"In a world filled with beasts ranging from the burliest dragons to the amalgam monsters, chimeras, there is one abomination more vile and cruel than any, one despicable race who's capacity for filth and ferocity knows no bounds, man." Mr. Cyrus said reading from his tome, "can anyone tell me what you think that means?"
A boy to my right raised his hand.
"Samuel, what do you think?" Mr. Cyrus asked
"It's exactly what it says. People are eviler than anything else in the world. It's because of our intelligence sir, we don't have flaming breath or fierce claws, but we have our bows, with them a single man might kill ten chimeras before they could close to him." The boy explained.
"Well, he'd certainly have to be a better shot than you." Mr. Cyrus jested. "Anyone else?"
I raised my hand
"Raven, your interpretation please."
"It's about self-hate sir-"
"You know a lot about that dontcha." a kid blurt out cutting me off.
Some of the other students laughed, but Mr. Cyrus kept his calm demeanor as always.
"You will know a lot about it too if you make another comment like that in my classroom Marshall." He said with just a tad bit less seriousness than I thought appropriate, but I continued.
"The work was written in the Dark ages, just after Kothraxis the terrible was sealed away. The author was talking about how men during that time period were cruel to others because that was all they had ever known under his reign. He hated his own race for the crimes they committed of their own free will after people had worked so hard to give it to them." I finished.
Mr. Cyrus spoke up "Good job on recognizing the time period, but you made the mistake of assuming the author was human. He was actually an elf. This is the first sentence of his novel on slavery and how elves endured it for years. This is the introduction of a new era of literature as elves adapt their tales from word of mouth to the human written word."
"Sir I thought that elves who were enslaved couldn't read" One kid blurted out.
"Neither could you until someone taught you." Mr. Cyrus said," but that is a generalization we will dispel in history next week. Speaking of other classes this one is nearly over. You may pack your things."
The class erupted as everyone stood up their things already long since gathered and made a break for the door. Before I could leave however Mr. Cyrus called me to the front.
"Raven, I'd like to speak with you please."
"Great." I thought. I thought that a lot actually as I was often being called up for things for no reason at all.
"What is it sir," I asked politely.
"What Marshall said earlier. If anyone else tells you something like that you tell me. I know that you aren't the most well-liked person in the school, but even joking about self-hatred is unacceptable."
"Thank you, Mr. Cyrus," I told him, "I have to go Mr. Cyrus I need to get to Archery."
What I didn't tell him was that the names of everyone else who said things like that. He might be able to punish one, but he would not be able to punish everyone in the school so it didn't matter. I waited to see if he would stop me again, but he didn't so I headed out of the classroom. The sun shone brightly through the canopy of the tree the school sat in a few dozen students were making their way down the winding paths of branches and down the staircase carved into the ancient oak. Everyone was making their way to the firing range. I never understood why the school had an archery class, everyone here was born with the ability to shoot. From the moment kids could hold a bow they could hit a jackalope from 30 yards away. Well everyone except me; I was incorrigible. It seemed the only thing anyone did in this class was show off. They would have other kids through targets into the air or shoot an arrow through a ring at incredible distances. No one would volunteer to be anywhere near the target had I been the one with a bow in my hands.
"How about a challenge." One boy said. " You and I see who can hit the target from a further distance."
It was Malcolm. Everyone knew he was the best archer in the school. Even the teachers couldn't beat him. He was challenging Samuel who was the only kid in school I could even begin to compare to. He had no chance, but he accepted it anyway.
"Hey shit shot, how bout you hold the target for us." He said to me.
People had stopped challenging me to their stupid contests because they knew I didn't care. I would always lose. Yet they still figured out away to pick on me, making me hold the target while they shot at it, occasionally letting an arrow fly near me. I had to stand perfectly still in fear that one might aim to scare me and by flinching I might move in the way. I could not, of course, decline the offer, if I wasn't good at hitting a target, and I wasn't good at being a target what use would they have for me.
I didn't say a word and I just took the target in my hands and started walking down range.
"Further you idiot. This is supposed to be a challenge; we are already warmed up." Malcolm called from behind me.
I hadn't planned on stopping there, but half of me wanted to just to spite him. I kept walking every ten yards were marked. I made it to 50 before I stopped and held the target above me.
"You go first Sammy," Malcolm said. " Don't miss."
I, of course, was still holding the target. I like to imagine that in some places there are actual target stands, but here I was of holding the bullseye.
Marshall knocked his first arrow and launched it. Half a moment later it thunked into the painted wood. He hit in the second ring. He knocked his next arrow and let it loose another thunk. This time it hit in the furthest out ring. He loosed his final shot. Thwap. The arrow hit the soggy ground a few yards behind me.
"Better luck next turn huh," Malcolm said
"Yea whatever," Samuel said.
"Hey, shit shot. Give me another 20 yards." The sharpshooter called.
I wasn't comfortable any further than 50, but I walked anyway. Most people here lost their accuracy at about 60 yards I doubted Malcolm could even make the arrow fly a full 70. I was wrong. The first arrow hit the bullseye, as did the second. Then he knocked the third. For some reason, I had a horrible feeling deep in my gut when he knocked that last arrow. I almost screamed wait, as if delaying it would help. He loosed the arrow and a gust of wind blew from behind me. At this range, that tiny breeze might as well be a tornado pushing the arrow low. I didn't have time to think or react. Chink! I opened my eyes without realizing I had closed them. In front of me was an arrow only inches from my face lodged into a slowly deteriorating purple energy field. I had done it again, I used magic in front of everyone.
The magic barrier finished dissolving and the arrow fell to the ground. I dropped the target and dropped to the ground. Had I not conjured that field I would have been dead, but showing magic in front of my classmates I might as well have been. I knew I was a freak, and so did they, I just gave them something new to talk about.
The rest of the school day was surprisingly calm. No one mentioned the magic, Malcolm hadn't even said he was sorry for nearly killing me, he always was a bit of a jerk but he should be happy I stopped the arrow in time. It wasn't until I got home that the day picked up again. Here in town, everyone had their own home, and I mean everyone. Husband and wife, mother and child they all lived in a separate house. People just went to the next house when they wanted to visit someone. It worked well, the houses were little more than bedrooms and bathrooms anyway; the town was communal so dining and any other activities were carried out in the lunch commons ground. To my surprise, I found a package behind my door when I walked in. I couldn't imagine anyone who cared enough to send me one, nor why it would be here instead of the post center, but I opened it anyway,
"Dear Raven,
I have heard about the recent event regarding your magic. While I should remind you that magic use is discouraged here, you will not be punished for this instance based on the circumstances. I know that it is difficult to control your powers, but I am making the arrangements for you to move to Iskara. There is a school there that accepts magic and can help you perfect it. See me tomorrow for details.
signed Danniel Cyrus."
The package was however far from empty. Inside were long purple drape like robes. They were dark blue and tinged with purple trims. A departing gift I imagined.
I had mixed feelings immediately. Mr. Cyrus had no doubt been the reason she wasn't getting punished, but his proposal seemed like a punishment of its own. It was so sudden, I was going to have to leave everything behind. Soon, however, the prospect grew appealing. There was only one person in the whole town who gave a damn about me anyway. I had only one reason to stay and he was the one telling me to go. I packed what little I had that night into a small bag, a few sets of clothes were all I needed and for the most part all I had to take with me. I went to sleep with an eagerness for the next day.
Fingers of sunlight danced across my floor as I awoke. Another gust of wind shaking the branches of my tree house. It was quite strange for the wind to blow here in Dralpine village. Usually, the air was stagnant, it was good for archery because the arrows wouldn't drift as they did yesterday. It was so rare here that many considered it an omen. I, on the other hand, enjoyed it. When I walked out my door I felt the wind at my heels as if it threatened to carry me away, away to the distant land of Iskara. The school was held as usual although archery was canceled on account of the alarming amount of wind. Mr. Cyrus said it was just a storm passing through and that everything would be fine in a day or so. At the end of class, I approached him.
"I got your letter. About Iskara, when can I go?" I asked.
"A bit eager are you? I expected as much. I sent a harpy ahead of us to let them know we're coming, and I have arranged for Mr. Arryn to teach my class while I'm away."
"Wait while you're away? You're coming too?" I asked surprised.
"Iskara is a few days away and this world is far more dangerous outside curry boundaries. I am going to make sure you're safe," he explained.
