[ WP ] You are still `` it '' in a game of tag from childhood . Many years have passed and you are determined to tag the others .

[ [ Went a little off-kilter here. ] ] 
 
 I fell back into my throne. The wretched thing, carved from an unbroken piece of basalt, was a seat of obligation, not comfort. It made my back ache and my neck stiff. Before me were my servants, all in even-numbered lines girdling the central walkway from the wrought iron doors at the far end to my seat. 
 
 I turned to look at my hand. For 40 years it had been creeping steadily up to my shoulder, a latticework of black and violet veins, pulsating with some substance unknown to myself or my physicians. Any attempts to insert a probing needle in were met with violent resistance from my arm, wholly of its own accord lashing out and striking anyone within reach. We gave up, allowing it to spread and monitoring it as best we could. Despite its horrible appearance, it had, after all, given me access to the dark sorcery that won me my kingdom. But now, the hand had mortified, becoming nearly useless. It pained me greatly every day to the point of being sedated nearly every waking moment. I feared for my life as it inched closer and closer to my chest, and my heart. 
 
 `` Bring him in.'' I called out to the room, my voice returning to me tenfold in that spacious chamber. 
 
 With a groan like a wounded giant, the iron doors were heaved open by several servants on each side. Just beyond, a man of middling age, bound and gagged, was dragged forth. It was a long, ponderous moment that stretched, as the only sound in the chamber were the scrape, scrape, scraping of the man's feet being dragged across the ground. 
 
 At last, he was thrown to his knees at the foot of my throne. I was finally able to see the details of his face. I mused at the effects of time on mortal men. How I could see within that unshaven, weather-beaten face, the features of the boy I had known in my childhood. It was all there, just as I had always remembered it: round cheeks, ginger mop of hair, thin lips; I knew it to be him. 
 
 `` Friend,'' I said amiably, `` please, stand. Guards, unbind him. He's my guest for God's sake.'' 
 
 At my command, two guards rushed forward and cut away his bonds and undid the cloth that stifled his voice. Immediately the man gained a semblance of strength and spat: `` Who are you to call me friend, King of the Night? Black Psychopomp?'' And finally, with added vitriol, `` God-slayer?'' 
 
 I tried hard to keep my expression plain, but I could not suppress it all. My lips belied a smile at the last pseudonym, `` Is that what they're calling me now? God-slayer? Did you truly have that much reverence for that paltry lake spirit?'' I stood with a groan, then, with almost as much discomfort as I experienced in sitting down, `` I have done everything I can for this kingdom. I have united the surrounding lords under one banner and banished the Otherworlders that think themselves our betters. I have stamped out war like a cockroach and in its place given civility and the comfort of a predictable existance. But do you know what? I actually owe this all to you.'' 
 
 The man's eyes narrowed, `` You've used your sorcerery to alienate our allies in Faerie and butcher the flesh-forms of the spirits who gave us joy and prosperity in exchange for a pittance of our respect and time. You're a demon in man's flesh, I am a farmer; how could I have done anything to put you on this path?'' 
 
 I began walking down the carpeted stone steps toward him, and held out my blight of an arm for him to see, `` All of my might, all of my mastery of the dark arts comes from this curse. It is an immeasurable bastion of power, but it takes its toll on my body, you see.'' I reached him, squatted in front of him, and rocked back to sit on the step closest to him, so we could be eye to eye. `` You gave me this curse. You passed it to me. It was never meant to be held onto this long, but you deserted me, and so I was stranded with it. Do n't you remember, Andy?'' 
 
 The man sputtered, `` My name is Andreus, you foo -- wait,'' his eyes widened and he leaned in closer to me, scrutinizing my features. I could see the connections being made before my very eyes, and I delighted in his slow revelation. `` You're...'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' I hissed, `` say it.'' 
 
 `` Kaias? Is that you?'' He asked slowly, bewilderment thickening his words. 
 
 I nodded, `` It's me, Andy.'' 
 
 `` What... what happened to you?'' 
 
 `` I told you,'' I answered simply, `` you did. And now I've brought you here to repay the favor. I've had enough. I want out. So to you, I return this curse.'' 
 
 Andreus stammered, `` What the devil are you talking about, Kaias?'' 
 
 I reached out my blackened hand and it began to pulse violently, my skin visibly roiled like a stew pot, and moving forward felt as if I were trying to shove through molasses. My body seemed to be revolting against me, but I steeled myself and pushed through. With my trembling hand only inches from his chest, I said `` Tag, you're it.'' and shoved him hard enough to topple him. 
 
 Relief washed over me. Almost instantly I felt alive again. The magic that had once filled me drained away and left me feeling as light as air. The black corruption leeched out of my arm and out into the aether. 
 
 Elated and free of burden, I stood and removed the crown from my head, tossing it flippantly in the direction of Andreus, who writhed on the stone, screaming and clasping his swiftly blackening hand. Without looking back to the stunned audience, I called out `` No tag backs.'' and walked out the door. 

