Writing the runes was a long and tedious process. Jack had to move the quill slowly and carefully, often pausing to erase mistakes with a cloth and rewrite the symbols several times before they were correct. Everon was a patient teacher, gently correcting and guiding him, never becoming frustrated. Despite this, the task was exhausting. Each stroke of the quill seemed to sap Jack's energy, and by the time he had spent three hours painstakingly inscribing the runes, his hand throbbed, and he felt completely drained. The effort of channeling the magic into the symbols made the process even more exhausting as if the runes were pulling his strength into the ink. Jack stared at his work, feeling the weight of fatigue.
“What’s this for exactly, Everon?” Jack asked, grabbing a flask from his pouch and taking a quick drink. Everon sat on her throne, her head resting on her hand, watching him with a calm, almost bored expression.
"You said you needed information, Jack. This is the only way to ensure it's accurate," She leaned back in her throne, resting her head on her hand. She sighed, gesturing toward the severed head placed on the table before them. "I thought I had already explained this. You can't afford guesswork. The best way to get the information you seek is from the source itself, even if it's not exactly... alive anymore."
Jack shook his head. “I get that, Everon, but what I mean is, what’s gonna happen now? Why’d I spend three hours writing those runes around his head? Couldn’t you have done this with just a flick of your wrist?” He took another swig from his flask, glancing at the intricate symbols he’d painstakingly drawn, his frustration evident in the way he furrowed his brow. “Seems a bit much for something you could do in half the time.”
“No, Jack, I couldn’t have,” Everon replied with a smirk. Jack looked momentarily taken aback before she continued. “Yes, I could’ve done it in less than a second, and had all the information by now. But where would that leave you? No wiser, no more experienced. And that, darling, is the point.” She gestured lazily at the runes. “You don’t have my talent or magic, so you have to learn the hard way. And while I could’ve placed all the marks with a flick of my wrist, you wouldn’t have gained a thing from that, would you? I expect that after this little ceremony, you’ll have earned some experience—and who knows, maybe you’ll even level up,” she added, her words dripping with snarky amusement.
Jack just shook his head, frustrated. He didn’t care about leveling up; he cared about the three hours of his night wasted on this. But as he opened his mouth to protest, Everon cut him off with a sly smile, clearly enjoying herself.
w, you will need to recite this inscription. Be careful—mispronouncing even a single word could cause you great harm," Everon said, her voice slowing deliberately, each word weighted with warning. A piece of parchment floated gracefully in front of Jack, its surface filled with strange, unfamiliar symbols. He stared at the text, hesitant, his brow furrowing as he struggled to make sense of the foreign words.
Jack glanced at Everon, then back at the parchment. His mouth moved silently, testing the words before daring to speak them aloud. His lips shaped the sounds as if feeling their weight, hesitant to release them. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding slightly from the pressure, and finally spoke, his voice steady but cautious.
“Ek kref ek sálina at snúa aptr til þessa líkama ok vera bundin undir mín orð.”
As Jack spoke the ancient words, the runes around the head began to glow faintly, then brighter with each syllable he uttered. The air in the room thickened with tension, a pulsing energy rising from the inscribed symbols. With every word that left his mouth, the light intensified, casting an eerie green hue across the room, shadows flickering wildly on the walls.
By the time he reached the final phrase, the runes blazed with a deep emerald glow, vibrant and alive, humming with power. As Jack finished the incantation, the runes began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster, the symbols blurring together into a whirling vortex of green light. The energy in the room grew oppressive, pressing down on Jack’s chest, as if the very essence of the world around him was being pulled toward the spinning symbols. His skin tingled, the magic prickling the air, growing more intense with every second.
Suddenly, the runes froze. Time itself seemed to hang in that moment—everything was deathly still. Jack barely had time to react before the runes shattered in an explosion of light, breaking into a million glowing particles that filled the room like sparks from a dying fire. The fragments hung in the air, shimmering and beautiful, before slowly fading away into nothingness.
