I’ve always loved the cold. The chilly embrace of my bed's blanket, the crisp chill of fall air, and the quiet of the sleeping forest as it waits for the next spring. But where I live, the cold is too much. When I’m home, I like to light the fire and read a book while listening to the howls outside. While engaging in this bliss, I was called forth. The black pool of ichor seeped from non-existence in front of me, signaling that I was being hired out. While I love my time at home, the job was also enjoyable, and as of late, there have been fewer and fewer requests.

  The ichor took me exactly where needed and allowed me to orient myself. It feels a little denser than water moving through it. The ichor felt cold and pleasant to touch like slime. I think it would be better to say that I tolerate the ichor more than anything. When I first started this job, it was thoroughly unpleasant to wade my way through. But it is the only way my kind has access to the material world, so there is no point in complaining. When I got there, I saw a disheveled man kneeling over an altar; he had set up the proper circle and the ceremonial candles. It has been a while since someone put in this much effort.

  “Who is it who calls me?” I asked through the dripping ichor

  The man stood and jolted his head around the room.

  “What was that? Why is it so distorted?’ He asked wide-eyed and trembling, slowly backing to the wall

  “Who is it who calls me? What is it you desire?” I repeated furrowing my brow

  The man's dread shed off his face to reveal an expression of abhorrent joy, a type of sadistic pleasure from his achievement in summoning me.

  “My name is Mr. Broader, and I want someone dead,” he said stepping forward

  “Who?”

  “William Von Heist,” The man winced at the name before balling his fist

  I stepped out of the icor and into my material form. I am extremely proud of this form, its noble appearance, its shiny coat, and its deadly efficiency as if made for me and my purposes.

  “Why is it I should dull my claws? Why is it I should stain my teeth? Why is it I should sully my coats Sheem? Why is it he should die?”

  “He made my life hell for the longest time, and I could bear it because my family needed me. But now they are dead directly because of that bastard,”

  “I see, where is he?”

  “He has a manor north of here with a bird crest. When you kill him make it hurt. You see he is a very powerful man who I worked for but once I quit he kidnapped my wife and daughter and then killed them out of spite. The light of my life is gone and this is the only thing I have left.” Mr. Broader looked down and shed a single tear.

  I gazed out the window uninterested in the man's sob story and saw the skyline of the city. It had been a long time since I was here last. The torches illuminating the peculiar buildings were brighter than I had ever seen like in the time I wasn’t here they stole a portion of the sky and used its stars. Continuing to ignore Mr. Broader, I slipped the window open and sniffed the air. It was crisp just as I liked it, although the insistent noise of the streets was not my cup of tea.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “How did you open the window?” he asked

  “I think I would like to explore this strange city, the manor with a bird crest, right? I asked

  “Um, yes, but what are you planning?” Mr. Broader asked

  “I’m simply going to kill him at his home, then I expect your soul as my pay.”

  He began to say something, but before he could finish his thought, I leaped from the window into a free fall. I grabbed onto the side bricks and ran across the wall. Then jumped off it to an Adjoining roof, roof to roof I ran exploring the new sights, sounds, and smells of this strange land. Among all the curiosities I encountered, I had a few favorites. Firstly, the people of this land had somehow tamed beasts made of metal. I challenged a stampede of them on a bridge supported by ropes and arches of Immense proportions. The beasts were non-combative during every encounter, either opting to charge past me or stop completely. I only managed to scrape out a single victory in the end, though. As passive as the beasts were, their shells were hard to crack.

  Another thing I encountered was a man pulling meat that resembled logs out of an enclosed cart. It smelled of pork and other assorted meats, but most of all, it smelled delicious. I asked the man for a taste, but was met with shock. We stood for a while before deciding this silence was permission and pulling a log out myself. As soon as it touched my tongue, my heart skipped a beat. Even the food changed in my absence, if the common man could enjoy such a delicacy, then what would the noble have at the manor?

  I dashed through alleyways and roads, the metal beasts bellowing at me throughout. Up the walls the upper crust uses, useless against my efforts. I scanned the area for any sign of a bird, prepared to be rewarded for my efforts. Then I spotted a building I recognized all too well. Memories of when I was last summoned resurfaced to plague my subconscious. How could I forget the ornate and self-important nature of this blasted place? The Mansion used to be one that the royal family frequented. I will never forget the pain I endured for the sick amusement of the partygoers. Especially that damned king, this is no longer a job; it's now personal. Imagine me being summoned only to be tortured for no other purpose than amusement, even though I am not that cruel. I would simply get the work done and move on. That is what made this personal, torture is such nonsense, just like what this man did to that Bourder fellow. As soon as I get this done, I can buy myself more time to explore this world with that man's soul. There are so many curiosities here I wish to understand.

  The inside was clean, in complete contrast to the old exterior. There were also no guards, strange even for this era, I think. I inched forward, slithering up the stairs and sneaking down the hall till I heard the faint beating of a heart. I have you now. I peered inside the study to see a man sitting by the fire and reading a book while drinking. Not too different from what I would be doing, but this scene just reminded me of what I could look forward to after the deed was done. I then opened the door

  “Hello? Who is there?” The man asked the air

  “Are you Hisit?” I responded

  “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” The man asked his eyes darting from the door to the fire picker and back again

  I leaped out from the shadows and into the man. He crawled away in a panic and reached desperately for the fire poker. He managed to grab it and took a swing. I caught the iron rod and bit it in half, dashing any hope that he once had.

  “Are you Hesit?”

  “Ye- Yes, please don’t kill me,” he bawled

  Without hesitation, I grabbed his neck tightly and yanked. Hesit’s last moments were him choking on blood although he didn’t have a throat. I saw the fire leave his eyes before his body became limp and useless, replacing that fire with an icey glance that could no longer care. I’ve always loved the cold.