"I can show you that which binds this very world together and all those like it." A crooning voice slid through the night, drifting its way into Gremm's dream. "I can show you countless worlds, places beyond any human's wildest dreams. All I need is your agreement, and untold power will be at your very fingertips…"
"No," Gremm replied. Though his thoughts felt weighted and disconnected, he stirred himself from his dream, shielding his eyes and shaking his head. "No, I have no need to deal with you." Wait, he thought, tell me what agreement. Who are you?
"It's quite simple, I am in need of a servant that can attack out my will if necessary, and you carry the innate talent to do so. If you serve me, I will awaken the fractured bloodline that courses through slumbering within your very veins. SERVE ME…" his voice raking against Gremm's very mind as if reaching through the veil between words attempting to force a connection that would link them for all of eternity. "Do not want to escape this placid reality?" his voice drifting off as if receding to somewhere far beyond this plane left an indelible heat burning within Gremm. It was as if his body was being burnt by a frigid heat, leaving him sitting in his own perspiration. "Who was that?" he spoke to himself. What had occurred was a reiteration of a nightmare, but one that had grown drastically lucid over time.
Gremm rose from his bed as soft golden light had just begun to spill through his home's window illuminating the small quarters the occupied his life. It was by no means extravagant, as one could reach the walls with only a few strides. The sound of the small town of Vernest began to accompany the morning sun in its arousal as the denizens could be heard heading towards their daily lives, as a soft melody filling the air as the local temple set off its bells to adorn the new day. Gremm took a few steps within his home, the old floors giving out their usual moans displaying their age as he made his way to a small desk, his hands gathering a few quills and sets of ink necessary for his work. Is this all life having to offer? He thought to himself as his feet whisked him away, headed towards the town's small Library. It was a decadent morning. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly cooked bread as Gremm continued at his meager pace, arms full of quills and bottles of ink. It was a common sight for those who knew him, but the children always found it amusing as they circled him to watch his small figure balance all his items precariously.
The stone pathways wound themselves like small intertwining clay snakes dashing about in a myriad of directions in which one could quickly become lost, his gait falling into a rhythmic style, disturbing settled dust laying upon the land. It was a walk he had long grown accustomed to over the last four years since he had taken up his profession. It was honest work. It took effort, skill, and most importantly, the dedication of a sharp mind to complete.
Gremm shook himself from his stray thought as an old stone building came into view just over the rising hill and the town's receding bustle. This was his second home, a towering building filled with endless knowledge. That was merely available for those willing to seek through the dusty tomes left within its walls. It had everything imaginable from history to legends of lost treasures left by the gods. It was only here that Gremm truly felt important.
It was mere moments that passed as Gremm scaled his way up the hill to the lofty entrance of the Vernest Grand Library. Its stone steps echoing out beneath him as if excited by his return, the pillars supporting the stone roof stood firm as if the weight of heaven depended on their continued success. He stood still for a few moments admiring the architecture of the building. It was a simple design but even a breathtaking work of beauty from its ivory stone marble filled with blue veins as if magic was weaved into its existence, granting it timeless immortality. This was his real home, not the small box he occupied during the night but here within the halls of collected knowledge. As he passed through the doors into the halls, not even ten steps from him stood an older man marred by the passing of time, the color having receded from his hair long ago, and its unforgiveness seemed to have permanently etched his face into a snappish scowl. This was Augustas, the head scholar of the Vernest Library, and to Gremm's displeasure, his boss.
"You're late again," Augusta stated, "You are always late, if there were ever a person that wished to take your job, it would be my utter pleasure to replace them with you in a timely fashion, and perhaps I would not need to stand here every morning to be disappointed by your inadequacies."
Gremm merely bowed his head before beaming brightly at Augustas before heading off into the Library's hall towards the back. It was there that he worked all day diligently. He had been given an empty room with a table, four bookshelves lined with books in need of transcription, and a chest filled to the brim with the material needed for his work. Here, he spent his days replicating books to retain their knowledge for future generations. It was a rewarding profession to be a scribe, not the most exciting from the outside, but to Gremm, it was an excuse to read.