Jack stood frozen, staring at the scene in disbelief. His heart raced, his mind racing with worry that the ritual had failed. Panic crept in, and he turned to Everon, his mouth opening to ask what had gone wrong. But before he could speak, a sudden, gut-wrenching sound pierced the silence.
The eyes on the severed head snapped open, wide and unnatural, glowing with an intense, green light.
"Stop! St-op! Pl-please, stop! It h-hurts, I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry!" the voice wailed for a moment before, as if splashed with cold water, it froze and sucked in a sharp breath. Jack heard a whistling sound coming from the stump of its neck as it did, the eyes flicking around frantically before locking onto Jack. confusion then recognition struck it, and he howled in rage
"Y-you, y-you f-fucking bastard. Y-you’re the one th-that k-killed me. You p-piece of shit! I-I’m gonna f-fucking m-murder you... a-and that s-shitty l-little brat too! I’ll s-skin those k-kids and h-hang them up!" the voice raged starting to annoy Jack, Everon waved her ahdn and the voice stopped its lips-locked shut as it struggled to speak.
Jack looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. "So, what the hell am I supposed to do now?"
“Simple,” Everon replied with a slight smirk, “place the pen on his head.”
Jack gave a reluctant nod and stepped forward. The severed head twitched violently, its mouth straining in a muffled yell, but Jack pressed on. As soon as the pen's tip made contact with the cold, pale flesh, the runes around the head began to reform. The ink, which had shattered into glowing particles earlier, started to swirl back together like threads of light, knitting themselves into intricate patterns once more. Slowly, they wrapped around the head, spiraling in a controlled dance of magic.
The soft green glow returned, this time emanating from the gem in the pen. It pulsed gently, syncing with the restored runes, which now shimmered with a renewed vitality. The tension in the air lessened, and as the light from the pen intensified, the head’s wild thrashing stopped. Its eyes, which had been filled with furious, panicked light, now shifted to a dull green glow. The once chaotic energy had settled, the magic holding it in place like an invisible tether.
“Great,” Everon said, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Now, ask it a question.”
Jack hesitated for a moment, stepping back cautiously as he eyed the now eerily calm head, its glowing eyes staring blankly forward, waiting. Jack thought carefully before speaking and skiing his question
“Who are you?” Jack asked, his voice firm. As the words left his mouth, he noticed one of the six segments of the glowing runes surrounding the head fade from a bright green to a dull, lifeless hue. His eyes narrowed as he studied the change, the soft hum of the magic weakening in that section.
The head squirmed, fighting to keep its mouth closed, but the remaining runes flared brighter, their green light pulsing like a heartbeat. Finally, the magic forced the words out. “My name… Vorak,” the head snapped, venom dripping from his voice.
Jack frowned, realizing the issue. There were six segments to the rune circle, and with each one that dimmed, a question was used up. It appeared that the ritual took the questions literally, answering only what was explicitly asked. As the light from the first segment faded completely, Jack knew he’d have to choose his next questions more carefully.
“What is the name of the organization you work for and what is their goal?” Jack hoped.
he head squirmed, struggling as the glow around the runes brightened before it snapped, “We are the Red Fang Slavers, and we were tasked with kidnapping any Beastkin we could get our hands on.” The last words were spat out with a snarl, dripping with venom. Jack took in the information, his mind working quickly.
So, they were slavers, and Beastkin were their targets. Jack had already suspected as much, but it was better to have confirmation. He frowned, realizing he had only three questions left. He needed to make sure each one counted.
After a moment of thought, Jack asked, “Where are the Red Fang Slavers based?”
The head twitched, its jaw clenching before it reluctantly spat out, “Southwest of the city… Mistfeather.” The words were barked in frustration, and another segment of the glowing runes shattered.
Jack mentally noted the location, though he had no idea where Mistfeather was. He could ask around and find out later. He felt a pang of frustration four questions down, two left.