It was, of course, good he was coming otherwise I'd have probably died within a mile from town. I had no skill with a bow, and my magic was underdeveloped, but I with Mr. Cyrus with me nothing would do me harm. It was well known Mr. Cyrus was one of the heroes who had helped defeat Kothraxis and had, in turn, gained immortality and a huge reputation. I doubted anything would come near us with him nearby.
The rest of the conversation was simply small talk I had my bags packed and ready and Mr. Cyrus had a substitute ready we decided to head out at first light tomorrow. When I headed home I noticed it was much darker than normal. I told myself it was just the storm and went inside quickly. I set aside the set of robes Mr. Cyrus had given me and set off to sleep.
Another morning passed with wind whirling through the village. It seemed to howl as it passed through the tangled branches of the forest. I woke up early to the sound of knocking at my door.
"Raven, are you awake? You need to get ready for the trip."
It was Mr. Cyrus.
"Just a minute" I called scrambling out of bed. I threw on the robes he had left me then opened the door.
"Good morning Raven, I trust you slept well." he said.
I had been sleeping well before he woke me, but I didn't say anything. I was glad to be awake.
"I did sir. " was all I managed.
He laughed knowing the truth of it, I imagine he felt the same way at the time.
"Well, I'll give you a few minutes to get ready. The sun will be up in half an hour. We'll be gone before the rest of the village wakes. Meet me by the elder oak when you are ready. The elder oak was the oldest tree in the forest, a sprawling mess of purple tinted wood covered in black leaves. It wasn't really an oak tree but no one knew what kind it really was and the name sounded nice.
I set to work making myself look presentable, a luxury I wouldn't be able to enjoy on the road. I took a look in the mirror. In front of me stood a pale skinned girl with a thin frame. Her bright green eyes seemed to glow as their color clashed with her skin. Her long dark hair stood in a tangled mess atop her head and hints of dreariness showed through her lethargic movements. I hadn't expected Mr. Cyrus so early it was embarrassing to know I had answered the door with my hair tangled as such. So I spent the last few minutes in my home brushing my obsidian black hair behind me letting it fall down to my shoulder blades. When I was satisfied with the figure staring back at me I grabbed my bag and headed out the door.
Mr. Cyrus was waiting at the elder oak a bag of his own packed for the journey and his bow and quiver tucked behind his back. While I wore deep blue robes he instead wore a brilliant green jerkin and a pair of brown tight leggings. His arms and legs were braced with thin leather pads, not enough to stop a great sword but enough that it could protect him from grazes. While I was still getting comfortable in my robes he looked as though he was more suited for his current attire than anything else I had ever seen him wear.
"Are you ready?" He asked me as I approached.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
Just like that we left; we headed from the elder oak straight through the outskirts of town and onto the main road. I didn't so much as turn to say goodbye to the village, yet I thoroughly expected I would probably never return. The prospect didn't bother me as much perhaps as it should have. I will spare you the details of our travels, for the most part, it was sleeping on the cold hard ground or waiting in camp while Cyrus hunted. He insisted I drop the Mr. but still agreed to answer to his last name. Other than that it was walking and talking. It was quite the exhausting trip which lasted nearly a week and a half, but finally, we reached our destination.
"This is it. Come on inside I will help you register." Cyrus explained.
We stepped into this giant blue temple. It looked newer than any building I had lain my eyes on, yet somehow it felt ancient as if the building might have existed before the world itself. The front room appeared to be a reception room. What I mistook at first for a statue was actually our host. A skeleton sat in the chair eyes filling with two soft flame like orbs who began moving and talking just like any human might.
"Hello Danniel, long time no see." The animated skeleton said. "I can only imagine how much you have missed me."
Suddenly Cyrus's expression changed. Rather than his calm demeanor that he always seemed to wear his face shifted into a slight frown.
"I brought our tribute. Take her and be done with it," he said.
"Tribute? What Tribute?" I asked. The skeleton was the first to laugh.
"You still pull wool over the eyes of your people Danniel, try to convince them that the world is some happy place?" the skeleton asked, then before waiting for his response he asked another question to me. "Tell me, girl, where do you think you are?"
"I am at the magic school in- in Iskara," I said and I had believed it at the time, but my belief was quickly challenged.
"A magic school really. I thought your town specialized in Archery, " He said, then back to me "You are in no school, you are in a place of worship. Welcome to the Temple of Kothraxis.
"You have your tribute. Am I free to go?" Cyrus asked. " You know I don't stay for the ritual."
The skeleton dismissed him. "You are free to leave."
"Wait. Mr. Cyrus, what's going on, why did you bring me here? " I cried.
He didn't so much as look back to me before he walked out the door and it sealed behind him. I felt lost and sick. I was miles away from where I should have been in a temple devoted to the Demon that once controlled our world and I was supposed to be some sort of tribute. I was on the verge of a panic attack when the Skeleton spoke up again.
"So, I imagine you must be thoroughly confused. Danniel always insists on hiding the truth from his offerings. Every year one of the four great towns offers one person to Lord Kothraxis in exchange for his peace on the land, this year you are that offering."
"I don't understand. Kothraxis was sealed away centuries ago." I pleaded trying to convince myself more than him.
"The only thing binding Kothraxis is his word. All those centuries ago, when your heroes tried to defeat him they failed, quite tragically in fact. Yet the four of them had earned his respect through their combat and decided he would indulge them with some reward. The end result was a deal, one that has stood since, that Kothraxis would remove his influence from our lands and limit his reign to the corrupted plains beyond. In exchange every year one individual must be sacrificed to him as a sign of the contract's renewal. To ensure that his promise would be carried out the young sorceress of the groups Serenity requested that they are granted immortality so as to be absolutely sure that the sacrifice is made."
"So, I have to die," I asked in fear.
"You will, yes, but Mr. Cyrus was kind enough to bring you nearly three months before the sacrifice is due. Until then you will be permitted to live in His temple." The skeleton explained, so calm when speaking of death, perhaps for good reason.
I wondered if I would become like him after.
"What will happen to me, uh- afterward?" I asked.
"Your soul will be delivered to Kothraxis instead of the next world. He will do with it what he pleases."
"and my body?" I asked
"Your body will be buried. Kothraxis has no need of it." The skeleton explained.
"What about you, how did you, well come to be?" I asked, looking back on it I am not sure if I was more curious or fearful at the time.
"I was a human like you, then I died. My friend was an accomplished sorcerer. He brought me here in hopes that he could find a way to bring me back. He succeeded in bringing my soul back to my body, but my body was still dead and decaying. Eventually, all that was left of me was bones, but I could still function just the same as anyone else. He since became the world's finest necromancer and forgot about me entirely choosing instead to go into the corruption and build his own kingdom there."
I had many more questions but before I could ask another he stood up and walked down from his podium.
"Come with me, I will show you where you will be staying."
We walked through a huge set of doors in the back of the room. Every brick in the building was a midnight blue and not a single one showed a hint of wear. The corridor we walked through came to an end in a large square room. Instead of walls, there were staircases and corridors seemingly lining every inch of the room. Some staircases went up to a higher floor while others sank into the ground carrying people into the dark depths below the surface.
The skeleton showed me to my room. Quite a tiny place in a temple so huge, but about the same size as my old home had been. We had small talk along the way where he apologized for what was happening to me but insisted that it was necessary and he even told me his old name, Jackson. He is actually quite the nice fellow despite the circumstances if a bit blunt. When I was finally alone, I didn't know what I should do. It is quite a strange thing, knowing when you are going to die. It sort of takes the point out of anything, all your dreams all your aspirations, they reduce to nothing because you know that you can't reach them. If I tried to do anything what good would it be for, my only immediate thought was to escape, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. The strange feeling, I had in this place was the constant field of energy that surrounded it. This place was made to keep me inside, and I doubt that Jackson could let me leave even if he wanted to. Within the next two days, I had settled into a bland daily ritual. I ate the three meals Jackson provided daily. I slept near twelve hours, and I sat in my room wondering about everything I could be doing if I wasn't there. Jackson noticed. He seemed determined to make my death row as comfortable as possible. He started to stay after bringing me meals and talk to me. He asked me about what I liked to do and told me more about his past and the other "great acts" of our "heroes" to try and convince me their actions here were of Necessity, not complacency. Two weeks into my stay, I started to search the library. I hadn't been searching for information, but entertainment. I had nothing better to do. As it turns out ancient temples dedicated to Demon Lords don't have much of the way of casual reading material. I ended up reading through ancient tomes. You'd be surprised how fast you can get through a book when you have nothing better to do. Anyway, I eventually found a tome on Necromancy, in fact, an entire collection of them. I took them to my room for fresh reading material.