Gremm walked to one of his bookshelves, his hand running across each book it passed before he randomly plucked one out from the shelf. The soft leather binding was giving way as his finger entwined around it before spreading it open before him. Unfortunately, the system of writing was unfamiliar to him, but it seemed to be easily transcribable. This was his way of finding a moment of excitement in work. It was the luck of the draw, some days, he would pluck from the wall a book that held adventure or spoke of forgotten history, and others he would find himself attempting to decipher new languages. It was in this way he had managed to acquire the ability to read other races' scripts.
However, he had never seen a script quiet like the one written within this book. The words were written in a fashion similar to the runic in the form found in Dwarven script but written with spiraling turns of the Elvish tongue and harsh lines reminiscent of the Draconic language from the north. It was varied but blended exquisitely on the paper that smelled softly of sulfur. The parchments' edges were lined with gilded figures as if telling a story that couldn't be made out due to being fatigued by time.
Gremm began to quietly spend the early morning crafting a new tome to begin transcribing this new fascinating language. He finally settled on the formation of a hardwood shielding usually reserved for Elven script but filled with Dwarven parchment due to the need for heavy ink in this script. It was after this he began by quietly dipping his quill into a vial of cascading azure ink. The quill followed his hand in a fluid motion from ingrained skill as his eyes locked onto the strange script. The script filled all his thoughts as he subtly traced the runes onto the newly crafted tome. A collection of seconds turned into minutes as they ran together into hours. It was in this manner that Gremm spent the rest of his day in a trance enamored by the text until the final rune was skillfully carved out with his quill into the freshly forged tome. It was the first time in his life that he had ever finished a transcription in a single day, but as the realization struck, it was interrupted by a shrieking stomach crying out in hunger. He quietly collected his items in his pack that he left here the other day after purchasing it not to carry all his tools once again to be a small form of entertainment for others.
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Gremm ran with haste making his way through the towering bookshelves filling the Library. He dashed towards, its entrance hoping to make it in time to find a place to eat before being restricted to dining at a less than savory bar filled with people he would rather not fraternize amongst.
Yet, his late exit had drawn the disapproving ire of Augustas as he pushed his way past the old head of the Library and squeezed out the door quickly without giving so much as a glance in the man's direction.
When their shoulders brushed, Augustas entered a trance as his face twisted with terror as Gremm fled off into the night. Augustas was left standing there muttering to himself. The words that escape from his lips spilled into the quiet Library as arcane energy rippled out from his form. The resonance that came back turned his terror into grief as he hurriedly made his way to the back where the freshly minted tome was lying. Augustas stood still watching as the original tome turned to ashes, and the new one disappeared after shimmering into a haze. "Oh, child, Forgive me," he cried out. Augustas knew it was his fault that tome had been one of his personal collections, and he had lost it ages ago. He was unaware that someone found it and placed it into Gremm's workload.
Gremm had managed to find a stall serving bread and meat on his way home. Yet, somehow for the first time in his life, he wasn't in a hurry as the darkness no longer felt constricting. There was a sort of soft comfort as if the night was embracing him. It was as if he was being protected and shielded under it. The air of the night no longer felt cold on his pale skin but refreshing as it passed through him. He no longer felt tired but revitalized by every step he took under the moonlight sky, the light shining upon his face. He made his way home, taking a scenic route that he usually avoided as it passed by the river and pressed the surrounding temperatures into submission; it was something he never enjoyed. Yet, on this night, it was as if the whole world had changed for him, and the night was his ally.
He finally managed to make it to his home as he slid his bag down off his shoulder, allowing it to slump to the ground lifelessly. The sight of his bed reminded him of the weariness from the day's work. He sauntered toward his bed before laying down and curling himself into the blanket, drifting away into a deep slumber.
