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It had taken him so many years to realize what was happening. For the longest time, he’d simply feared the typical worst: that he was slowly going mad. And that there was nothing to be done about it.

That was the ever-present worry that permeated the entire servant world, after all. It seemed the most likely explanation.

And it had served Ettol well as a cover for the bastard’s growing influence within his mind.

Nor had it helped that there had already been two people in there to begin with.

But Germal was gone now. Devoured by Ettol.

Only Jonah remained.

And he knew why, too. Because, ultimately, despite all his terrifying powers, Ettol required his vessel’s permission in order to conduct his so-called “merge,” wherein their two souls would supposedly become one, new entity.

But that was only partially true, by Jonah’s estimation. Sure, the two souls would become one. But Ettol’s soul had merged with others before. It had so much more experience and influence in such things. If any part of Germal’s personality remained, Jonah couldn’t see it.

To Jonah’s mind, it was akin to a pinch of salt “merging” with an entire glass of water.

Not exactly an equal sacrifice being made.

Which was why Ettol would never gain his permission, no matter how many tricks he tried.

No matter how weakened he might feel. No matter how tired or sick or sad or whatever else--Jonah would never give in. And he wanted Ettol to know it, too. For as long as they both shared one body, he would forever remain a thorn in the bastard’s side.

Unfortunately, it seemed clear to him now that he couldn’t hope for much more than that. Even when he was in control, he found himself limited, these days. He couldn’t even utter Ettol’s name aloud. The bastard had already found a way to block it.

If only he hadn’t been so timid for so long. Maybe he shouldn’t have relied on Germal to be the aggressive one between the two of them. Only now was it clear to him how much he’d relied on his other self to take care of things for him. To do what he never could--or, rather, what he never believed that he could.

That was the real problem, wasn’t it? When things got difficult, he would always just run or hide. When dogs barked at him. When thunderstorms arrived. When his mother got that look in her eyes.

He would just leave. Let Germal deal with it.

But there was no running, now.