Jackson noticed my fresh collection of books when he brought dinner that day. He seemed somewhat sullen when he saw them.
"I see you found my friends books." he said. "the spells in there are what turned me into this. " he gestured at his body devoid of flesh.
"Do you miss him?" I asked detecting his glum nature despite revealing facial features.
" I miss the man he was.I know you don't have much time left, but I urge you not to dabble in those dark arts. They change a person. Make them shells of their former selves. Both to the subject and the caster."
He didn't stay that day claiming he had business to attend to. I doubt it was true. He was right, though.
Those books were a turning point for me. I didn't heed Jackson's warning. Instead, I began reading what were less like textbook and more like a journal. Inside were careful descriptions of several meticulous experiments in bringing entities back from the dead. The contents were disturbing yet intriguing. It included every ingredient and every process necessary to perform successful resurrection. The final account in the first book was simply titled human experimentation. Reading the book described in detail Jackson's recreation, and the book actually contained several notes directed towards Jackson himself about the trials the author had gone through to make this work and his intentions. I wondered if Jackson had ever read the journal. The end of this experiment was simply the words "IT WORKED!" scrawled out quickly into the pages. While this book took only a few hours to read the next two were significantly more information packed. Whereas the first spoke from experimentation and theory these two spoke from experience and gave notations of specific ways of bringing things back to life. Some with souls, some shells of their former being, you could even place a soul into someone else's body. It was in these countless pages that I regained purpose. I had the plan to get out but it was simply a matter of how much time I had to enact it. I had spent just over two weeks here when I realized my way out. That gave me two months to learn, set up, and enact all without Jackson's knowledge.
Two months passed by quickly. By now I had avidly read and reread the volume of books on Necromancy, all of which written by Jackson's friend, Robert Lich. I had raided the supply rooms for the supplies I needed, it's amazing how many alchemy components you can find in the basement of a demon temple.
The time came quicker than expected. It was the eve before I would be sacrificed. My plan was set but I could only have a single shot at it. Soon enough Jackson came to my room.
"I am afraid it is time," he said, " if you have any last words I will hear them now. You are expected to be silent during the ceremony."
What a stupid expectation that was, but I didn't have any last words because I had no intention of them being my last.
I was led to the top floor wherein I saw the first people other than Jackson in three months. Four figures dressed in instantly recognizable uniforms. One wore a huge shining suit of armor covered in plating from head to toe, he was Tordak the great knight. The next was garbed in a deep crimson cloak with a golden dragon snaking around her. She was Serenity the Sorceress. The third wore a simple white robe sparsely decorated in gold, Isaiah the Cleric. Finally the fourth wore a familiar green jerkin with leather accessories. Danniel Cyrus the Archer. These were of course not the real “Heroes”, but rather four ritual cultists who stood in their place when the real ones were too busy or too cowardly to show. I favored the latter.
Just as promised the ceremony was completely silent. Jackson led me to the Alter and quickly retreated from the room. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen, I didn’t blame him. The other four lifted me onto the pedestal. There was a moment of stillness after that. Each of the four had their heads down as if saying a silent prayer. Then suddenly as quick as a blink there was a dagger in my chest.
I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it. It doesn’t feel like you would expect it to, that horrible shocking pain isn’t there, but instead there is what feels like a bruise with a little tingling as a pool of blood spreads further from your wound across your skin. In the time it took for me to notice that my heart had stopped beating three more daggers were lodged into my chest and abdomen. One from each of the four cultists beside me. The pain of the daggers was nothing to me, though. In the moments that my heart stopped beating, I made a discovery. Ever since we are born our hearts are beating. We end up just getting used to it only noticing its fluctuations after intense activity or fear, where its incessant pulsing reminds you that you are alive. As it turns out the opposite is true. When your heart stops there is a void in you. Something unnatural that you just can’t describe. You know that you are dead, you are just on the verge of life waiting for it to be extinguished. The four cultists around me began making some strange motions, I don’t really know what they looked like I was to focused on my non-beating heart and blood pooling lungs, but I began to float above the pedestal, and then I blacked out. I was dead.”
“Bullshit,” my captive said, having apparently worked the makeshift gag out of his mouth a long time ago yet resisting the urge to speak until now. To be completely honest I had near forgotten he was there I was so caught up in my story.
“When you first started talking I was expecting a sob story, then you got interesting, and now I know its all a lie. What a waste.” He said. I considered putting the gag back in to shut him up but figured we might as well make some idle conversation.
“What makes you think that my story is a lie?” I asked relaxing backward behind the campfire.
“You said you died. You kidnapped me, ergo you’re obviously not dead, ergo you’re a liar.” He said victoriously.
“You weren’t paying very much attention,” I commented
“What do you mean I wasn’t paying attention? I am tied to a log, in the middle of a forest with literally nothing to focus on except you. You can’t die and still be here.”
“I had a plan remember. Now shut up and let me get back to the story or I’ll put that gag back where it belongs.
“I could call for help you know.” He said
“You haven’t thus far,” I replied, and before he could say anything else I resumed my story.
“So as you know, I was dead. During that period, I have no recollection whatsoever, but my plan was still in motion. There was a reason I grew so interested in Necromancy. It is possible to bring yourself back from the dead with proper preparations, and I just so happened to have them. At midnight that night I woke up in a cramped little coffin. Much as Jackson’s body was still dead when he was brought back, mine was still the same just reanimated. I was an animated corpse with a soul for a time. One that needs not fear death, but could not truly enjoy the world of the living. I dug my way out of that coffin, a much harder task than you may think to trust me, and broke the surface. I was not out of danger, though. The cultists believed me dead but had they seen me they would surely discover the truth. The deal was someone had to die for Kothraxis, but it was merely implied that their soul must go to him. I had infused my soul into my coffin beforehand so that he couldn’t take it. In all respects, the deal was carried out, but it was a loophole that would not be allowed again. I was just as easily a target for the next sacrifice. I weighed my options. I couldn’t go home, as Mr. Cyrus was there, and neither could I go to any of the other great cities, as their heroes would be alerted to my missing status when Kothraxis called for them. The other towns were more aware of the nature of the bargain, and I had unfortunately been marked on the back of my neck with a symbol, a branding of sorts that indicated I was to be a sacrifice. People wouldn’t take well to seeing it.”
“Show me it.” My prisoner commanded, momentarily forgetting who held authority here. “The mark I mean. To show your story’s true.”
It couldn’t hurt. I slipped my hood off of my head, turned around, and lowered my head. Showing in clear view the two four point stars overlapped like a compass rose their middles intersecting at a vertical cat-like eye.
“I suppose you want to see the scars too?” I asked,
“It wouldn’t hurt your chances that I believe you he said.”
Well aware of my lacking modesty I showed my bare body with four large scars where the daggers had stabbed in. I knew he was getting a show, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.
I put my robe back on. “Do you believe me yet?” I asked
“I don’t know why don’t you show me again,” He suggested.
"Ask me again and you won't ever have reason to be with a woman again," I said.
“Fine spoilsport, continue with your story.”
“I will,” I said contently
“At this point, I was basically a zombie, I had no friends or relationships that wouldn’t lead me right back to death a permanent one this time they would make sure. I decided the best thing I could do was go to the badlands. No one out there would know me, yet plenty of people survived there just fine. Along the way, I remembered that Jackson’s friend, Robert Lich had moved into the corruption of the badlands after he perfected his art, and judging by some of the topics on life extension in his books I correctly surmised he was still living there. I ended up searching for his castle, after all, it was because of his work that I was still alive. It was quite easy to find, I always found it peculiar how the common person you meet in the badlands was so much more helpful than those here. I imagine it’s because they are used to being forced a subsidiary but either way, they led me to his castle rather quickly.
When I got there the place seemed abandoned. Old moss covered windows, crumbling towers, and moat water that looked so saturated in filth that it might as well be solid decorated the castle, yet I would come to find that this was not out of abandonment, but rather a lack of motivation. When I explored inside, it took me a while but I eventually found a throne room. In the great plains beyond the corruption. Everyone referred to Robert as “The Lich” an evil Sorcerer who sends his army of the dead to raid and ransack pure villages. I knew him as a scholarly mage who founded a dark art to save his friend and others. The thing I saw sitting in that chair was neither depiction. Instead, Robert was a skeleton like Jackson, although fitted with more of his remaining characteristics. Instead of a skull with flaming eyes, Robert’s head was withered brown and green skin that had shrunken into the contours of the skull his like gray hair covered in what appeared to be soot fell down to his knees, and his ribs sunk in and his pelvis down fitted into long dark brown rags.
