Private Finished Burning the Pages

A disappointing answer but an understandable one. Whatever future ideas Monday may have for the tome would have to wait when he could have a chance ensure everyone's safety and a understanding of what dangers could be in its writing.

"Very well Monday. If that is what you think is best." answered Candle. After some... tribulation they spoke up again and added to her previous statement.

"Should you ever consider making the book... safe for disposal, I would like to request to be the one to destroy it... if such a thing is possible. But whatever comes of that book I will leave to your best judgement to handle."

Candle at first stared at Monday, unsure of their intentions nor the purpose of describing Grostman's character. But if Monday was asking them to best describe that foul man's appearance then so it will be.

"A thin built man whom hides his wirey frame under a thick silken dyed in precious purple and embroidered with golden threads of swirling star-like patterns. For all of his granduer he leaves his spidery fingers and long untirmed nails bear for all to witness. Yet despite his infirm appearances he always stood erect at imposing 78 centimeters and was as spry as jackrabbit even in his old age."

Candle watches Monday as they recollect Grostman's appearance as they grew curious of what it was Monday was concocting. Having served him "faithfully" for many decades they could describe that man down to his very last wart if they were given enough time. Candle however though a detailed discription of his face would wrap it all up nicely.

"His cheeks were gaunt and his sockets sullen like skull wrapped with shriveled skin.. shrived like a raisin with creases too innumerable to count.. A hooked nose broken and forever skewed a touch to the left from some incident in early misbegotten youth. Bald with only whispery strands of white hair and liverspots that crown his head. Comically large ears that droop as if half melted wax. Thin cracked lips frozen in permanent, serious scowl. The rare times he does let out so much as a snear, there lie behind long rectangular dentures that clack like horses teeth. On that pointed chin he grew his greying beard long and crooked, hanging from his face like a horse's tail. Under his bushy brow are his eyes; forever squinting yet they hide the glint of genius... and ambitions never sated. With blackened pupils he cast a look that even terrible beast... come to fear."

Candle sat by patiently as Monday made marks on the page. After some time Monday finished with his work and spun the paper around for them to view. It was... uncanny how close Monday's image was to the Grostman of their memory despite having never laying an eye on the man.

"Yes." answered Candle they look directrly to Monday's eyes. Though their face was expressionless they wondered what need Monday had of this drawing and how it was suppose to help.

Candle followed Monday as instructed to the backyard. They observed as Monday preformed some sort of ritual. Whatever it was was Candle stood by as but simple bystander as her master inscribed their runes and chanted their magicks. As he stepped back, the image began to take on a familiar shape.

When Candle saw the unncanniness of Grostman now given form, at first they had thought Monday summoned Herman Grostman from the far depths of the Nether itself. Candle stiffed, their mind instinctively ready for those lips to whisper some command to them only to realize that the Grostman before her was nothing but a convincing copy made by Monday. Given permission to do as they please, Candle nods and stares at the face of their former master for a few moments. They then sharply inhaled before letting out a loud roar of anguish against that ugly likeness of that man whom tortured their existence.

"GHRRHHAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

With that harpy scream there also came a torrent of flame completely engulfed that figure of Grostman whom greeted the fire with a smug snear still on his wizened face. Candle continued to scream, the fires glowed brighter and brighter as it looked to threaten burn down the backyard... and maybe even the neighborhood too! But after a solid minute Candle finally stopped and bent over trying to catch their breath.

Though the fires seemed intense, nothing appeared to have the list bit singed by the fire. Not even any blackened soot marks can be seen and none of the plants appear burnt. Nothing was damaged except for that copy of Grostman which had completely disappeared with only chalk lines indicating where it once stood.

Seeing that Grostman was no looking at them teasingly no longer, the erected their posture and turned to Monday. As they looked, they seemed a bit... unsure as to what to say.

"Much." was all Candle stated. It has been forever since they last just let out all of their anger. When they first realized they were trap they were practically a raging inferno at all times. But as their servitude dragged on they knew their outbursts where pointless and that it just became easier to just obey slavishly than get angery over it all. In fact, for just that moment they didn't feel any angry harboring deep within them but a strange... calm. It was momentary but an interesting feeling nevertheless.

"... I would like to thank you. I know it does not reverse what Grostman has done but it felt nice to have power over that man." thanked Candle, though it felt off to say such a thing for her kind were not in the business of giving genuine thanks to just anyone.