The night passed aggressively unbeknownst to Gremm, who tossed and turned. The air around him dropped below freezing as his home began to ice over, the crack of vials filled the room, as a dark hymn filled the air trapped within the walls of Gremm's home. The frozen ink snaked its way across his floor, circling his bed as runes formed together all around the slumbering Gremm. The hymns turned into chants as dark tendrils of arcane energy twisted out from the void tearing through the thin veil of the world. When it finally pierced through, it drilled into Gremm's chest and left him crying out soundlessly into the night before slumping back down unmoving. Arcane energy lit up burn running across his body before coalescing into a runic emblazoned crown on his back with wings folded around encompassing a moon.
The rest of that night passed quietly for Gremm, but Augustas prepared for what had to be done as he slept. "Awaken, Awaken, AWAKEN!" The familiar crooning voice echoed out. Gremm woke up hurriedly, standing with the remnants of the voice within his mind. "Oh, child of mine, the pact has been made for now to the end of eternity, go forth. You must hurry." The voice rang out again. Grimm stood still for a few more moments before shaking off the effects of the voice. He grabbed what he could before rushing out of the door, unsure of where to go, but he felt the voice compelling him to escape.
As Gremm made his way outside of his home, he was greeted by twelve glimmering spears encircling him, and just behind the steel-plated soldiers was the scowling face of Augustas. However, he didn't look like the librarian Gremm knew him as. Augustas was in a striking wizard robe with the badge of a commander of the 9th legion, a military army is known for their heretics' executions.
As their eyes met, Gremm noticed a look of melancholy hiding within the older man's eyes. "Take him away to the platform," Augustas cried out. It took less than a second for the soldiers to restrain Gremm as they began to drag him to the town center where a platform had been installed overnight. It was familiar to Gremm as he had seen before in an illustration that spoke of the last war. It was a platform for the execution of criminals that sided against humanity and gods.
As Gremm was hauled up the platform and chained to it, Augustas sat down at a table before the platform with three others, one was the mayor of the town Gremm had seen in passing, one was the lady who ran the towns tailor shop, and the last was the man who had served Gremm the previous night, he ran a food stall. However, today they were all dressed in military garbs of the 9th legion.
"You stand accused of heresy by the formation of a pact in the servitude of a devil. How do you plead?" A thunderous voice escaped the Vendors' throat. There was a smoldering fire within this once friendly man's eyes as they fell upon Gremm.
"I don't understand what you all are talking about. I have done nothing wrong. The days have passed quietly my whole life, and I work endlessly transcribing tomes ask," Gremm cried out.
"Nexen, He doesn't know anything. It was not his fault but a mistake of my own. I could not destroy that accursed tome before it managed to hide within the wall of the Library. Why do you think I have spent my lifeguarding that shit hole? You know I hate reading and dust," Augustas spoke. "I am sorry, Gremm, but that tome you transcribed the last night was a contract with a devil, and it has sealed your fate through no fault of your own. I sentence you under the power of the 9th legion. Those who side with devils knowingly or unknowingly must be executed. I Augustas Arvex of the light, Commander of the 9th legion with authority bestowed by his majesty, sentence you to DEATH!"
"Soldiers step back," Nexen commanded. Gremm watched as the soldiers removed themselves from the platform as Augustas rose from his seat and stepped forward, locking eyes with Gremm.
"A flamma usque ad cinerem omnes redit ad terram*," Augustas chanted, as arcane energy poured out from his body and snaked its way through his arms. A pillar of fire began to twist around the platform burning it to ash. It began enclosing gradually as Augustas continually chanted, focusing all his power into returning everything within the column of flame to dust.
However, the column stalled when it came with five feet of Gremm, and another silhouette appeared behind Gremm.
"I am sorry, commander, but I am going to have to take my youngest sibling back with me today but don't worry, I am sure you will see him again," the silhouetted stated. Augustas stood watching his fists clenched tight as the column dispersed, as drops of perspiration filled his back with a cold sweat.
"Fucking warlocks," he whispered before turning away and walking back towards the grand Library.