He seemed to be dead at first, but in his line of work that meant nothing. When I was about halfway down the aisle toward the throne, his withered voice arose.
“What do you want, girl?” He asked. Resigning not to move in the slightest as he spoke.
It was a good question, I hadn’t really had an answer at the time, I had just felt that after everything his acquaintance might mean safety. So that’s what I turned to.
“Sanctuary,” I said, “I cannot return to the great plains, and I have no home in the badlands. I felt that I belonged here.”
The rotten flesh coated skeleton straightened his spine visibly resuming a position that suited his supposed authority. He cracked his neck in either direction releasing sickening pops that sounded like breaking a bone, and very well may have been.
“And why would you have any reason to belong in The Lich’s castle” Robert replied.
“Because, I am undead, and it was only through your records that I was able to survive a sure death,” I replied.
He paused for half a moment. “Come here girl.” He ordered.
I walked up to him the rest of the way.
He stared at me for a moment. The withered holes where his eyes should be still somehow taking in his surroundings,
“Show me.” He said.
I gave him a similar view to what I just gave you, though cared less about personal space and was unbound. He traced over the scars with his withered fingers.
“How long has it been?” he asked not looking up from the scars.
I told him it had been a few weeks; it had taken as much to get to his castle on foot.
“Who cast the spell on you. To bring you back.” He asked.
“I cast it on myself. I knew I was going to die so I made sure that I would come back.”
“Your magic is strong, but it won’t hold forever. Your body is still dead you are just possessing it.” He explained. “It won’t be long before your spell wears off and you start to look like me.”
“Can you fix it?” I asked, hopefully. He had made the magic after all.
“I can revive your body, but you may not desire that. If I restore your body to a living form, you will need sleep, and sustenance again.” He told me. “I can put your body into a stasis, it won’t decay nor age, but I will warn you. I cannot undo this. If you desire, I can bestow upon you the curse of immortality. “ “
“So you’re immortal?” My captive asked again interrupting my story.
“Nigh-immortal. The Lich claims that immortality is a curse as cited from his own life that he might never make it to the next world. He isn’t truly immortal, though, and neither am I. It just would take something much stronger than either of us to separate our souls from our bodies. I imagine he has long since found a way to end himself if he really wanted to. He later revealed to me that he felt he had a responsibility to stay, as the only person who could fully restore the dead to life. In fact, I was the only other person he offered to make immortal as he knew where my soul would go should I die again. As bad as being stuck here may get, it is undoubtedly better than being stuck with a Demon for all eternity.”
“If you are nigh-immortal, then I really would like to know. What do you need me for? I doubt there is anything I could do that you couldn’t do yourself, with what, decades? Centuries? Of experience.”
“How long ago do you think all of this happened?” I asked him.
“I don’t know, it must have been before I was born, you say you come from the same village I do, but I never saw you there.”
“I imagine there is a great deal of people you’ve never seen there. The town is actually divided into four subsections. Entirely separate towns really, but within the same forest. Mr. Cyrus governs all of them, and they all have different hunting zones, different pathways out of the woods, and different barriers between them. He runs a fantasy, not a reality. Every four years he is expected to bring his sacrifice, every time he cycles between the four sections. One child who inexplicably loses all contact after leaving the village every sixteen years is a lot easier than one every four.” I explained. I’m not quite sure if he really believed me.
“Then when did it happen.” He asked.
“Three years, and eleven months ago,” I said. “That’s when I was sacrificed.”
“Then according to your story, our village is sending the sacrifice this year.” He said. “What am I supposed to save them or something. Is that why you are telling me all of this?”
“What’s your name,” I asked realizing I hadn’t gotten it when I had captured him earlier.
“Stephon” he responded.
“Stephon, why were you on the road tonight?” I asked.
He sat quietly for a moment.
“I was the worst archer in the village, well my section of the village by your judgment. Mr. Cyrus noticed other kids picking on me, and he offered me a quest outside the forest. So that when I returned I could have proven myself worthy of our village.”
“And that’s why the map you had was marked here,” I said, pulling the confiscated article out.
“He said there was an artifact there, one that would stop the unnatural winds that had begun plaguing our village. The same kind you described before you left. He said that I have to find it, activate it, and come back.”
“There may be such an artifact, but he lied to you about coming back. You were on your way to the very temple I escaped from. Stephon, you are this year’s sacrifice. You were walking into your own death.” I told him
“Why are you telling me this?” He asked suddenly. “Why couldn’t you have just let me go in blind?”
I was surprised. “I went in blind, I got handed three months’ imprisonment and a death sentence. I’ve just saved your life.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve just given me a choice. You just gave me the option to either die for the lives of others to continue or to save myself and forsake everything I love. You just forced that onto me!”
“I gave you a choice, you should be thanking me! I never had one.”
“No, you had several. You had every opportunity to abandon that insane plan of yours and accept your fate. You risked enraging Kothraxis, you could have killed us all!”
“I saved my life! I am trying to save yours! How can you look at me and say I am in the wrong when I have just given you a way out?! How can you possibly think that I am in the wrong for giving you an option?”
“Because you gave me the opportunity to choose wrong!” Stephon cried out. “You gave me a burden I didn’t want.”
“Then forget it,” I said. I waved my hand and the ropes binding him became ethereal. “If you are so set on not having the choice then you have already chosen. Go on, head to the temple and head to your death. Or run away, I don’t care what you choose. Show’s what trying to do some good in a world of evil gets you.”
With Stephon unbound and his map sharply thrust back at him, I stepped away into the darkness beyond our previously shared campfire.
I looked back. “I only wanted to help you,” I said.
He grabbed his things from behind the stump I had been sitting on.
“No, you weren’t. You were just looking for validation. That someone else would choose themselves over the world if given the chance. Well, they won’t.”
“Maybe you’re right. I did choose myself, but that doesn’t make me evil. I have a cause. I’m trying to save others.” I commented.
“Our heroes had a cause too, I imagine you still view them as evil. The difference is their cause actually, helps people. Sure their deal has killed hundreds, but it has equally saved hundreds of thousands from Kothraxis’s reign. How many people do you risk by saving me? How many deaths would have been my burden to bear?” He said.
“Stephon. I’m sorry, I thought you would like to have known.” I said. “I wish the best of luck in the next life. I hope that whatever horrors you face there you can still make peace with your choice.”
“I hope that the next poor soul you try to save has the same integrity as me. I’d rather my sacrifice not go to waste.” He said, grabbing the last of his things.
“Oh, Stephon one more thing,” I said as he turned around.
“What is it?” He asked annoyed.
“You chose wrong.”
I don’t know what it was he was going to say, but he didn’t get a chance too. I let him feel what I had once before. I held a bolt of energy into his heart and let it stand there. His heart muscles attempting and failing to contract around it.
“If you had let me finish my story. You’d know something else about Kothraxis; he found me in the badlands and after a bit of convincing he asked me to sabotage his bargain. It’s such a shame too. You could have lived a happy life, perhaps your next one will be better.” I said.
He worked up the ability to speak.
“You made a deal with Kothraxis. You are no better than the heroes you despise.” The dying moral compass of a boy called out.
“No, I am just on the good side of the inevitable. The only thing holding back Kothraxis from talking the great plains is his word. Something to which he always holds true. However, should the sacrifice not be made he has every right to rule once more. I’m just making sure it happens sooner than later. Enjoy the next world. You will be the last soul to make it there for a long time.”
I watched as the life drained slowly out his eyes seeing in them the reflection of my own. Soon enough his sprawling stopped and he fell utterly silent.
I stepped over his corpse and grabbed my things. I took his map and his armor, leaving no trace of what he was meant to be. I had a lot of preparation ahead of me, and only a month before the return of the Demon King.
Author’s Note: This story was in its beginnings an Origin story for the character Raven, but in writing this story I realized that the lore and future of this world would far outweigh the scope of Raven’s narrative. So this story became not only an origin story for this world’s most recent villain, but also introductions to the world itself and an Origin story that explains what I plan on it to be. I will not promise sequels to this story, but I am planning on them from the point of view of different characters. If I do eventually make them I will come back to this story eventually and flush out some of the details. On a final note, I would like to offer a MASSIVE thank you to Mary Davis. On the tail end of this story, I had an accident which resulted in the story being deleted. I had no backups and if not for her discovery of a partial copy of my story that was published early I would never have been able to finish this story. So if you enjoyed making sure to give her a thank you as well, because this story and any others that spawn from it would not have been possible if not for her.