He took a deep breath, his mind racing to decide on the next question. Better to know how deep in trouble he was, he figured. “Are you connected to the Mythra ambassador that’s at Stormhaven?” Jack asked, remembering a piece of information Ruben had mentioned earlier.
The head responded quickly, almost too quickly. “I don’t know,” it spat out with a smug, shit-eating grin. Jack’s heart sank as the runes dimmed, another segment fading.
“Damn it,” Jack cursed under his breath. He should’ve known better. Of course, someone this low-ranking wouldn’t have access to such critical, damning information. How could he waste one of his last questions on something like that? He clenched his fists, berating himself silently. He had just one question left, and he’d blown his chance at learning something truly useful
Jack thought hard, taking several long moments as the head continued to grin and laugh at him. Each chuckle scraped against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He really wished Everon would shut him up again, but the more the head taunted, the angrier Jack got. His grip on the pen tightened, knuckles white, the frustration bubbling up inside him like a storm ready to burst.
"Y-you’re really th-thinkin’ hard, ain’t ya?" the head sneered, its eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "B-bet you feel real clever, a-askin’ all them q-questions. Too bad you’re a d-damn fool who ain’t got a c-clue how deep you are."
Jack’s jaw clenched, and he snapped. “You know what, you sorry sack of shit? Laugh all you damn want, but remember this—when we’re done, your worthless ass is headin' right back to whatever hellhole spat you out, and I’m goin' back to eat some real food, somethin’ you ain’t never gonna taste again. You? You’ll be nothin’ but a dead, useless piece of trash, just like you always were. So keep runnin’ that mouth while you can, 'cause it ain't gonna matter once you're gone.” Jack snapped, growling through clenched teeth, cutting the head off before it could taunt him further. “How high up the command structure is Morak?” he barked, his patience gone.
The head twisted violently, as if trying to resist the pull of the magic, but it spat out the answer through gritted teeth. “He’s a… a sergeant. He ain’t that far up the ladder,” it snarled, the final rune segment cracking and shattering with an audible snap.
Jack watched as the last glow faded from the runes, but something shifted in Vorak’s eyes—what had been arrogance and mockery drained away, leaving behind raw, primal fear. The head’s lips trembled, his bravado crumbling as the reality of his situation sank in.
“No, p-please… don’t send me back,” Vorak’s voice wavered, the stutter returning, but this time laced with terror. His eyes darted wildly, pleading, as if searching for any hint of mercy. “I c-can help you! I’ll t-tell you more, anything you want! J-just don’t… don’t send me back there! You d-don’t know what it’s like! P-please!” His voice broke, desperation dripping from every word as the inevitability of his fate washed over him.
As Vorak's desperate pleas filled the air, his voice began to grow weaker, his soul starting to depart. “P-please, I’ll do anything… d-don’t send me back… you don’t understand…” he stammered, his words trembling as he realized his time was up.
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Jack watched, the anger fading from his face, replaced by a cold, satisfied smile. He stepped back, arms crossing over his chest as the head’s eyes rolled back, the last traces of green light flickering and dimming. Vorak’s words slurred, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream as his essence began to vanish.
The once-mocking eyes turned blank, the head slumping lifelessly on the table with a final, pitiful twitch. Jack’s smile widened, the tension in the room dissipating as the severed head fell still, nothing more than a hollow shell.
EBehind Jack, Everon clapped slowly, a soft chuckle escaping her as she watched him with a wide, knowing smile. "Good job, Jack. I'm proud of you," she said, her voice smooth, each word precisely pronounced. Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she leaned back slightly, observing him.
“Do you think you’ve learned enough?” she asked, her smile widening as if she already knew the answer.
Jack shook his head, his frustration clear as his shoulders tensed. “Some, but I messed up,” he muttered. “Let my emotions get the best of me.” He shot a glance at Everon, frowning. “Why didn’t you shut him up again, huh?” There was a touch of accusation in his voice, though it was more exhaustion than anger.
