(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

corruption and feed off of wickedness, and when you've done as much as
you can to see them swell with power and bloat with their sins, you lead
them to their deaths, and go on to the next host."
"But-" the book sounded afraid, "How long have you known?"
"All along, since the moment I first touched you," I chuckled, "But you're not
as clever as you think you are, little tome. For one, I am immortal. You can't
get rid of me that easily."
"M-master-"
"For another, I am no weak-minded idiot who is so easily seduced by
power," my finger tapped the cover, and I rested my chin in the palm of my
other hand, "No, I knew what you were. You led me nowhere. I chose to
take the path I did, and you gave me all the power I wanted."
"But-" the tome whimpered, "I can still serve, master. I have had many
owners, know many of their secrets and their ways. I can still be your ally,
your loyal servant!"
"No, you can't. I've drained you dry of all your magic, little tome, and I have
no use for you anymore," I channeled a simple spell through my fingertips,
and smoke began to waft from the page that I touched, "And I have no need
for useless things."
The book shrieked as it was consumed by fat tongues of flame. Smoky black
fire bloomed around the edges, ate away its pages with ravenous hunger.
I fed my past into that flame as I watched it burn. Memories of Morte, who
was now little more than broken shards of teeth and bone lining the bottom
of a bin after he tried to turn me into the Harmonium. Memories of
Fall-From-Grace, who politely declined to continue traveling with me, saying
she had experienced enough of betrayal and hatred. Memories of Dak'kon,
now more broken and nameless than I was.
And lastly, I burned the memory of Annah, who gave her heart to me so that
I might plunge a dagger in it. She still rests on a heap in Ragpicker's Square,
you know. The Collectors won't touch her, nibbled by the rats and fat with
worms. And yet they leave the eyes, staring off into space, still bright with
unshed tears.
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