A boy to my right raised his hand.
"Samuel, what do you think?" Mr. Cyrus asked
"It's exactly what it says. People are eviler than anything else in the world. It's because of our intelligence sir, we don't have flaming breath or fierce claws, but we have our bows, with them a single man might kill ten chimeras before they could close to him." The boy explained.
"Well, he'd certainly have to be a better shot than you." Mr. Cyrus jested. "Anyone else?"
I raised my hand
"Raven, your interpretation please."
"It's about self-hate sir-"
"You know a lot about that dontcha." a kid blurt out cutting me off.
Some of the other students laughed, but Mr. Cyrus kept his calm demeanor as always.
"You will know a lot about it too if you make another comment like that in my classroom Marshall." He said with just a tad bit less seriousness than I thought appropriate, but I continued.
"The work was written in the Dark ages, just after Kothraxis the terrible was sealed away. The author was talking about how men during that time period were cruel to others because that was all they had ever known under his reign. He hated his own race for the crimes they committed of their own free will after people had worked so hard to give it to them." I finished.
Mr. Cyrus spoke up "Good job on recognizing the time period, but you made the mistake of assuming the author was human. He was actually an elf. This is the first sentence of his novel on slavery and how elves endured it for years. This is the introduction of a new era of literature as elves adapt their tales from word of mouth to the human written word."
"Sir I thought that elves who were enslaved couldn't read" One kid blurted out.
"Neither could you until someone taught you." Mr. Cyrus said," but that is a generalization we will dispel in history next week. Speaking of other classes this one is nearly over. You may pack your things."
The class erupted as everyone stood up their things already long since gathered and made a break for the door. Before I could leave however Mr. Cyrus called me to the front.
"Raven, I'd like to speak with you please."
"Great." I thought. I thought that a lot actually as I was often being called up for things for no reason at all.
"What is it sir," I asked politely.
"What Marshall said earlier. If anyone else tells you something like that you tell me. I know that you aren't the most well-liked person in the school, but even joking about self-hatred is unacceptable."
"Thank you, Mr. Cyrus," I told him, "I have to go Mr. Cyrus I need to get to Archery."
What I didn't tell him was that the names of everyone else who said things like that. He might be able to punish one, but he would not be able to punish everyone in the school so it didn't matter. I waited to see if he would stop me again, but he didn't so I headed out of the classroom. The sun shone brightly through the canopy of the tree the school sat in a few dozen students were making their way down the winding paths of branches and down the staircase carved into the ancient oak. Everyone was making their way to the firing range. I never understood why the school had an archery class, everyone here was born with the ability to shoot. From the moment kids could hold a bow they could hit a jackalope from 30 yards away. Well everyone except me; I was incorrigible. It seemed the only thing anyone did in this class was show off. They would have other kids through targets into the air or shoot an arrow through a ring at incredible distances. No one would volunteer to be anywhere near the target had I been the one with a bow in my hands.
"How about a challenge." One boy said. " You and I see who can hit the target from a further distance."
It was Malcolm. Everyone knew he was the best archer in the school. Even the teachers couldn't beat him. He was challenging Samuel who was the only kid in school I could even begin to compare to. He had no chance, but he accepted it anyway.
"Hey shit shot, how bout you hold the target for us." He said to me.
People had stopped challenging me to their stupid contests because they knew I didn't care. I would always lose. Yet they still figured out away to pick on me, making me hold the target while they shot at it, occasionally letting an arrow fly near me. I had to stand perfectly still in fear that one might aim to scare me and by flinching I might move in the way. I could not, of course, decline the offer, if I wasn't good at hitting a target, and I wasn't good at being a target what use would they have for me.
I didn't say a word and I just took the target in my hands and started walking down range.
"Further you idiot. This is supposed to be a challenge; we are already warmed up." Malcolm called from behind me.
I hadn't planned on stopping there, but half of me wanted to just to spite him. I kept walking every ten yards were marked. I made it to 50 before I stopped and held the target above me.
"You go first Sammy," Malcolm said. " Don't miss."
I, of course, was still holding the target. I like to imagine that in some places there are actual target stands, but here I was of holding the bullseye.
Marshall knocked his first arrow and launched it. Half a moment later it thunked into the painted wood. He hit in the second ring. He knocked his next arrow and let it loose another thunk. This time it hit in the furthest out ring. He loosed his final shot. Thwap. The arrow hit the soggy ground a few yards behind me.
"Better luck next turn huh," Malcolm said
"Yea whatever," Samuel said.
"Hey, shit shot. Give me another 20 yards." The sharpshooter called.
I wasn't comfortable any further than 50, but I walked anyway. Most people here lost their accuracy at about 60 yards I doubted Malcolm could even make the arrow fly a full 70. I was wrong. The first arrow hit the bullseye, as did the second. Then he knocked the third. For some reason, I had a horrible feeling deep in my gut when he knocked that last arrow. I almost screamed wait, as if delaying it would help. He loosed the arrow and a gust of wind blew from behind me. At this range, that tiny breeze might as well be a tornado pushing the arrow low. I didn't have time to think or react. Chink! I opened my eyes without realizing I had closed them. In front of me was an arrow only inches from my face lodged into a slowly deteriorating purple energy field. I had done it again, I used magic in front of everyone.
The magic barrier finished dissolving and the arrow fell to the ground. I dropped the target and dropped to the ground. Had I not conjured that field I would have been dead, but showing magic in front of my classmates I might as well have been. I knew I was a freak, and so did they, I just gave them something new to talk about.
The rest of the school day was surprisingly calm. No one mentioned the magic, Malcolm hadn't even said he was sorry for nearly killing me, he always was a bit of a jerk but he should be happy I stopped the arrow in time. It wasn't until I got home that the day picked up again. Here in town, everyone had their own home, and I mean everyone. Husband and wife, mother and child they all lived in a separate house. People just went to the next house when they wanted to visit someone. It worked well, the houses were little more than bedrooms and bathrooms anyway; the town was communal so dining and any other activities were carried out in the lunch commons ground. To my surprise, I found a package behind my door when I walked in. I couldn't imagine anyone who cared enough to send me one, nor why it would be here instead of the post center, but I opened it anyway,
"Dear Raven,
I have heard about the recent event regarding your magic. While I should remind you that magic use is discouraged here, you will not be punished for this instance based on the circumstances. I know that it is difficult to control your powers, but I am making the arrangements for you to move to Iskara. There is a school there that accepts magic and can help you perfect it. See me tomorrow for details.
signed Danniel Cyrus."
The package was however far from empty. Inside were long purple drape like robes. They were dark blue and tinged with purple trims. A departing gift I imagined.
I had mixed feelings immediately. Mr. Cyrus had no doubt been the reason she wasn't getting punished, but his proposal seemed like a punishment of its own. It was so sudden, I was going to have to leave everything behind. Soon, however, the prospect grew appealing. There was only one person in the whole town who gave a damn about me anyway. I had only one reason to stay and he was the one telling me to go. I packed what little I had that night into a small bag, a few sets of clothes were all I needed and for the most part all I had to take with me. I went to sleep with an eagerness for the next day.
Fingers of sunlight danced across my floor as I awoke. Another gust of wind shaking the branches of my tree house. It was quite strange for the wind to blow here in Dralpine village. Usually, the air was stagnant, it was good for archery because the arrows wouldn't drift as they did yesterday. It was so rare here that many considered it an omen. I, on the other hand, enjoyed it. When I walked out my door I felt the wind at my heels as if it threatened to carry me away, away to the distant land of Iskara. The school was held as usual although archery was canceled on account of the alarming amount of wind. Mr. Cyrus said it was just a storm passing through and that everything would be fine in a day or so. At the end of class, I approached him.
"I got your letter. About Iskara, when can I go?" I asked.
"A bit eager are you? I expected as much. I sent a harpy ahead of us to let them know we're coming, and I have arranged for Mr. Arryn to teach my class while I'm away."
"Wait while you're away? You're coming too?" I asked surprised.
"Iskara is a few days away and this world is far more dangerous outside curry boundaries. I am going to make sure you're safe," he explained.
It was, of course, good he was coming otherwise I'd have probably died within a mile from town. I had no skill with a bow, and my magic was underdeveloped, but I with Mr. Cyrus with me nothing would do me harm. It was well known Mr. Cyrus was one of the heroes who had helped defeat Kothraxis and had, in turn, gained immortality and a huge reputation. I doubted anything would come near us with him nearby.