Everon laughed lightly, her smile sharp. “Simple, darling—you need to learn. And you also need to learn to keep that temper of yours in check. You've got it under control when you're fighting, but in other parts of your life?" She raised an eyebrow. "Not so much.”Jack frowned, thinking over her words. He could see her point, but part of him didn’t fully agree. He knew people like that calm, controlled but that was never going to be him. Not in the way she wanted.
“Alright, can I leave now? God, it must be near daylight already,” Jack said with a yawn, his exhaustion clear. He was mentally drained, more than physically, and all he wanted was to sleep.
Everon chuckled softly. “No need to worry. Time in here is frozen. It’d be rather suspicious if you disappeared for twelve hours, wouldn’t it?”
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Twelve hours?” he muttered, stunned. He had thought it had only been four. No wonder he felt like he’d been run ragged. He was done—completely spent.
“Can you please let me out? I need sleep,” he asked, his voice a bit pleading now. All he wanted was to collapse and forget the whole ordeal, at least for a while.
Everon touched her cheek, a wide smile spreading across her face. “I will—after you complete the level-up ceremony.”
A blank sheet of parchment floated gently in front of Jack. He sighed, feeling the weight of his exhaustion but knowing he didn’t have much choice. Taking his pen, he pricked his finger, smudging the paper with blood as he began muttering the incantations. The words felt heavy on his tongue, the ritual draining what little energy he had left, but he pressed on, determined to get it over with.
{Class leveled up: Warrior Lv 9}
{Class leveled up: Pactbinder Lv 5}
{New skill acquired: Serpent Intuition (Basic Rank)}
{New skill acquired: Rapid Runic Scribing (Advanced Rank)}
[Name: Jack Roger Gender: Male] [Status: Alive Race: Human] [Age: 24]
[Titles: None]
[Class: Warrior Lv 9, Pactbinder Lv 5]
[Skills: Warrior- Iron Will (Advanced Rank), Precision Strike (Basic Rank), Multi-Strike (Advanced Rank), Quick Block (Basic Rank), Counter-Strike (Advanced Rank) Pactbinder- Eldritch Echo: Destruction (Basic Rank), Serpent Intuition (Basic Rank), Rapid Runic Scribing (Advanced Rank)]
The blood flowed, surprising Jack as two level-ups registered—both for his Warrior and Pactbinder classes. Two new skills manifested, and Jack couldn’t help but feel a small sense of gratification. He had struggled against the slavers, and he knew it was only through quick thinking, some luck, and a rush of adrenaline that he made it out alive. Reflecting on the battle, he realized something: they fought like individuals, not as a coordinated group. If they had rushed him together or backed each other up properly, he wouldn’t have survived. That thought alone made him appreciate the gains he’d just earned—it felt worth enduring Vorak's vile voice.
One of his new skills was straightforward: [Rapid Runic Scribing]. It allowed him to draw runes at a much faster pace, something that could save him precious time in future battles. The idea of being able to activate runes quickly was a clear and practical improvement. It gave him a tactical edge—speed could be the difference between life and death.
The other skill, however, was more puzzling. [Serpent Intuition]. Jack didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t a surge of power or clarity, nothing tangible that told him what the skill did. He furrowed his brow, confused, trying to understand how it worked. It felt… dormant, like something waiting to activate under the right circumstances. He had no idea what to expect from it, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.
Jack glanced over at Everon, half-expecting her to explain, but her knowing smile didn’t offer much in the way of answers. He sighed, still unsure what to make of this new skill, but he supposed he’d find out soon enough.
“Why did I get a snake-themed skill from my class with you?” Jack asked, still confused by the new ability and the strange tattoo he’d recently acquired. He knew Everon was a witch, and the pact they shared had changed him in ways he was still figuring out, but this felt different.
