[There Is A Voice]

"Damn you!" Erik screamed at the top of his lungs, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him tighter than any rope or chain. "Damn you to the gates of Lataarom, Slevan! What did I ever do to you?!"

The so named Slevan studied his captive appreciatively. Stripped to merely his underthings, and trussed up like a turkey with no annoying material to get in the way of his beauty. Ahh, yes. Erik Arrikanez was a sight to behold. Handsome. Thin. A little irate at the moment, but then again... so would he be in the same situation. Slevan tutted lightly at the youth's struggles, and tapped his nose.

"Now, now, Erik. There is no need to turn to harsh language." he said, voice as sly and slick as a snake. "I, humble though I am, merely feel the need to take back what was stolen from me. You see, you took something rather precious... and I desire it back." He chuckled. "Stripped of your powers, you are no more a threat to me, than a fly on the wall is a threat to the crawling cat waiting to pounce. I am not afraid of you."

He moved over, and caressed Erik's cheek lightly. "But you, my boy, seem to be VERY afraid of me." Lingering slightly over Erik's throat, he moved his hand downward to center over the boy's pounding heart. "Very afraid indeed. Wise, that."

Turning with a laugh, he didn't need to glance around to feel the glare that Erik leveled on the back of his head. "You are SICK, Slevan." The tied boy spat. "You always were. Even though you showed promise when we were children... you twisted.. corrupted.. sick... bastard!"

With a fury not unlike that of a caged animal, Erik snarled, and resumed his struggles. Blood started to run down his arms, from ropes weaved of the very magic Erik controlled. A tidy trap on the behalf of a sorcerer who matched his power. At least his known power.

"How did you ever live with yourself after that day?" Slevan said, whirling back around to face his target. "Did you even grieve for the loss? Or did you laugh, and take advantage of the absence of the one thing that stood in your way?"

Erik snarled again. "I'll answer that with a question. How did YOU escape the blast?"

A long moment passed between the two of them. A moment ending with Slevan laughing, and his eyes growing cold and bitter. "I didn't."

Even though he was sightless for the time being, Erik's eyes widened, as he tried desperately to believe that the one that had him bound was NOT the ghost of his former classmate. A belief that was slowly slipping out of his mental grasp. He choked on his words. "But you're... you're.."

"Dead?" Slevan gave a dark chuckle. "Oh yes, Erik. That precious thing you stole from me? My life. And I want it back. I'll GET it back. By taking yours."

Erik's struggled increased in intensity. Somewhere, a sinister little voice in his mind was joking that the dead never seemed to rest in peace around him. Erik told it firmly to shut up - even though he knew the voice was right. He unintentionally seemed to call the dead back from the grave wherever he went. Sometimes... with consequences. Like this.

Slevan stretched, and Erik realized for the first time that he couldn't hear Slevan breathing.. or walking. The ghost laughed. "Oh Erik.. you should see the look on your face. So priceless. Almost WORTH being murdered by you to see it."

"I didn't murder you..." Erik said, very quietly.

"What was that?" the ghost asked, moving closer.

"I. Didn't. Murder. You." his prisoner repeated. This time, very clearly. "It was an accident. Evel was the one that set the fire. Granted, I was the one that accelerated it, but I had no idea you were in the warehouse until it was too late to stop."

Slevan gave a derisive snort. "And why should I believe you? You'd say anything at this point to get out of my grasp. Truth or not. No, I think I'll disregard that, in favor of the appropriate punishment." He gave a literal cackle of glee. "I think you'll appreciate this spell, Erik. After all, this was the one you helped me perfect, remember? But you'd never let me use it on anything larger than a rat." He tapped his chin. "Well, I do believe it's time to try something a little LARGER, don't you think?"

With that, the dead sorcerer started chanting. A long and complicated spell that had been the brainchild of Erik himself. Untraceable. Only reversible by the caster. The perfect torture, that sealed the mind and body against all influence to change it. And the only thing painful enough to punish those that Erik deemed worthy of such.

Mercifully, before the actual physical changes began, his world faded to blacker than his natural blindness, agony consuming his thoughts and leaving him breathless.

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He awoke with a start. Things felt... different. He couldn't place it. He was in darkness. That was normal, but something felt... wrong. He figured out what it was the moment he tried to move. Something spindly and furry hit his side, and he recoiled, freezing in the position he was in. The furry thing did not move. Scarcely daring to breathe, he tried again, rolling away from the thing, only to find another touching his other side. He could sense no others near enough to use their sight, so he was left unaware of what was out there. What was keeping him captive.

He tried to stand. But his legs felt wrong, and he was forced to collapse again. Those furry things were back, too - nestled against his sides and belly, like some perverted creature intent on his flesh. Freezing for another few moments, he considered. Then moved with lightning speed, and wound up falling head over heels into something cool and wet. Water. He was somewhere with water. And those furry things! They were back again, this time under him, and a few to the lower portion of his abdomen. His heart started to pound. Were these things everywhere? And was that hardness at the end a claw? Now fear started to eat at him.

Whenever he moved, the furry thing moved. No matter how much he tried to get away. ... Then a sickening thought came into his head. What if those furry things.... He moved again - and this time payed attention. Those furry things... were his legs.

He screamed. Or rather, bellowed. Loud enough for every creature in this place to hear him. Then, seeing his powers were still semi-intact, he backed away, stepped into the shadow, and remained there, like a cat on the prowl. Ok, so he was a.. furry critter. But what sort of furry critter had long limbs, and hardness... hooves. Holy shit he was a deer.

The second scream echoed only in silence, and died away into quiet sobs. How was he ever going to get out of this one?