I was brought to Adeline’s study the next morning. She sat at her desk, barely taking notice of me.

“Grab a book and read. Your third trial is tomorrow,” she said dismissively.

I went for the huge tome she called The Book Of Ouroboros. The tome was leather bound with thick yellowed pages printed in an old typeset.

An engraving on the first page showed a slender woman standing with a sword over a caricature of a Shah. The title at the bottom read: “The Lady Is The Victor.”

I read the story of Parisa, the youngest daughter of a Persian Merchant in the late Zand Dynasty. Her father punished her as a young girl by tossing her in a fire. She spent the next 10 years waiting for a suitor, but each would learn of her disfigurement and break off the betrothal. She was 19 years of age when the oldest son of the general of the Shah’s army took her as a wife. He was a cruel man and a vicious drunk nearly twice her age. One night while he slept, she poisoned his wine. The next morning as he drank from the bottle, he began to convulse.

She was tried and found guilty of the murdering her husband and she was sentenced to death. In the dungeons, Parisa was subjected to all manners of unspeakable act by the guards before being sent to the chopping block. It was cloudy on the day of her execution. Battered and bruised, she was led to the executioner. Just as the blade made contact with her neck, a bolt of lightning struck the blade and Parisa disappeared in the flash.

The next morning, I was led to a chamber where Adeline stood at the foot of a throne. A veiled figure sat on the ornate chair and Adeline bowed before her. One by one, each member of the order filed through and knelt before the throne. I was brought to the throne and was pushed to my knees. Adeline stood over me with a sword.

“It would be better for you to run on this sword than enter this order with fear in your heart,” said and kissed the sword before presenting it to the woman on the throne.

The woman stood and revealed herself to be Pisha.

Pisha put the sword to my throat.

“In this incarnation I am Pisha Maxwell. I have also been known as Parisa Al-Fath and Lady Marie Lizet. Twice you found me when I was looking for one to stand by my side. You have shown great character and strength. It is for this reason and the connection we share that I believe you to be Azir Al-Fahad, my dead lover reborn. I live eternal, like the jellyfish you mentioned when we first met. In each lifetime I regress to a child like state only to grow again into my position as Priestess.”

She removed the sword from my throat.

“Adeline was the first of my converts,” she continued. “A transfusion of my blood and a sufficient electric shock and her body reverted as mine had so many times before. Each apprentice and neonate serves in hopes of my gift. You on the other hand simply endured the trials for a chance at another night in my presence. What say you, of my offer to break the cycle of death and rebirth as I offer you my gift?”

Now, I don’t know what exactly went through my mind before I said this, but there was a deep feeling of betrayal as she revealed this to me. I fell for a woman who didn’t exist. Pisha the apprentice was a lie. I looked up in defiance.

“Pisha the apprentice held my love and devotion. I do not know the woman in front of me.”

The sword returned to my throat.

“You fought for a vulnerable young girl, and thus you are worthy of a queen. Why do you seem so distraught at this revelation?”

I cleared my throat and put a finger to the blade to push it away. Standing up, I turned my back to her and started pacing.

“I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but I made myself vulnerable to you. I gave myself to you. But I didn’t. I gave myself to a lie. And now you’re talking about immortality and conversions. Fuck that. I hated being a kid. All this time you’ve been saying I’m free to leave at anytime. Well, I’m out. If I ever see Pisha the Apprentice again I’ll give her my love, but this is ten kinds of bullshit.”

Pisha shrieked and two men grabbed my shoulders and dragged me to an antechamber of the main hall where I was strapped to a chair. All manner of tubes and needles were inserted into my arms and chest. I struggled as best I could, but it was to no avail. Two pads were brought towards my face and past my field of vision to my temples. I passed out.

I woke in my own bed. I don’t even remember flying back. I called the Human Resources office to inform them I was back from my extended vacation and asked if my position was still available. It was.

Over the next few weeks, I fell back into the routine of working nights listening to calls and spending my down time searching the internet. Only now instead of searching for clues of otherworldly origin I became obsessed with The Temple of Ouroboros.

Few weeks of research returned very little — if any — results. It was only when discussing my experiences in a deep web chat room for paranormal discussion someone sent me a private message.

“I knew you were a scrub. You couldn’t of been worthy of the gift,” the message read.

“You’re that smug asshole that kicked out aren’t you?” I replied back.

“The name is Kenneth,” he messaged.

“Actually, I refused the gift and after a scene from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest with electric shock and all manner of needles I woke at home in my bed.”

“Bullshit, there’s no way she gave you the gift. Pisha was my beloved, how could you have been worthy. I was supposed to be the reincarnation of Azir Al-Fahad.”

“Yeah, she sold me that line too. I’ve been considering going to the doctor and getting some tests done to see what they shot me up with. I’ve had a wicked headache since I’ve been back and I can’t seem to sleep comfortably.”

Kenneth sent me one last message.

“It’s not fair. Why do you get to live forever?”

I got an email from Pisha216@hell(dot)com last night. It simply read:

“Should you ever change your mind, your place is by my side.”

I added the address to my block list. It’s been a crazy past few months. I met the most amazing girl only to find out she was some insane cult leader. I had the most amazingly intimate night of my life and then endured the kind of torture that leaves men broken and rambling.

All-in-all, I’d say it evened out.

The major improvement in my life as a result of this is that I haven’t felt the urge to cut myself since I’ve been back. In fact, I feel more alive that I have before. I remember reading somewhere about people surviving tragedies and seizing life by the horns afterward. I like to think that’s what’s going on here. Heck, prior to this whole ordeal I was starting to get laugh lines on my face and gray hairs in my beard, but both are gone. All the stress in my old life seems meaningless when looking back at those damned trials.

The only thing that has me concerned lately is the how thirsty I get sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve lost nearly 10 pounds and my skin is tightening up wonderfully, but sometimes I’ll drink a gallon of water at a time and still feel thirsty. I talked to my doctor about it and he told me to take it easy on the hydration and gave me a pill that makes it a little more tolerable. I’ll miss the Pisha I fell for and curse the one who tricked me. Maybe one day I’ll decide to look her crazy ass up.

Until then, I feel great. It’s like I’m getting younger every day.