Before he could get any further in his thoughts, Jack turned to look at Everon—only to find she was gone. The room had vanished, replaced by an open field, and the sudden shift hit him like a punch in the gut. Dizziness washed over him, disorienting him completely. Jack’s stomach churned violently, and before he could stop himself, he doubled over and puked, the remains of his last meal spilling onto the ground.
The nausea was overwhelming, like the world had tilted off its axis, leaving him struggling to steady himself. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his legs shaking as he fought to regain his balance. That was a rude way to end a conversation, Jack thought bitterly, still catching his breath. His head throbbed, and everything seemed too bright, too loud for a moment.
As he blinked through the haze, Jack’s eyes fell on something familiar lying in the grass—Vorak’s severed head, motionless on the ground. Great, he thought with a sigh, still wiping his mouth as the nausea began to subside.
Next to the head, something else caught his attention: a weathered book with a faded title embossed on the cover, Grimiroa of Runic Rituals. As Jack crouched down to pick up the book, he noticed a folded note tucked inside the cover, the parchment crisp and yellowed with age. Unfolding it, he saw the neat, looping script written in an old-fashioned, Victorian style:
"Sorry to cut your visit short, but this should aid you well, Jack. Remember our deal.
With love, Everon."
He stared at the note for a moment, a mix of frustration and amusement washing over him. Of course she’d leave something cryptic like this behind. Shaking his head, Jack tucked the note and the book into his pouch, its weight a subtle reminder of the pact he had entered into.
With that done, he shifted his focus back to Vorak’s head lying in the grass, and the strange figures approaching from the lake’s shore.
The head was starting to smell, the sour stench of decay hanging in the air. Jack grabbed it, wondering what he should do with the thing, when a low sound caught his attention from the lake. He turned quickly, eyes narrowing as four figures emerged from the water’s edge.
They stood about four feet tall, their thin, wiry bodies covered in slimy, moss-clad skin. Algae clung to their limbs, trailing down their backs like wet hair. Their long arms were tipped with razor-sharp claws, gleaming faintly in the fading light. Their skin had an oily, almost slick sheen, glistening in the moonlight, and glowing markings spread across their bodies in intricate, shifting patterns. They had white, soulless eyes that locked onto Jack, and their mouths were filled with rows of jagged, razor-like teeth, sharp as those of a deep-sea angler fish. Their hungry grins twisted unnervingly, each one dripping with menace.
Jack didn’t need to think twice. These were the Fin Stalkers Ruben had warned him about. The predators of the lake, scavengers and opportunists, but deadly nonetheless.
He glanced down at Vorak’s head, then back at the approaching creatures. An idea sparked in his mind, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Slowly, Jack reached for his pouch, his fingers brushing the handle of his spear, but then he noticed something—their gaze wasn’t on him. It was locked on the head.
A wicked smile spread across Jack’s face as he shifted his weight, drawing his leg back. Without hesitation, he punted Vorak’s head like a ball, sending it sailing through the air. The Fin Stalkers screeched in unison, their high-pitched cries filling the night as they lunged for the head, claws scraping against each other as they fought to be the first to sink their teeth into it.
Their once eerie, graceful movements turned savage and frenzied, tearing into the head with reckless abandon. Teeth ripped through flesh, claws slashed through bone, and the creatures snarled and snapped at one another, blood splattering across the shore in a vicious scramble. They tore into Vorak’s remains, gnashing and tearing, their screeches echoing across the lake.
Jack shook his head, chuckling softly as he turned and walked away from the brutal scene, heading back toward the house. He didn’t even look back.
____________
Everon sighed, exhaustion creeping over her. Yes, her power had returned, and she felt stronger—more alive—but it was a far cry from her full strength. She was only 1% recovered, and after the initial flood of energy, the flow had slowed to a trickle. Helping Jack by using Temporal Dissociation to aid him had drained her further.