The rest of the conversation was simply small talk I had my bags packed and ready and Mr. Cyrus had a substitute ready we decided to head out at first light tomorrow. When I headed home I noticed it was much darker than normal. I told myself it was just the storm and went inside quickly. I set aside the set of robes Mr. Cyrus had given me and set off to sleep.
Another morning passed with wind whirling through the village. It seemed to howl as it passed through the tangled branches of the forest. I woke up early to the sound of knocking at my door.
"Raven, are you awake? You need to get ready for the trip."
It was Mr. Cyrus.
"Just a minute" I called scrambling out of bed. I threw on the robes he had left me then opened the door.
"Good morning Raven, I trust you slept well." he said.
I had been sleeping well before he woke me, but I didn't say anything. I was glad to be awake.
"I did sir. " was all I managed.
He laughed knowing the truth of it, I imagine he felt the same way at the time.
"Well, I'll give you a few minutes to get ready. The sun will be up in half an hour. We'll be gone before the rest of the village wakes. Meet me by the elder oak when you are ready. The elder oak was the oldest tree in the forest, a sprawling mess of purple tinted wood covered in black leaves. It wasn't really an oak tree but no one knew what kind it really was and the name sounded nice.
I set to work making myself look presentable, a luxury I wouldn't be able to enjoy on the road. I took a look in the mirror. In front of me stood a pale skinned girl with a thin frame. Her bright green eyes seemed to glow as their color clashed with her skin. Her long dark hair stood in a tangled mess atop her head and hints of dreariness showed through her lethargic movements. I hadn't expected Mr. Cyrus so early it was embarrassing to know I had answered the door with my hair tangled as such. So I spent the last few minutes in my home brushing my obsidian black hair behind me letting it fall down to my shoulder blades. When I was satisfied with the figure staring back at me I grabbed my bag and headed out the door.
Mr. Cyrus was waiting at the elder oak a bag of his own packed for the journey and his bow and quiver tucked behind his back. While I wore deep blue robes he instead wore a brilliant green jerkin and a pair of brown tight leggings. His arms and legs were braced with thin leather pads, not enough to stop a great sword but enough that it could protect him from grazes. While I was still getting comfortable in my robes he looked as though he was more suited for his current attire than anything else I had ever seen him wear.
"Are you ready?" He asked me as I approached.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
Just like that we left; we headed from the elder oak straight through the outskirts of town and onto the main road. I didn't so much as turn to say goodbye to the village, yet I thoroughly expected I would probably never return. The prospect didn't bother me as much perhaps as it should have. I will spare you the details of our travels, for the most part, it was sleeping on the cold hard ground or waiting in camp while Cyrus hunted. He insisted I drop the Mr. but still agreed to answer to his last name. Other than that it was walking and talking. It was quite the exhausting trip which lasted nearly a week and a half, but finally, we reached our destination.
"This is it. Come on inside I will help you register." Cyrus explained.
We stepped into this giant blue temple. It looked newer than any building I had lain my eyes on, yet somehow it felt ancient as if the building might have existed before the world itself. The front room appeared to be a reception room. What I mistook at first for a statue was actually our host. A skeleton sat in the chair eyes filling with two soft flame like orbs who began moving and talking just like any human might.
"Hello Danniel, long time no see." The animated skeleton said. "I can only imagine how much you have missed me."
Suddenly Cyrus's expression changed. Rather than his calm demeanor that he always seemed to wear his face shifted into a slight frown.
"I brought our tribute. Take her and be done with it," he said.
"Tribute? What Tribute?" I asked. The skeleton was the first to laugh.
"You still pull wool over the eyes of your people Danniel, try to convince them that the world is some happy place?" the skeleton asked, then before waiting for his response he asked another question to me. "Tell me, girl, where do you think you are?"
"I am at the magic school in- in Iskara," I said and I had believed it at the time, but my belief was quickly challenged.
"A magic school really. I thought your town specialized in Archery, " He said, then back to me "You are in no school, you are in a place of worship. Welcome to the Temple of Kothraxis.
"You have your tribute. Am I free to go?" Cyrus asked. " You know I don't stay for the ritual."
The skeleton dismissed him. "You are free to leave."
"Wait. Mr. Cyrus, what's going on, why did you bring me here? " I cried.
He didn't so much as look back to me before he walked out the door and it sealed behind him. I felt lost and sick. I was miles away from where I should have been in a temple devoted to the Demon that once controlled our world and I was supposed to be some sort of tribute. I was on the verge of a panic attack when the Skeleton spoke up again.
"So, I imagine you must be thoroughly confused. Danniel always insists on hiding the truth from his offerings. Every year one of the four great towns offers one person to Lord Kothraxis in exchange for his peace on the land, this year you are that offering."
"I don't understand. Kothraxis was sealed away centuries ago." I pleaded trying to convince myself more than him.
"The only thing binding Kothraxis is his word. All those centuries ago, when your heroes tried to defeat him they failed, quite tragically in fact. Yet the four of them had earned his respect through their combat and decided he would indulge them with some reward. The end result was a deal, one that has stood since, that Kothraxis would remove his influence from our lands and limit his reign to the corrupted plains beyond. In exchange every year one individual must be sacrificed to him as a sign of the contract's renewal. To ensure that his promise would be carried out the young sorceress of the groups Serenity requested that they are granted immortality so as to be absolutely sure that the sacrifice is made."
"So, I have to die," I asked in fear.
"You will, yes, but Mr. Cyrus was kind enough to bring you nearly three months before the sacrifice is due. Until then you will be permitted to live in His temple." The skeleton explained, so calm when speaking of death, perhaps for good reason.
I wondered if I would become like him after.
"What will happen to me, uh- afterward?" I asked.
"Your soul will be delivered to Kothraxis instead of the next world. He will do with it what he pleases."
"and my body?" I asked
"Your body will be buried. Kothraxis has no need of it." The skeleton explained.
"What about you, how did you, well come to be?" I asked, looking back on it I am not sure if I was more curious or fearful at the time.
"I was a human like you, then I died. My friend was an accomplished sorcerer. He brought me here in hopes that he could find a way to bring me back. He succeeded in bringing my soul back to my body, but my body was still dead and decaying. Eventually, all that was left of me was bones, but I could still function just the same as anyone else. He since became the world's finest necromancer and forgot about me entirely choosing instead to go into the corruption and build his own kingdom there."
I had many more questions but before I could ask another he stood up and walked down from his podium.
"Come with me, I will show you where you will be staying."
We walked through a huge set of doors in the back of the room. Every brick in the building was a midnight blue and not a single one showed a hint of wear. The corridor we walked through came to an end in a large square room. Instead of walls, there were staircases and corridors seemingly lining every inch of the room. Some staircases went up to a higher floor while others sank into the ground carrying people into the dark depths below the surface.
The skeleton showed me to my room. Quite a tiny place in a temple so huge, but about the same size as my old home had been. We had small talk along the way where he apologized for what was happening to me but insisted that it was necessary and he even told me his old name, Jackson. He is actually quite the nice fellow despite the circumstances if a bit blunt. When I was finally alone, I didn't know what I should do. It is quite a strange thing, knowing when you are going to die. It sort of takes the point out of anything, all your dreams all your aspirations, they reduce to nothing because you know that you can't reach them. If I tried to do anything what good would it be for, my only immediate thought was to escape, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. The strange feeling, I had in this place was the constant field of energy that surrounded it. This place was made to keep me inside, and I doubt that Jackson could let me leave even if he wanted to. Within the next two days, I had settled into a bland daily ritual. I ate the three meals Jackson provided daily. I slept near twelve hours, and I sat in my room wondering about everything I could be doing if I wasn't there. Jackson noticed. He seemed determined to make my death row as comfortable as possible. He started to stay after bringing me meals and talk to me. He asked me about what I liked to do and told me more about his past and the other "great acts" of our "heroes" to try and convince me their actions here were of Necessity, not complacency. Two weeks into my stay, I started to search the library. I hadn't been searching for information, but entertainment. I had nothing better to do. As it turns out ancient temples dedicated to Demon Lords don't have much of the way of casual reading material. I ended up reading through ancient tomes. You'd be surprised how fast you can get through a book when you have nothing better to do. Anyway, I eventually found a tome on Necromancy, in fact, an entire collection of them. I took them to my room for fresh reading material.
Jackson noticed my fresh collection of books when he brought dinner that day. He seemed somewhat sullen when he saw them.
