“What the fuck is this!?”
“Ah. Here we go again.” The Headmaster sighed in a gravelly tone. But even as the door slammed shut behind me- even as I sneered at him- Zorrenor Knagh retained the amiable persona of a professional poker player. His eyes, a mix of reds and greens like autumn leaves, radiated a sense of warmness that out-competed his off-puttingly fiendish inhumanity. His skin, a greenish-brown like moss grown over bark, had been tanned from centuries upon centuries of exposure to the elements, eventually forming the bark-like wrapping that was pulled taut in a pleasurable smile. An open one. One that showed the rows of fanged teeth and relatively short tusks hiding in his mouth, acting like mountains on a coastline that dispersed a stinking mist of mildew and detritus into the vale of his office.
But his appearance was outside of my mind. Instead, I was focused on the objects wisping or floating above and around his horned head. The largest one and the object of my initial outburst was an incorporeal mass of death and darkness shaped in the form of a slender, horned humanoid. Like a personal rain cloud, it floated above Zorrenor’s body. Swaying with his movements as if to keep Zorrenor’s crown positioned directly below its jagged jaws.
“Explain.” I dropped my eyes down to him.
“Please.” He gestured before his desk. “Sit-”
“No.”
“Very well.” He clasped his hands together and focused on me for a second. “I’ve summoned you to tell you that your armor has been approved for usage.”
“Good to know.” I blinked.
Waited.
Watched him give his eyes a deep rub. Let out a great sigh as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. And, after another sigh, he dragged his nails down his cheeks as if to shred any traces of false amiability or benevolence from his persona. Revealing something burning in his eyes that I never expected to see.
Hope.
“I’ve had this conversation several times before, Amun,” Zorrenor said.
“I bet you have.” I flicked my eyes around his head a snort. To where a school of black wisps and streaks of energy chaotically whipped around and through his skull without end. “That’s more curses than most people see in their lifetimes.”
“Bestowed upon me by the Nox. As I’m sure you’ve surmised.” He smiled softly. Paused and eventually leaned back to turn away with a nostalgic look. And muttered. “Cole was the first of your family I met. He was a student in the Bodhi Tree’s opening year. We had a meeting- much like this, but. He…” Zorrenor pulled on his collar to show a large scar that covered much of his shoulder and came to an end somewhere in the depths of his robes. “He assaulted me at first sight. Claiming, 'I broke the rules; that, 'the Shadow of Death haunts me,' and, 'I must be punished.' But, in the end, he did not kill me, for he claimed my knowledge was invaluable to his descendants.
“So, he cursed me. And from then on, I’ve had no choice but to welcome the Children of the Night to these roots. To learn. To grow. To vex and curse me and leave. Every time.” He lightly chuckled for a moment. Only for it to pitter out in a pitiful sigh. “I’ve now come to expect certain… events to transpire whenever the Nox returns to these roots. Including but not limited to a complete and utter disregard for authority; a forest filled with undead and shadow creatures; peers, and in some cases teachers either fearing or revering the Nox; Prestige Classes that make the Polaris kingdoms convene to panic en masse; and much, much more.
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“I... dare to presume you will do the same?” He looked at me with almost pleading eyes.
“Naturally.” I turned my gaze to the entity overhead. “But.” I dropped my eyes back to him. “I may be willing to make a deal instead.”
“A deal, you say?” He scratched his chin and squinted as if to hide the smoldering embers of hope radiating from his eyes. “Very well. But, if I may ask. Why does your family insist on cursing and threatening me?”
“You already know the answer.”
“Indulge me.” He smiled. “Why am I not allowed to be blessed with eternal life?”
“For starters, because there is no such thing.” I scoffed. ‘Not even for an Eternal, despite my proclaimed godliness.’
“Nothing lives forever, Zorrenor. Not Druids- no matter how powerful they may be, nor dragons or even the most potent lich in existence. Even you- having lived for a thousand years, hardly has a clue as to what eternity truly entails. But allow me to help you understand the folly of eternal life. One day, the sun will die and take a good portion of the Mortal Plane with it. Long after that, everything in the universe will decay; either into nothing or into iron. Regardless of what happens, everything will decay. Light will disappear. Life will return to the void from which it came. Time will become meaningless, and those who’ve been, as you say, blessed with eternal life will be faced with a cold, unchanging emptiness. A veritable death.
“But that's beside the point. Your time is up, Zorrenor.” I jerked my finger at him again. “You have outlived your stay on the Mortal Plane. The Under calls for your soul. That is why the Shadow of Death haunts you. And we must heed its call. That’s why Cole assaulted you. That’s why I showed you such hostility. However, you were cursed only because you allowed hubris to lead you down such a fruitless path. And still, you show little remorse. Contrarily, I get the feeling that you hope to be released from these curses and be free to enjoy your ‘eternal life’ like all the other greedy mortals who found a way to cheat death. But that’ll never happen. At least not on this Plane.”
“Cole told me much the same thing.” He dryly laughed before I’d even finished. Then subtly sneered as he awaited my reply. So I gave him none to leech. I only stared and waited however long it took for him to continue digging his own grave. “You’re the spitting image of him, you know?” He eventually asked. “You’re much smaller of course, but the likeness is uncanny. More so, you are just as powerful as him, if not more. And oh, was Cole of the Nox powerful. Your sorcery is the same. But… you seem different. And it's not because of your ties to the Fae.”
“Yeah, I’m a Devil unlike any other. Now, is there anything else, headmaster?”
“Yes.” He slowly lowered his head to resume his former personal. “While your Abyssal Armor is approved for usage in duels, your Key is not. That is all.”
“I don’t anticipate having to use it here.” I turned to the door with a scoff. Then stopped after grabbing the handle to turn about and look him deep in the eyes. “I hope it was worth it. Whatever you did to gain this stolen time. Because the Raven Reaper will make due on her promise. And I will return to either curse you or make a deal with you. Which one you take is up to you.”
I left without waiting for his reply. Calmly. But once his door was closed and I was a fair way down the hall, I began storming towards the Bodhi Tree’s roots with dutiful purpose. I knew it was only due to my… extensive education with Grandpa Lich, but I felt an obligation to uphold the rules of death and the headmaster sullied them with his avarice. He had to be killed, cursed, or dealt with. Those were the rules. And I had the perfect bargaining chips, but now wasn’t the time to show them. I needed to perfect the deal, learn more from my ancestors, finish my studies in this place; and most importantly, raise some undead.
But above all, I had to deal with this pent-up aggression of mine. With that and the 15 years of self-repression I was trying to shake free from, I felt as if I could blow at any moment. So I stormed into the gym and flew to the top floor with nary a gaze at the crowd. Not to fight it out with my Doppelganger, but to sit cross-legged in the sand, open SicScript, and focus. I concentrated on drawing a thin stream of my arcana away from the pull of my affinity cores and guided it around my spiritual body. Or rather, forced it through. Carved it through, forming a loop that was much the same as my electrical circuit, but altered to mirror the Gates and Paths detailed in the digital humanoid floating before me.
For hours, I meditated. I engaged the conscious and subconscious in an effort to subdue the anger boiling my blood away. I concentrated on maintaining the Gates and Paths looping through my spiritual body. And, intermittently, I thought about what I’d demand from the headmaster in exchange for my tomes.
Other than his soul of course.