Torment stood before the swirling water, screams of agony cascading over him, and watched the scene play out. He watched with fascination as the whip fell again. His dark gaze never wavered as the bound form jerked with the blow.

The muscled arm raised, and the whip swung back whistling through the air sharply.

/Enough./ His command was carried on the sound of weeping.

Next to him the air was warm and shimmered with laughter. He turned his attention to his twin, glad she had joined him in the anguish.

/Torment, my sweet suffering, what delight has brought me here today?/ Her voice was an ecstatic moan.

/Delight./ The screams faded away as Torment buried his face in her long, red hair. He knew that she had many names. She was the personification of pleasure in its many forms and was the only one who could turn the agony into joy.

He loved her as he loved no other. Without her he was nothing, and he accepted this knowledge for the truth it was. Could his depth of pain be understood without her expansive pleasures?

He pulled her into himself, sharing his thoughts, exchanging his sweet torment for her exquisite delight. How long he stood there joined with her he could not be sure, perhaps a brief moment or a lifetime, but the gentle clicking of shuttles interrupted their communion.

He turned to the interloper, and became aware again of his surroundings and the never ending suffering.

Delight moved from his side and returned to her companion of late, Beauty. What his wife/sister could see in the young goddess was beyond him. He did not fully understand her existence. Beauty was such a fading, fleeting thing. Unimportant in the weave of life. And yet she existed. Delight had spent much time in Beauty's company, but he felt no jealousy. She would return to him. She always did. Delight and Torment, they were of the same weave. They could not be separated.

/Torment, tell us why you have called us to the Chambers of Anguish./ Fate addressed him again, pulling him from his thoughts of his sister and her delights.

"Yes, Torment, why are we here?" Justice asked in the sounds of mortals.

Torment ignored Justice, understanding the younger God's impatience. They sometimes hunted together, but they did not often get along. Justice could not understand why Torment *must* cast his seed evenly among the mortals. To him there was a wrong and a right. A good and an evil. Those that were good and just deserved deliverance while those that were evil and unjust deserved punishment. Torment knew that black and white did not exist as Justice seemed to believe. The world was a myriad of greys, and he treated them each the same.

/This isn't working./ Torment turned his gaze back to the bloodied body that hung from the Cross of Torment. The sobs of pain and anguish washed over them all. /Nothing has changed. He has learned nothing./ Screams of desperation echoed through the room, Torment's anger evident in their sound.

/Who isn't learning?/ a voice snapped and crackled.

Torment turned to the flame, his completely black eyes reflecting the fire, and pointed to the figure in the swirling waters. /The so called God-king./

Fire gazed into the waters, his gaze unreadable. /What did he do?/

Torment resisted the urge to snap at his father. It was difficult to keep the Elements focused. They existed in the here and now only. The past and future did not exist for them. To ask them to remember something a millennium gone was nearly impossible, a fact Torment found mildly funny, since he sibling father could not usually remember a whole conversation, but was renowned for keeping a grudge.

/The heretic, who proclaimed himself the Great Destroyer. You remember, yes?/ Destiny drew Fire's attention to the subject at hand with the sound of the spinning wheel.

/HOW DARE HE!! *I* AM THE GREAT DESTROYER! I CONSUME ALL THAT I TOUCH! SUCH INSOLENCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!/

It was an old conversation. One Torment knew well.

/Yes, my brother, and he has suffered greatly. For a thousand years I personally tortured his soul for you. For a thousand years, his screams echoed in my chambers louder than any other. And for a thousand years he refused to admit his crime./

Like dry kindling, Fire's rage quickly spent itself.

/Someone suggested a new plan,/ Fire remembered of his own accord.

/Justice felt agony could be better served if he were once again mortal, and so I sent him to Delight's temple. He was raised with the knowledge of what he once was, his sins not forgotten./

/It's stone. I cannot burn it,/ Fire commented offhandedly.

Delight giggled. /But you have tried very hard, Father, and I thank you for your blessings./

Torment returned the conversation back to it's original topic. /I have sent two of my best emissaries. It's not working. He still turns his face from us./

"You have a plan, Torment," Wisdom stated sagely.

/Ah, now I see the weave, little one. Run out of special projects? How do you keep track of your tasks? You spend half your time causing torment and the other half trying to stop it,/ Fire remarked to his child.

Torment raised his hand and gave his sibling parent a mortal symbol. They all had seen their subjects give it to them often enough to have figured out its meaning.

/How very mortal of you, Torment./ Fire hissed with glee before sobering. /Fine, my brother, do as you see fit. I will check and see if your project works out better than Justice's./

Torment nodded. The room around him melted away until he stood behind the walls of the room Kasander, the Fallen Dragon Key, stood in. He watched through the mirrored glass as Kasander raised his fists into the air and demanded for his torment to end.

Torment glanced down at the small, thin waif that clung to his side. Eyes that had seen too much pain stared back at him. He gently pulled the wasted form closer, offering it warmth and comfort.

"Will he never learn?" he asked his children as they pressed against him, seeking comfort from the anguish within.