"I see you found my friends books." he said. "the spells in there are what turned me into this. " he gestured at his body devoid of flesh.
"Do you miss him?" I asked detecting his glum nature despite revealing facial features.
" I miss the man he was.I know you don't have much time left, but I urge you not to dabble in those dark arts. They change a person. Make them shells of their former selves. Both to the subject and the caster."
He didn't stay that day claiming he had business to attend to. I doubt it was true. He was right, though.
Those books were a turning point for me. I didn't heed Jackson's warning. Instead, I began reading what were less like textbook and more like a journal. Inside were careful descriptions of several meticulous experiments in bringing entities back from the dead. The contents were disturbing yet intriguing. It included every ingredient and every process necessary to perform successful resurrection. The final account in the first book was simply titled human experimentation. Reading the book described in detail Jackson's recreation, and the book actually contained several notes directed towards Jackson himself about the trials the author had gone through to make this work and his intentions. I wondered if Jackson had ever read the journal. The end of this experiment was simply the words "IT WORKED!" scrawled out quickly into the pages. While this book took only a few hours to read the next two were significantly more information packed. Whereas the first spoke from experimentation and theory these two spoke from experience and gave notations of specific ways of bringing things back to life. Some with souls, some shells of their former being, you could even place a soul into someone else's body. It was in these countless pages that I regained purpose. I had the plan to get out but it was simply a matter of how much time I had to enact it. I had spent just over two weeks here when I realized my way out. That gave me two months to learn, set up, and enact all without Jackson's knowledge.
Two months passed by quickly. By now I had avidly read and reread the volume of books on Necromancy, all of which written by Jackson's friend, Robert Lich. I had raided the supply rooms for the supplies I needed, it's amazing how many alchemy components you can find in the basement of a demon temple.
The time came quicker than expected. It was the eve before I would be sacrificed. My plan was set but I could only have a single shot at it. Soon enough Jackson came to my room.
"I am afraid it is time," he said, " if you have any last words I will hear them now. You are expected to be silent during the ceremony."
What a stupid expectation that was, but I didn't have any last words because I had no intention of them being my last.
I was led to the top floor wherein I saw the first people other than Jackson in three months. Four figures dressed in instantly recognizable uniforms. One wore a huge shining suit of armor covered in plating from head to toe, he was Tordak the great knight. The next was garbed in a deep crimson cloak with a golden dragon snaking around her. She was Serenity the Sorceress. The third wore a simple white robe sparsely decorated in gold, Isaiah the Cleric. Finally the fourth wore a familiar green jerkin with leather accessories. Danniel Cyrus the Archer. These were of course not the real “Heroes”, but rather four ritual cultists who stood in their place when the real ones were too busy or too cowardly to show. I favored the latter.
Just as promised the ceremony was completely silent. Jackson led me to the Alter and quickly retreated from the room. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen, I didn’t blame him. The other four lifted me onto the pedestal. There was a moment of stillness after that. Each of the four had their heads down as if saying a silent prayer. Then suddenly as quick as a blink there was a dagger in my chest.
I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it. It doesn’t feel like you would expect it to, that horrible shocking pain isn’t there, but instead there is what feels like a bruise with a little tingling as a pool of blood spreads further from your wound across your skin. In the time it took for me to notice that my heart had stopped beating three more daggers were lodged into my chest and abdomen. One from each of the four cultists beside me. The pain of the daggers was nothing to me, though. In the moments that my heart stopped beating, I made a discovery. Ever since we are born our hearts are beating. We end up just getting used to it only noticing its fluctuations after intense activity or fear, where its incessant pulsing reminds you that you are alive. As it turns out the opposite is true. When your heart stops there is a void in you. Something unnatural that you just can’t describe. You know that you are dead, you are just on the verge of life waiting for it to be extinguished. The four cultists around me began making some strange motions, I don’t really know what they looked like I was to focused on my non-beating heart and blood pooling lungs, but I began to float above the pedestal, and then I blacked out. I was dead.”
“Bullshit,” my captive said, having apparently worked the makeshift gag out of his mouth a long time ago yet resisting the urge to speak until now. To be completely honest I had near forgotten he was there I was so caught up in my story.
“When you first started talking I was expecting a sob story, then you got interesting, and now I know its all a lie. What a waste.” He said. I considered putting the gag back in to shut him up but figured we might as well make some idle conversation.
“What makes you think that my story is a lie?” I asked relaxing backward behind the campfire.
“You said you died. You kidnapped me, ergo you’re obviously not dead, ergo you’re a liar.” He said victoriously.
“You weren’t paying very much attention,” I commented
“What do you mean I wasn’t paying attention? I am tied to a log, in the middle of a forest with literally nothing to focus on except you. You can’t die and still be here.”
“I had a plan remember. Now shut up and let me get back to the story or I’ll put that gag back where it belongs.
“I could call for help you know.” He said
“You haven’t thus far,” I replied, and before he could say anything else I resumed my story.
“So as you know, I was dead. During that period, I have no recollection whatsoever, but my plan was still in motion. There was a reason I grew so interested in Necromancy. It is possible to bring yourself back from the dead with proper preparations, and I just so happened to have them. At midnight that night I woke up in a cramped little coffin. Much as Jackson’s body was still dead when he was brought back, mine was still the same just reanimated. I was an animated corpse with a soul for a time. One that needs not fear death, but could not truly enjoy the world of the living. I dug my way out of that coffin, a much harder task than you may think to trust me, and broke the surface. I was not out of danger, though. The cultists believed me dead but had they seen me they would surely discover the truth. The deal was someone had to die for Kothraxis, but it was merely implied that their soul must go to him. I had infused my soul into my coffin beforehand so that he couldn’t take it. In all respects, the deal was carried out, but it was a loophole that would not be allowed again. I was just as easily a target for the next sacrifice. I weighed my options. I couldn’t go home, as Mr. Cyrus was there, and neither could I go to any of the other great cities, as their heroes would be alerted to my missing status when Kothraxis called for them. The other towns were more aware of the nature of the bargain, and I had unfortunately been marked on the back of my neck with a symbol, a branding of sorts that indicated I was to be a sacrifice. People wouldn’t take well to seeing it.”
“Show me it.” My prisoner commanded, momentarily forgetting who held authority here. “The mark I mean. To show your story’s true.”
It couldn’t hurt. I slipped my hood off of my head, turned around, and lowered my head. Showing in clear view the two four point stars overlapped like a compass rose their middles intersecting at a vertical cat-like eye.
“I suppose you want to see the scars too?” I asked,
“It wouldn’t hurt your chances that I believe you he said.”
Well aware of my lacking modesty I showed my bare body with four large scars where the daggers had stabbed in. I knew he was getting a show, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.
I put my robe back on. “Do you believe me yet?” I asked
“I don’t know why don’t you show me again,” He suggested.
"Ask me again and you won't ever have reason to be with a woman again," I said.
“Fine spoilsport, continue with your story.”
“I will,” I said contently
“At this point, I was basically a zombie, I had no friends or relationships that wouldn’t lead me right back to death a permanent one this time they would make sure. I decided the best thing I could do was go to the badlands. No one out there would know me, yet plenty of people survived there just fine. Along the way, I remembered that Jackson’s friend, Robert Lich had moved into the corruption of the badlands after he perfected his art, and judging by some of the topics on life extension in his books I correctly surmised he was still living there. I ended up searching for his castle, after all, it was because of his work that I was still alive. It was quite easy to find, I always found it peculiar how the common person you meet in the badlands was so much more helpful than those here. I imagine it’s because they are used to being forced a subsidiary but either way, they led me to his castle rather quickly.
When I got there the place seemed abandoned. Old moss covered windows, crumbling towers, and moat water that looked so saturated in filth that it might as well be solid decorated the castle, yet I would come to find that this was not out of abandonment, but rather a lack of motivation. When I explored inside, it took me a while but I eventually found a throne room. In the great plains beyond the corruption. Everyone referred to Robert as “The Lich” an evil Sorcerer who sends his army of the dead to raid and ransack pure villages. I knew him as a scholarly mage who founded a dark art to save his friend and others. The thing I saw sitting in that chair was neither depiction. Instead, Robert was a skeleton like Jackson, although fitted with more of his remaining characteristics. Instead of a skull with flaming eyes, Robert’s head was withered brown and green skin that had shrunken into the contours of the skull his like gray hair covered in what appeared to be soot fell down to his knees, and his ribs sunk in and his pelvis down fitted into long dark brown rags.
