The crown prince of the elves did not look good. He wore a pair of simple shorts, revealing many bruises on his body. Where there were open wounds, black mana swirled right underneath. Derek was pretty sure that white part he saw in the leg was a broken bone. It made Derek’s stomach churn. Sylvar’s pointed ears poked out of his forest green hair. The slow rise and fall of his chest meant he was still alive.

The cleric fell to his knees, uttering a prayer. As he prayed, the runes puffed out of existence as his medallion let off a holy light. A wind, invisible to others, swept the symbols off the ground. The smell of rotting flesh lessened, but not by much.

“Go ahead, my princess. You are safe to approach.” Ezekiel took Milo’s hand as he climbed to his feet.

Clarissa was already at the table, holding Sylvar’s shoulder and trying to wake him. Her eyes held a pleading in them as she faced Ezekiel. “Can you heal him?”

Milo walked forward toward the table, tearing his gaze from Sylvar to Clarissa. “I know this can be distressing, but I must inspect what happened. Someone has tortured your brother, and there’s black mana at play.” Milo pointed to the skin. “If Ezekiel used his healing, it might make it worse.”

“How is that even possible?” Clarissa tried to hold herself as a princess, but she was terrified for her brother.

Milo pulled out his magnifying glass. “Ah, Princess.”

There was a lot said in those two words. When Evelyn had first joined the game at ten years old, she had no idea what to do. They played that into her character. A recluse elf who stayed with her family for a century wouldn’t know about adventuring or sleeping outside and keeping watch. She was sheltered, and some of Milo’s heavy tone implied that as he leaned over to examine a cut oozing with black mana on Sylvar’s arm.

Roll for arcana with advantage.

Derek grabbed the d20 and gave it a good shake. It landed on a natural twenty, which made him sigh. He rolled the other, and it landed on a four. The tension eased out of his body as time resumed. Only a little, because whatever Milo discovered couldn’t be good.

Milo went to work, holding his magnifying glass to his eye as he gathered bits of mana, experimenting with different cantrips. Clarissa had tears streaming down her face. Ezekiel moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. Grizzizzik walked over to a table, searching there.

“Princess?” It was the quietest, most respectful Derek had ever heard Grizzizzik say her title. Clarissa turned and saw the rogue was pointing toward a wooden staff. Clarissa gasped, moving toward the table.

Derek winced. It was the staff. It remained in the royal family of druids, which meant, for now, it was Sylvar’s. Whoever was torturing Sylvar must have also attempted to uncover the secrets of the staff. Only the royal family could use it, and right now, it was bonded to Sylvar.

The staff was a few inches taller than Clarissa herself. The staff, crafted from an aspen tree, had five thin branches at the top. Each glowed a different color of mana depending on the spell being cast.

Milo set down his magnifying glass, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Sylvar had a steady, if small, rising and falling chest.

“What is it doing to him?” Clarissa placed a hand on Sylvar’s shoulder.

The mana fusor dropped his hands, tears in his eyes. “This is… this is…torture. It….” Milo took a steadying breath before meeting Clarissa’s eyes. “Someone did this to him as part of a ritual. I sense the early signs of a ritual so dark that no one knows how to do it except those who seek it out. Those who are so malign, so twisted, that somehow evil is too good a term to use for them.”

Ezekiel slowly sank to his knees, clutching his medallion, his eyes wide. “Lichdom?”

Milo nodded, looking at Sylvar’s body. “Lichdom.”

Derek covered his face. “Shit.”

“Is he still alive? Can we save him?” The first of the tears fell from Clarissa’s eyes.

“From what I can tell, the ritual ended prematurely. Perhaps the necromancer got pushed out of his own lair because you kept making the bubble bigger as you got stronger,” Milo said.

Clarissa’s hands were trembling. “Can. We. Save. Him?”

Milo sighed. “Enough black mana has entered his body under the surface and stayed there. He is straddling the definition of living and undead. He is a bit of both. I’m afraid, in his extremely weakened state, if we tried a spell, the undead part of him would crumble and the rest of him would fall with it.”

Clarissa brought out a gold mana bottle. “Healing potion?”

Milo raised a hand. “Same principal. We don’t know enough, and it might kill him.”

“Black mana healing?” Grizzizzik asked.

Milo shook his head. “It might kill him the rest of the way and turn him undead permanently.”

“Fine.” Clarissa replaced the gold mana into her inventory. “Then we do this the old-fashioned way. Hraktar, get him off this table and into the other chamber. Ezekiel, douse this room with as much holy light as you can to cleanse it completely. We are not leaving this lair until my brother is back on his feet. I will heal him with my herbs and medicine kit.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Milo, go to that bookshelf and dump all the books from it into your void bag. I will do proper research of them further when we get back,” Ezekiel said.

“Do you think one of them has the ritual for lichdom?” Hraktar suppressed a shiver.

“No. I would have sensed it if it did.” Ezekiel headed toward the opening. “A book that evil, the necromancer would’ve taken it with him when he fled.”

With the jobs organized, Hraktar walked over to the table. He unfastened Sylvar’s metal cuffs before scooping him up and cradling him like a small child as he eased his way back to the main chamber. Derek noticed where the metal had touched Sylvar’s skin. There were deep purple bruises. Clarissa grabbed the staff, and Derek waited until she went behind Hraktar before following them to the bigger room.

Once they were in the main room, Hraktar eased Sylvar onto the floor as Clarissa took out a medicine kit, tending to his wounds with herbs and bandages.

Tyler leaned against the wall, watching the whole thing. Derek joined him, scratching his chin. “Is there some sort of Game Master help group? A place where people visit when their ideas get a little too dark? Like therapy? Pet puppies or kittens or something? Remember what it’s like to be happy?”