She glanced down at her hand, still pristine but looking slightly faded at the edges. She had helped Jack more than she intended—no doubt, including that book. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she shifted her gaze to the Web of Fate that stretched out before her. Everon eyes traced the Web of Fate stretched before her, a dazzlingly intricate weave of countless threads, each representing a life, a destiny. Jack’s thread stood out, glowing brighter than before, pulsing with a steady light that reflected his growing potential. Around his thread were others—threads that represented the lives of those he had recently interacted with. They moved in and out of his path, weaving close to his fate before drifting off again.
These nearby threads glowed with their own energy, though none as brightly as Jack’s. Some were thicker, their potential more pronounced, while others flickered faintly, their futures less certain. Everon could see the subtle connections forming—each interaction Jack had could shift the course of their lives, pushing them toward new paths or deeper into the web.
There was potential in these threads, potential that even she couldn’t fully predict. Each knot where their fates tangled with Jack’s held meaning, though the exact outcomes were still hidden in the complexity of the web. Everon gaze lingered on them, considering the possibilities and how Jack’s actions could shape not only his own future but those around him.
Satisfied, she let out a soft sigh and flicked the web aside, the vision of tangled destinies fading from her mind. Slouching back into her throne.Her plan was progressing steadily, and Everon knew it would grow stronger every day, until the moment she finally reclaimed her own body. But Jack still had much to learn, and rushing his growth would be unwise. Shifting slightly, she peered into the veil, her gaze falling upon the house where they all resided. Each person inside had potential, but some more than others.
Thali, the young bear beastkin, drew her attention first. The girl had power, the spark of a future witch or shaman, but she was still too young, too raw. Her magic was unshaped, like clay waiting to be molded. In time, Thali could become something formidable, but not now. Everon dismissed her for the moment—too soon, too incomplete.
Her gaze moved to Charlet. An old soul, much older than the others, likely nearing a thousand years. Charlet had once been a formidable Green Mage, but her magic was fading, just like her body. The signs of age were taking their toll. Her power, while still significant, was slipping away, and though she had great potential in her youth, she would not make a suitable companion for Jack. Charlet was too far along her own path, her strength fading fast.
Next, Everon’s focus turned to Julian. The girl was interesting—there was undoubtedly magic in her blood, possibly from an ancient immortal lineage like a djinn. She had the potential to become a powerful sorceress, but her soul was fragile. Too fragile. Her spirit was delicate, easily swayed by the chaos around her. Julian had the spark but lacked the resilience needed to walk the dangerous path ahead.
Finally, Everon’s eyes settled on Kadean, the beastkin. Unlike the others, Kadean’s potential was undeniable. His power reminded her of the Beast King of old, the legendary figure whose strength and magic were unmatched. Kadean had the makings of an archmage, should he choose to focus and develop his abilities. His magic was raw, but the glow was unmistakable. If properly guided, he could become a force akin to the mages of ancient times, a powerful ally—and the perfect companion to aid Jack’s growth.
Everon smiled. Kadean had both the talent and potential to rise, but for now, his body was damaged, worn from the poison and infection coursing through him. It would take weeks of natural healing for his body to fully recover. The potions of this age were strange, Everon mused. They didn’t heal in the traditional sense; instead, they worked like time-reversing agents, undoing damage by returning the body to its previous state. A curious development she wanted to study, but not now.
With a flick of her hand, she whispered a few words, her mind already planning her next steps."𐎡𐎱𐎨𐎭𐎦 𐏂𐎧𐎨𐎽 𐎮𐎭𐎤 𐏂𐎮 𐎭𐎤𐎼," Everon whispered softly, her ancient words carrying a subtle power. As the incantation left her lips, a soft glow enveloped Kadean’s body. The poison and infection that had ravaged him were eradicated, melting away under the glow’s gentle warmth. His face, once tense with pain, relaxed, and a look of relief settled across his features. His recovery, though still requiring time, was greatly accelerated. By tomorrow, he should awaken.
Everon smiled faintly, satisfied with the result, but the effort drained her. Her power was still too weak to maintain for long. She sighed, leaning back into her throne, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She had done enough for now—enough to aid Jack. The rest was in his hands.