The therapist playbook

SCHEMES OF DARKNESS

In a realm that existed beyond the borders of reality, Léah-par stood on the edge of an immense stone balcony, the wind whipping around him like a feral creature. His silhouette was dark and imposing, obscuring any identifiable features except for the faint glow of his eyes, which flickered with malice. Below him lay the remnants of a decaying landscape, as if the very life had been sucked out of it—an endless stretch of barren, craggy earth marred by deep scars of corruption.

Behind him, in the shadowed room, Tei paced angrily, her steps sharp and agitated as she crossed the cold floor.

“How much longer will you let them run free?” she spat, her voice laced with frustration. “Raphael and Jasper—they're still out there. Why haven’t you dealt with them already? We’ve captured the rest of the seers. Why hold back now?”

Léah-par didn’t turn to face her, his back remaining still, as if her words were of no consequence to him. The tension in the room grew as Tei continued to rant, her irritation swelling with each passing second. She came to a halt, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

“Are you afraid of them?” Tei taunted. “Or do you simply enjoy the game? Watching them squirm, waiting for the inevitable, knowing you could end this anytime you wanted?”

Still, Léah-par remained silent, his figure unmoved. Tei’s patience snapped. She crossed the room in long strides, her anger palpable as she stopped just behind him.

“Answer me, Léah-par!” she hissed, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You talk about control, about power, but here you are, letting two seers wander freely while the rest rot under your control. How long will you hesitate?”

Suddenly, Léah-par moved. With a speed that defied her senses, his hand shot out, grasping her by the neck. Tei gasped, her rant cut off abruptly as his fingers tightened around her throat. Her body froze in shock as he pulled her closer, her feet barely touching the floor. His other hand rose slowly, and with deliberate, cruel tenderness, he ran his fingers along her collarbone, down to the edge of her chest, stroking her skin as if mocking her anger.

Tei gasped softly, a mixture of fear and anxiety as his fingers danced across her cleavage. Her breath hitched in her throat, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed at her to fight back. She could feel the raw power emanating from him, the darkness that seeped into his every touch, and she hated it—hated how it made her feel.

And then, with brutal force, Léah-par’s grip on her neck tightened, cutting off her air. Tei’s hands flew to his arm, struggling in vain to loosen his grasp, her eyes wide with both fear and pain. Her gasps turned to soft, desperate moans as she fought to breathe, but Léah-par was unmoved. He leaned down, his glowing eyes locking onto hers, his voice low and dangerous.

“Never forget who you serve,” he whispered, his voice a chilling rasp. “I could end you with a thought.”

As if to prove his point, he tightened his grip even further, and Tei’s body convulsed as she struggled for air. Just when she thought she might pass out, Léah-par released her, throwing her across the room with a flick of his wrist. Tei landed hard against the stone floor, gasping for breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

For a moment, the room was silent except for her ragged breathing. Slowly, Tei rose to her feet, her body trembling from the aftershock. Yet despite the violence, there was no anger in her eyes—only cold calculation. She dusted herself off and faced him, her voice steadier than her body.

“You need me,” she said, her words sharp and cutting. “I’m not just anyone. I’m a Dreamer. My abilities are unique, and you know it.”

Léah-par turned to face her now, his glowing eyes narrowing as he considered her words. Tei straightened, a small, victorious smile playing on her lips. She had survived the encounter, and she knew her value.

“You won’t dispose of me,” she continued, her voice filled with certainty. “You need me for what comes next.”

A slow, menacing grin spread across Léah-par’s face. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone indifferent. “But you are still expendable.”

Tei didn’t flinch at the threat. She knew her worth, and more importantly, she knew Léah-par’s goals. Without her, he couldn’t fully achieve them. Still, she remained cautious, aware that his patience had limits.

Without another word, Léah-par turned away from her, his eyes focusing on the figure in the corner of the room—Isaac. Isaac was one of the seers they had captured, and he now knelt, trembling and blindfolded, in front of Léah-par. A cruel smile curved Léah-par’s lips as he approached the man.

“You’ve outlived your usefulness, Isaac,” he said softly, almost as if he were comforting a child. Then, without hesitation, Léah-par extended his hand toward Isaac’s face. His fingers dug into the soft flesh around Isaac’s eyes, and with a sharp, brutal motion, he ripped them out.

Isaac screamed, the sound piercing the air as blood poured down his face. But Léah-par didn’t flinch. He held the bloody orbs in his hand, admiring them for a moment before turning to face the shadows.

“Zephyr,” he called, his voice commanding. “Come forth.”

From the darkness, a man emerged. Zephyr was enormous, his body large and muscular, towering over even Léah-par. His eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion, and his presence exuded raw power. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the bleeding, broken body of Isaac.

Léah-par held out his eyes. “I need the gift of the seer.”

Zephyr stepped forward, his massive hand closing around the eyes. He inspected them for a moment, then turned to Léah-par.

“The transfer will be complete,” Zephyr said in a voice that was both deep and emotionless.

Léah-par nodded, satisfied. “Good. Make sure it’s done properly. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

As Zephyr began the process, Léah-par’s thoughts wandered back to the day they had first met. It had been a brutal encounter, one that had cemented Zepher’s place at Léah-par’s side. He remembered how it had all begun...

Léah-par had travelled far to find Zephyr’s tribe. The harvesters were legendary, known for their ability to train those with gifts and, in darker times, to transfer those gifts from one wielder to another. It was a practice long forbidden, a power so dangerous that entire civilizations had been destroyed in the pursuit of it. But Léah-par cared little for ancient rules. He wanted power, and the harvesters held the key.

When he arrived at the tribe’s village, the elders had refused him.

“We do not practise the old ways,” they had said. “We will not help you.”

Léah-par had given them a choice: obey him or die. When they still refused, he had slaughtered them all—every last one of them, men, women, and children. The blood of the harvesters had stained his hands, but he had felt nothing.

In the midst of the m******e, however, Zephyr had come to him. Unlike the others, Zephyr had not fought. He had approached Léah-par with calmness, almost as if he had been expecting him.

“I will give you what you want,” Zephyr had said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Léah-par had paused, intrigued. “Why?”

Zepher’s eyes had been cold, calculating. “Because I want you to slaughter them all. Every last one. I have no use for them.”

Léah-par had been shocked. “You want me to kill your own people?”

“Yes,” Zephyr had replied simply. “They are weak. They cling to old rules that no longer matter. I seek power, just as you do. And with their deaths, I will be free to pursue it.”

Léah-par had taken Zephyr on that day, fascinated by the darkness that dwelled within him. He had found a kindred spirit in the harvester, a man who, like him, sought power at any cost.

As the memory faded, Léah-par watched Zephyr complete the transfer. The glow in Zepher’s hands intensified as the gift of Isaac’s foresight moved into a new vessel—a crystal, dark and gleaming with power.

Zephyr looked up, his face expressionless. “It is done.”

Léah-par smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now we move forward.”

Behind him, Tei watched silently, her body still aching from their earlier encounter. She knew better than to speak now, but her mind raced. The game was far from over.