Tyler snorted, even though the humor wasn’t in his eyes. “I doubted we’d get this far. I didn’t think Prince Sylvar would be here on earth.” Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. “To my credit, I didn’t think this game was real.”

Derek sighed. “Yeah. I doubt anyone could have prepared you for that.”

“A character who has to live with the consequences of a failed attempt at the lich ritual was always intriguing to me, so I wanted to explore it. I just wrote the idea down in my notebook of ideas for a future character, then it turned into something that might happen to Sylvar. I didn’t think… I didn’t know…”

“It’s fine. Creepy that Chaos and Order picked up on that small idea, but I’m not judging,” Derek said.

“I am.”

Both Derek and Tyler jumped before turning to see Grizzizzik right behind them.

“Goddamn rogues,” Derek mumbled.

“I don’t know how else to prove I’m innocent in this, Grizzizzik,” Tyler said.

“Kids. The lot of you are kids. And yet you hold our destinies. It’s disgusting.” Grizzizzik moved away, pulling his hood up as he went to loot the room.

Nick walked over, his arms folded, as he took Grizzizzik’s place. “Is Grizzizzik okay?” Tyler asked.

“No,” Nick said.

“Thought not,” Derek said.

Nick sighed, dragging his fingers down the side of his face before getting up. There was a heaviness to his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Derek and Tyler watched Nick leave. “Do you think Nick is okay?” Derek asked.

“No.”

“We’ve got to find some way to help him.” Derek glanced over to see Sylvar’s leg covered in herbs, then watched as Clarissa eased the bone back into place. Derek and Tyler both scrunched their faces in sympathy.

“Yeah, that’s gross,” Tyler said.

“At least he’s unconscious.”

They were there for another twenty-five minutes. Milo had placed all the books on the bookshelf in his void bag before folding it up and returning it to his inventory. The metal fang from the cobra fascinated Grizzizzik. Hraktar sat cross-legged on the ground near Sylvar and Clarissa, watching the druid prince closely.

Ezekiel walked out of the smaller room, his clothes misting with holy light before he collapsed on a chair to rest. Clarissa worked tirelessly as she bandaged her older brother.

Rafael and Alejandra both sat on the stairs, whispering. Evelyn and Nick were on the other side of the room. Evelyn wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Nick. Derek and Tyler were in the middle of the wall, waiting.

The gasp brought everyone’s attention. Sylvar sat straight up, gripping his heart, staring around wildly. He was panting, but Clarissa grabbed his shoulders, looking into his violet eyes.

“Sylvar? It’s me. I’m here.”

Sylvar gasped in fear, but he studied Clarissa’s eyes with a mixture of confusion and wonder. “Clarissa?” He was the only one who could drop her royal title and not get a verbal lashing for it.

She smiled, tears in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

He reached out, taking a lock of her blonde hair. “You’re… desert.”

“Yes.” Her weak smile dropped. “And you’re not. We must get you to the van quickly, before the heat of the day takes your strength.”

Sylvar said nothing. Instead, he groaned, about to fall back again when Hraktar grabbed his shoulders to keep him up. Sylvar’s head bobbed as he fell unconscious.

“A good, long nap will do him wonders,” Milo said.

Clarissa nodded, taking a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes before pulling herself together. “Then we return to the van and get back. We’ve done what we came here to do.”

Evelyn walked forward, looping her arm around Clarissa’s before placing her head on her shoulder. Clarissa gave her a half hug, kissing the top of her head before the two of them made their way up the stairs. Ever so carefully, Hraktar picked up Sylvar and hoisted him over his shoulder. The elf prince was still unconscious. Derek tried to think that there was some color back in his cheeks, but he still looked quite pale, like death touched him.

They made their trek out of the tunnel, and Derek felt unsettled. Sylvar had survived. Time could only tell what the remainder of his long life would look like.

They walked out of the tunnel and into the blinding sunlight. Heat hit them all at once, and Derek could almost hear the small measure of life inside Sylvar getting sucked away.

Derek pulled out his key. “The van isn’t far.”

A loud roar pulled everyone’s attention. Derek spun, seeing a young desert dragon in flight, heading straight for them.

“What combat level is a young desert dragon?” Derek whispered urgently at Tyler.

Tyler already had his phone out. “Six. Level six. It can’t hurt us. It can’t get into the bubble.”

“Can the flames hit us?” Hraktar asked.

Clarissa shook her head. “Not in the bubble.”

“Everyone just keep walking,” Rafael said. “Let’s get back to the van.”

Hraktar kept his walking steady as they all headed toward the vehicle. The desert dragon tucked in its wings and dove to the ground. Derek was too curious not to watch, even as he kept walking.

Clarissa muttered her incantations again, and the bubble turned opaque, which helped Derek focus on what they needed. Sylvar was already weakened, and as a wood elf, he couldn’t stay out here much longer. Clarissa could barely do anything her first week on Earth.

The dragon slammed into the ground close to the base of the bubble. The ground trembled at the impact.

Evelyn glanced at Clarissa. “It can’t dig its way under the bubble, can it?”

“No.” Clarissa kept her gaze on the van. “I created a bubble. That means no entryway for any creature who doesn’t belong.”

They heard the digging, and Derek slowed his step, frowning. The digging didn’t stop. In fact, it was getting louder. The only way that could happen was if it was closer.

“Um…” Derek wasn’t sure how else to say it, but he was certain that dragon found a way into the bubble.

The group all slowed, as though they, too, sensed it.

“Impossible,” Clarissa whispered.

The dragon popped out of the ground, inside the bubble. It landed, his wings flared, as he roared at all of them. Derek’s heart skyrocketed as he stared at a level six desert dragon within fire breath range of everyone.

Roll for initiative.