The room was sparse and held no luxuries, a fact that Jayant found comforting. He needed little besides and wanted for far less in his Requiem, content in the knowledge he does his Mother's bidding.


What is the point of this, my little Jayant?


The Mekhet strains his eyes but does not blink, staring at and through Circe. Slowly, patterns begin to fill his mind, an aura wrapping itself around the Hierophant like a comforting blanket of pale gold and silver. Jayant cocks his head as he watches the colours mingle together.


“What do you see?” she asks.


“The colours of silver and gold, pale like albino.”


Circe closes her eyes and explains what they mean. The silver takes him by surprise and as he looks to her, the aura vanishes akin to smoke in the breeze.


“You have done well. Go and practice further on those you do not know,” the Hierophant instructs. "Try to get a feeling of what the colours represent.”


Several hours later....


Jayant sits outside a club, perched out of sight in an alleyway. He simply observes those in the cue, staring intently for minutes as they wait in the neon glow of forbidden pleasures. Many of those, too many in his judgement, contained auras of deep red, and he found himself growing jealous because of it.


You wish, my little Jayant.


Growling away his inner torment, Jayant looks further down the line to where a man looks hungrily at a gathering of girls. Jayant takes him in as predator but of the sexual kind. Bright red flowed neatly with browns, forming in Jayant's mind as a bitter and angry man seeking revenge somehow.


Now, that simply will not do, he thought as he left his perch, protecting those who did not know he even existed.