About an hour later, I hear the warlock come back down and see him in the mirror going further downstairs. “Where are you going?” I find myself asking. Was I already at the stage of wanting to make conversation, or was it just boredom?

“Supper. None of your concern,” he replies, not stopping in his steps.

“Can I come?” I prod. “I don’t want to stay in this room any longer…”

“None of my concern,” he says a bit louder so I can hear him as he arrives to the floor below. A few moments later, he comes back up and fetches me with a frustrated growl.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“You would better be.” He jogs down the stairs, bringing me to a modest room clearly refurnished into a kitchen. A pot gently boils over an open flame in the corner while the warlock sets me down on the table. He grabs a wooden spoon and stirs the pot’s contents.

I focus on bits of my vision at once. It’s as good of an approximation as I have to turning my eyes.

“I am making vegetable broth,” he uncharacteristically shares. “Am I correct to assume you do not require nutrition in your state?”

The question surprises me. I feel no hunger… No need to sleep, either. “I think so? This body is so weird.”

He lifts up the spoon to his face and blows on it before tasting the broth. “Needs more spice,” he mutters to himself before glancing around him. “Where did I put the pepper...”

“I think it rolled under the cupboard with the glass pan,” I reply, spotting it at the edge of what I can see.

He throws me a look before getting down on the ground and feeling for it until he finds it. He looks at the shaker in his hand with a bit of surprise on his face. “How did you know it was there?”

“I mean… Right now I can’t really do much beyond looking around, so…” I find myself mourning the loss of my facial expressions.

“Hm.” He turns back to his meal, peppering it as he desires and tasting it again. He moves to fetch a bowl, in which he then pours some of the broth before sitting down at the table in silence.

I look at him, ruminating on my thoughts again, thinking back to the idea of intentionally changing him. I don’t feel comfortable with actually going through with this plan, but I keep it in the back of my mind in case of an emergency. He certainly is already more… empathic? Calm? Understanding? ...Simply more good than when he mercilessly transformed everyone and slaughtered our troop leader.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

...Yeah. I can’t allow myself to forget he’s done all that. And I’m in this pretty unique position, able to bring some retaliation to the table, right?

I wish I still had Henrietta to give me courage like when I was a kid, but right now I’m the stuffed toy in this situation… Hmm.

Maybe I should take a page out of her book and inspire him to become a better person the old fashioned way. Or at least try to do that first.

“So you live alone here? Why? Doesn’t it get lonely?” I tentatively prod for an answer.

He lets his gaze wander from his bowl to me and back again. “I do not appreciate you asking questions regarding personal matters.” He brings his spoon to his mouth a few times, eating in silence, before speaking up again. “The why is the result of my research being considered heretical by the fools at the castle, so I was forced out of my laboratory, and now have to make do with this pathetic, but at least easily defensible ruin.”

My tone switches to something slightly more worried. “What are you researching…?”

“Immortality.” He finishes his bowl, then taps his napkin on his mouth a few times before swiftly wiping once. He brings his dishes somewhere outside before grabbing me and walking up two floors.

The warlock presents me his laboratory. If downstairs was more comparable to a library and workshop, this room is filled with powerful machines that reach up to his chin, and would’ve certainly surpassed the top of my head even at my usual height. An intricate circle of glyphs made of chalk, erased, corrected and rewritten countless times if the blurry residue of past symbols is any indication, is etched in the middle of the room.

He walks around the room, tapping each device as he passes them by. “These serve to give me readings on each alteration I make on the spell I wrote on the floor. It is a work of careful, gradual adjustments.”

“How do you know it will work?” I ask as I take in the information.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. Nothing is impossible. If I will it, and assuming a certain sore king doesn’t find the smarts required to send obstacles that could actually delay me for more than a few minutes at a time, I could get this done within the decade.”

I huff. “This is all we were to you? Pawns to a king?”

“Were you not?” he replies immediately, raising an eyebrow.

I pause, finding no words to counter his claim. I’m still appalled, my tone coming off as more huffy than I wished. “You’ve killed countless people without even a second thought!”

He glares at me menacingly, his voice jumping to barely restrained anger. “I am not the one that sent these soldiers to their deaths. If anything, they should count themselves lucky that I’ve turned the majority of them into animals instead of taking their lives! THIS IS MERCY ON MY END!” He exhales slowly, regaining his composure and moving to the window. At the edge of the hill, I spot a lion and a panda fighting each other. No doubt he’s looking at them too. “And no sacrifice is too big or unjustified for the sake of advancement.”

I feel sick, terrified and angry. I don’t think before speaking, even as I see our connection turn the brightest pink. “You’re a monster.”

He suddenly lurches forward, dropping me on the ground. His knees shake for a moment before he pukes through the window.

The magic turns blue again and I realise what I’ve done.

After coughing out the last bits of his meal, he wipes off the bile with his sleeve and turns to look at me with a terrified expression.