Rain hammered against the shoddy, painted glass which had been installed to replace the shattered portion of the banquet hall window. Extremely Psycho noted how the dark dye was applied unevenly and had dried in blotted streaks. The new glass prevented the entry of the sun well enough, but it looked exceedingly crude against the rest of the window. He was pleased to note, however, that just as well as the inferior glass kept out the sun, it kept out the rain with equal success.
All had been quiet lately. An uneasiness seemed to permeate throughout the Bane World, a feeling which appeared to affect everyone. He wondered what other problems existed for the World of Affliction other than those concerning Tim. It had now been a full two weeks' time since the assault by the shadow demon, and they had been on guard ever since.
Extremely's thoughts turned back to the window. "I'll be sure to have Jester do a much better job of this," he spoke to himself, turning away from the rain and back to the sanctity of the castle's dark interior.
Tim was laying motionless on his bunk, staring into the ceiling. Once again, he had spent multiple straight hours in deep thought. His existence was still difficult to ponder, but time bred more understanding of its full implications. Like it or not, he would ultimately experience death as most creations do naturally, and he accepted this. Only now, rather than fear, a bitterness had developed within him. It had not taken the boy long to share the contempt of his new peers for the gods who had previously counted him close to their rank.
His duty now was to make the decision of what to do with the rest of his life, suddenly condemned from being limitless to indeterminably finite. As he listened to the onslaught of the rain above his roof, one thought alone emerged to be perfectly clear. If he was to do anything with his damned life, he'd have to begin by prolonging it. There were those who meant to destroy him, and he needed to protect himself from them if do anything at all.
Lord Dangerously Psycho and the Drum Boy were reviewing scores of maps and charts of the World of Affliction which had been collecting dust in the disarray of the castle's library. Jester threw another withered sketching down from the shelves to the pair.
"I wish more of our populous could have mastered writing," spoke Lord Psycho, trying to make sense of series of drawings which all lacked lettering. "Maps are useless without direction."
"Or grids," added Drum Boy. "Some of these landmarks no longer exist, either."
"They would if someone hadn't gone around destroying them for entertainment," muttered Jester under his breath as he continued to search for anything which could aid Tim. It had been made clear for all that it was in the boy's best interests not to stay in one place if such powerful forces were meaning to destroy him at all costs. But where to go had yet to be determined. The three continued their search in the small room of the castle.
And the rain continued to fall throughout the night.