Marx opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. He was in a strange room with a rocky ceiling colored a deep, lustrous gray. There was a horrible taste in his mouth and he was wearing clothes that he had never seen before. Faint purplish light shone from a lantern hanging from the ceiling.

He sat up and looked around. He yawned, extremely confused, then froze. His teeth felt different. So different it was wrong. He felt them with his tongue. Most of his teeth were sharp, pointed even, while his canine teeth were longer and filed into what felt like fangs. Marx took a sharp intake of breath and felt one with the tip of his finger. It came away with a tiny cut that bled a single drop of dull blood.

Marx felt his breathing sped up as panic threatened to overwhelm him. The memories of last night rushed back and he flopped back into the plain bed, pulling the blanket over his head and trying to shut it all out.

It was made of bits of human skin sewn together.

Marx screamed and threw it off, scrambling off the bed. He shuddered, then vomited on the floor. He clutched his arms to his chest and scrunched his eyes shut, fighting his overwhelming nausea and horror. He stood still for a few minutes as he regained his composure, then turned so he wouldn't be facing the vomit and skinblanket, and opened his eyes.

There was a mirror in front of him. At first, he thought it was one of the corpses until it screamed and jumped backwards exactly when he did. Marx stared at it in shock for a moment, then walked closer, staring in surprise at his reflection.

His skin had gone faintly gray, especially at his fingertips and ears, and around his eyes, which glowed slightly and had dark shadows under them. His hair had been cut into a weird style and had some sort of gel in it that made little bits of it stick up, which he hated. His clothes were new and expensive looking, but had a more gothic, medieval look to them and smelled like mildew. The dark fabric was unlike anything he had ever seen before; it sort of shimmered and looked dull at the same time. It made his head hurt. He looked away from it and at the amulet around his neck. It was his mother's; the one she had always worn for as long as he could remember. He looked for any part of his strange new look that he had missed and realised he was barefoot and that there was a dark purple mark on his neck. He looked closer and saw it was in the shape of a swirl. He touched it and it felt ice cold.

Marx took a deep breath and tried to get used to his new look. He crossed his arms, deeply unsettled, and felt the thick silver band around his left wrist. There were strange words engraved in it but they were in an alphabet he couldn't read. He turned away from the mirror, feeling sick, and noticed a huge door made of black wood and strips of rusted iron. He walked over to it shakily and put his hand on the huge iron ring that served as a doorknob.

His fingers tingled slightly from the cold of the iron, but nothing jumped at him and tried to kill him so he gathered his scattered wits and opened the door, wanting to get out of the room as fast as possible. 

A bleak, empty hallway stretched out before him. A skeleton statue stood at attention just outside his door, but it was just a statue, after all, and Marx ignored it as he stepped cautiously from his room. He wandered a few feet forwards, unsure of what to do.

A creaking noise from behind startled Marx and he turned around to see the statue walking towards him with a spear in its hand. Its bones were yellowed with age and it was chipped in numerous places, but it came at him anyways. Marx yelled and stumbled backwards, stubbing his foot on a rock and cutting it. A few drops of blood dripped onto the floor, much less than Marx would have expected.

The skeleton dropped the spear and put its hands in the air. Definitely not a statue. "I'm not going to hurt you, Master Marx." It said in its echoey voice. "Do not be alarmed."

Marx's eyes went wide. "What? How? How are you talking?! You don't even have vocal cords... And what do you mean master?" The skeleton shrugged and its jaw fell off. It bent over and put it back on, the ligaments still on its skull glowing slightly and attaching themselves to the bone, anchoring it. Marx looked more closely at the skeleton but kept his distance. All its flesh, internal organs and cartilage were gone, but the ligaments were still there to hold it together.

"How do you move?" Marx asked. He had completely gotten over his initial fear of the skeleton and was now staring at it curiously.

The skeleton picked up its spear and readjusted the alignment of its jaw. It took a step towards Marx and bowed. "Forgive me, Master, but you are not to know that yet." Marx backed away a little and felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm not your master." He said slowly. The skeleton looked like it might have been surprised but Marx was having a hard time telling.

"But the Creature told me you are my master, sir," It said insistently as its voice bounced around in Marx's skull, disorienting him. "No," Marx said firmly. He hated it when anyone served him in any way.

The skeleton bowed respectfully. "I apologise, Master, but the Creature said you are my master and his word is law." It straightened up again and began ushering Marx down the hallway. "What's going on?" Marx tried to hold his ground but the skeleton carried a spear and obviously knew how to use it.

"You are to see the Creature. It will explain everything to you."

Marx fell silent and walked obediently ahead, limping a tiny bit from the cut on his heel. He was deeply worried and extremely curious as to why he was here, but he feared it had something to do with what his mother had said.