blood-tear stains running down her cheeks. The blood in her veins turned black and Delegata slowly turned into something from a nightmare.
"Am I alright? Do you think I am alright?"
Delegata slowly stood up.
"Do you know how it feels to have what you love ripped away from you like that? Do you?"
A knife appeared in Delegata's clawed hand.
"Here, let me show you how it felt."
Delegata lifted the knife and placed the tip against the bottom left of Gatraka's ribcage. Delegata began to push, and the knife began to cut. Gatraka screamed in pain, but Delegata's face remained filled with hatred as the knife pierced ever deeper, making its way to Gatraka's heart. Gatraka's screams continued, as she was kept not only alive but fully conscious by Delegata as the knife went through Gatraka's heart. She could feel the blade as her heart continued to pound against it, her severed diaphragm continuing to push and pull against Delegata's hand. Delegata twisted the blade a bit and kept the blade inserted for several minutes before slowly removing it.
Gatraka managed to collect herself and stop screaming in pain, though the pain never stopped. Delegata was merely making sure that Gatraka could hear her. Delegata's form also changed, growing a few years older, slowly, until she looked to be nearly the age that she usually looked.
"Of course, you didn't go for his heart when you killed him, did you? No, you didn't. Do you remember what you did with this blade?
Delegata held up the knife to Gatraka indicatively. The knife had shifted to a longer blade, a machete of sorts. Delegata leaned in closer.
"DO YOU!? I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT!"
Gatraka nodded.
"I...I...I killed him...slit his throat..."
"SLIT HIS THROAT!? NO, YOU DIDN'T HOLD BACK LIKE THAT. LET ME REMIND YOU JUST WHAT YOU DID TO HIM."
With a quick motion, Delegata swung the blade and decapitated Gatraka. Her head dropped to the floor, but she was still alive.
"YOU KILLED HIM RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, AND THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO. NOW THERE IS NOTHING THAT I CANNOT DO, NOTHING THAT I WILL NOT DO..."
Delegata reached out with her left hand, and the head flew up into her grasp. Gatraka looked into Delegata's dark eyes with immense fear.
"...EXCEPT LET YOU DIE."
Delegata placed the head back on the neck, roughly reattaching it.
"No...you shall live as long as I do. You shall watch the world burn because of your actions. But that is later. First there is one last crime you must be reminded of."
Delegata shifted form once more to the age that Iblion knew her as.
"Do you know what it is like to be placed within a Sorcerer Orb? Of course you don't. You couldn't. You never will. But I will get you close enough."
Gatraka lifted into the air, hovering a foot above the ground, and the chair disappeared. Delegata began to slowly walk in a circle around Getraka. Nothing appeared to be happening, but as Gatraka began to scream again, Iblion could see what was happening. Starting at the fingertips and toes, and moving slowly towards Gatraka's head, Gatraka's insides were being pulverized and mixed about as though put into a blender. Her skin, slowly becoming just a bag for the mush, began to burn and peel.