He seemed to be dead at first, but in his line of work that meant nothing. When I was about halfway down the aisle toward the throne, his withered voice arose.
“What do you want, girl?” He asked. Resigning not to move in the slightest as he spoke.
It was a good question, I hadn’t really had an answer at the time, I had just felt that after everything his acquaintance might mean safety. So that’s what I turned to.
“Sanctuary,” I said, “I cannot return to the great plains, and I have no home in the badlands. I felt that I belonged here.”
The rotten flesh coated skeleton straightened his spine visibly resuming a position that suited his supposed authority. He cracked his neck in either direction releasing sickening pops that sounded like breaking a bone, and very well may have been.
“And why would you have any reason to belong in The Lich’s castle” Robert replied.
“Because, I am undead, and it was only through your records that I was able to survive a sure death,” I replied.
He paused for half a moment. “Come here girl.” He ordered.
I walked up to him the rest of the way.
He stared at me for a moment. The withered holes where his eyes should be still somehow taking in his surroundings,
“Show me.” He said.
I gave him a similar view to what I just gave you, though cared less about personal space and was unbound. He traced over the scars with his withered fingers.
“How long has it been?” he asked not looking up from the scars.
I told him it had been a few weeks; it had taken as much to get to his castle on foot.
“Who cast the spell on you. To bring you back.” He asked.
“I cast it on myself. I knew I was going to die so I made sure that I would come back.”
“Your magic is strong, but it won’t hold forever. Your body is still dead you are just possessing it.” He explained. “It won’t be long before your spell wears off and you start to look like me.”
“Can you fix it?” I asked, hopefully. He had made the magic after all.
“I can revive your body, but you may not desire that. If I restore your body to a living form, you will need sleep, and sustenance again.” He told me. “I can put your body into a stasis, it won’t decay nor age, but I will warn you. I cannot undo this. If you desire, I can bestow upon you the curse of immortality. “ “
“So you’re immortal?” My captive asked again interrupting my story.
“Nigh-immortal. The Lich claims that immortality is a curse as cited from his own life that he might never make it to the next world. He isn’t truly immortal, though, and neither am I. It just would take something much stronger than either of us to separate our souls from our bodies. I imagine he has long since found a way to end himself if he really wanted to. He later revealed to me that he felt he had a responsibility to stay, as the only person who could fully restore the dead to life. In fact, I was the only other person he offered to make immortal as he knew where my soul would go should I die again. As bad as being stuck here may get, it is undoubtedly better than being stuck with a Demon for all eternity.”
“If you are nigh-immortal, then I really would like to know. What do you need me for? I doubt there is anything I could do that you couldn’t do yourself, with what, decades? Centuries? Of experience.”
“How long ago do you think all of this happened?” I asked him.
“I don’t know, it must have been before I was born, you say you come from the same village I do, but I never saw you there.”
“I imagine there is a great deal of people you’ve never seen there. The town is actually divided into four subsections. Entirely separate towns really, but within the same forest. Mr. Cyrus governs all of them, and they all have different hunting zones, different pathways out of the woods, and different barriers between them. He runs a fantasy, not a reality. Every four years he is expected to bring his sacrifice, every time he cycles between the four sections. One child who inexplicably loses all contact after leaving the village every sixteen years is a lot easier than one every four.” I explained. I’m not quite sure if he really believed me.
“Then when did it happen.” He asked.
“Three years, and eleven months ago,” I said. “That’s when I was sacrificed.”
“Then according to your story, our village is sending the sacrifice this year.” He said. “What am I supposed to save them or something. Is that why you are telling me all of this?”
“What’s your name,” I asked realizing I hadn’t gotten it when I had captured him earlier.
“Stephon” he responded.
“Stephon, why were you on the road tonight?” I asked.
He sat quietly for a moment.
“I was the worst archer in the village, well my section of the village by your judgment. Mr. Cyrus noticed other kids picking on me, and he offered me a quest outside the forest. So that when I returned I could have proven myself worthy of our village.”
“And that’s why the map you had was marked here,” I said, pulling the confiscated article out.
“He said there was an artifact there, one that would stop the unnatural winds that had begun plaguing our village. The same kind you described before you left. He said that I have to find it, activate it, and come back.”
“There may be such an artifact, but he lied to you about coming back. You were on your way to the very temple I escaped from. Stephon, you are this year’s sacrifice. You were walking into your own death.” I told him
“Why are you telling me this?” He asked suddenly. “Why couldn’t you have just let me go in blind?”
I was surprised. “I went in blind, I got handed three months’ imprisonment and a death sentence. I’ve just saved your life.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve just given me a choice. You just gave me the option to either die for the lives of others to continue or to save myself and forsake everything I love. You just forced that onto me!”
“I gave you a choice, you should be thanking me! I never had one.”
“No, you had several. You had every opportunity to abandon that insane plan of yours and accept your fate. You risked enraging Kothraxis, you could have killed us all!”
“I saved my life! I am trying to save yours! How can you look at me and say I am in the wrong when I have just given you a way out?! How can you possibly think that I am in the wrong for giving you an option?”
“Because you gave me the opportunity to choose wrong!” Stephon cried out. “You gave me a burden I didn’t want.”
“Then forget it,” I said. I waved my hand and the ropes binding him became ethereal. “If you are so set on not having the choice then you have already chosen. Go on, head to the temple and head to your death. Or run away, I don’t care what you choose. Show’s what trying to do some good in a world of evil gets you.”
With Stephon unbound and his map sharply thrust back at him, I stepped away into the darkness beyond our previously shared campfire.
I looked back. “I only wanted to help you,” I said.
He grabbed his things from behind the stump I had been sitting on.
“No, you weren’t. You were just looking for validation. That someone else would choose themselves over the world if given the chance. Well, they won’t.”
“Maybe you’re right. I did choose myself, but that doesn’t make me evil. I have a cause. I’m trying to save others.” I commented.
“Our heroes had a cause too, I imagine you still view them as evil. The difference is their cause actually, helps people. Sure their deal has killed hundreds, but it has equally saved hundreds of thousands from Kothraxis’s reign. How many people do you risk by saving me? How many deaths would have been my burden to bear?” He said.
“Stephon. I’m sorry, I thought you would like to have known.” I said. “I wish the best of luck in the next life. I hope that whatever horrors you face there you can still make peace with your choice.”
“I hope that the next poor soul you try to save has the same integrity as me. I’d rather my sacrifice not go to waste.” He said, grabbing the last of his things.
“Oh, Stephon one more thing,” I said as he turned around.
“What is it?” He asked annoyed.
“You chose wrong.”
I don’t know what it was he was going to say, but he didn’t get a chance too. I let him feel what I had once before. I held a bolt of energy into his heart and let it stand there. His heart muscles attempting and failing to contract around it.
“If you had let me finish my story. You’d know something else about Kothraxis; he found me in the badlands and after a bit of convincing he asked me to sabotage his bargain. It’s such a shame too. You could have lived a happy life, perhaps your next one will be better.” I said.
He worked up the ability to speak.
“You made a deal with Kothraxis. You are no better than the heroes you despise.” The dying moral compass of a boy called out.
“No, I am just on the good side of the inevitable. The only thing holding back Kothraxis from talking the great plains is his word. Something to which he always holds true. However, should the sacrifice not be made he has every right to rule once more. I’m just making sure it happens sooner than later. Enjoy the next world. You will be the last soul to make it there for a long time.”
I watched as the life drained slowly out his eyes seeing in them the reflection of my own. Soon enough his sprawling stopped and he fell utterly silent.
I stepped over his corpse and grabbed my things. I took his map and his armor, leaving no trace of what he was meant to be. I had a lot of preparation ahead of me, and only a month before the return of the Demon King.
Author’s Note: This story was in its beginnings an Origin story for the character Raven, but in writing this story I realized that the lore and future of this world would far outweigh the scope of Raven’s narrative. So this story became not only an origin story for this world’s most recent villain, but also introductions to the world itself and an Origin story that explains what I plan on it to be. I will not promise sequels to this story, but I am planning on them from the point of view of different characters. If I do eventually make them I will come back to this story eventually and flush out some of the details. On a final note, I would like to offer a MASSIVE thank you to Mary Davis. On the tail end of this story, I had an accident which resulted in the story being deleted. I had no backups and if not for her discovery of a partial copy of my story that was published early I would never have been able to finish this story. So if you enjoyed making sure to give her a thank you as well, because this story and any others that spawn from it would not have been possible if not for her.