Chapter 2: Binding a Lich

Soft. Like the touch of fine silk on his hand. Trembling and with a flush of warmth, that was what the bared stomach of the girl felt like to Zane. “Forgive me,” he whispered, gently caressing her stomach. Slowly moving his hand upward, he traced the two sheens of her white orbs. They were firm, still untouched by age. He rested his hand in the midst of the two curves of her breasts, a little to the left, just right where her heart was.

“Mmmgflh!” The bound girl murmured against the black cloth tied around her mouth. With that gag, Zane couldn’t exactly make out the words and neither could she scream too loudly. Her eyes could only widen in fear at what was about to happen.

In his free hand, the hand that was not resting against her beating heart, Zane held a black dagger with a bone white hilt. On the black blade of the weapon, half an arm’s length, there were runes carved onto it. They were runes made to contain a soul.

Removing his hand from her chest, Zane slashed the dagger at his palm in one quick motion, letting the blood flow free. With his bleeding palm, he made a blood print onto the girl’s face, making her scream out in fear against the gag even more. Then he made another blood print, this time on the flesh where her heart-blood flowed.        

The heart and the head, the most crucial parts to an existence, to a being. They were the containers for the soul.

“You are dragging this out too long, Zane,” Father said from behind. “Hurry it up. We need to leave the altar soon.”

“Forgive me,” Zane whispered, though in truth, his words were merely a façade. Zane could only hold the barest trace of any Love, Passion, or Sentiment. All of that had belonged to the domain of Primus, whom he had left sealed in the orbicular room.

Then he brought the dagger down into her chest. But everything froze while the dagger was still making its way down into her chest. The weapon stopped midway, as did the breaths of the girl bound to the black altar by chains. The flickering of the torches lit at the four corners of the room also froze. As did Zane’s breath. As did his father’s breaths. Everything in the room had become frozen.

But that was only because Zane’s mind had sped up. Zane was once more inside his mind.

Omnus was inside a large expanse of a room made up of five interconnected domains, each domain with its differences.

A huge library with its mostly empty shelves, filled only by a few hundred or so books. It was the domain of Quintus who stood for Practicality, Cunning, and Intelligence. All the books Zane had ever read and all the knowledge he would know would eventually make its way into the shelves of the library, most of them slowly, some of them quickly, but all of them eventually.

A cobbled stone courtyard filled with racks of weapons. Straw dummies for weapons practice, bullseyes for archery practice, and so on. On the racks, there were axes, longswords, short swords, daggers, bows, staves, and every sorts of weapons Zane had heard of or learned of in his fourteen years of life. This was the domain of Sextus who stood for Aptitude, Prowess, and Talent.

An elegant garden, furnished by only the most expensive objects. Intricately carved vases resting on polished mahogany tables. Stone benches scattered all around, but always in a subtle pattern. And around them all were scarlet flowers, similar to roses, but with more petals and the stalk a deep blue color. They were Scrayus flowers known for nobility. This was the domain of Tertius who stood for Disposition, Poise, and Conduct.

A barren land where rivers of liquid fire twined into each other, where strange crackles of lightning lit up the air with its purple flashes, where blood splattered the ground, slowly mixing into the rivers. This was the domain of Quartus with his Fury, Vengeance, and Wrath.

A small mountain and atop its night skies, there were hundreds of stars shining brightly, their rays dancing upon the mountain. This was the domain of Secondus with his Determination, Will, and Survival.

And in between all five of these domains, there were five large white circles where the five Zanes stood, each with his back turned toward his own domain. At the middle of one of the white circles, there was a floating black orb known as a Surge with two spikes protruding from it. Around the Surge, four smaller black orbs known as the Foci orbited around steadily.

The black Surge was unique to the Noxus bloodline. It was a Surge for the Darkness and Death Essences. Unlike other normal Darkness and Death Surges, the Surge was dotted with blood spots all over its spherical body. It was a Surge that could absorb three Essences—Blood, Death, and Darkness.

Another interesting sight were the four different colored Surges in the other four white circles. A red Surge that could absorb Fire Essences. A blue Surge that could absorb Water Essences. A brown Surge that could absorb Earth Essences. And a white Surge that could absorb Light Essences. And around each of those four Surges, two Foci orbited around and a single spike protruded from the Surges.        

“Who shall be the ones to take control and kill the sacrificial girl?” Quintus asked lazily, a hand ruffling his silvery white hair, which was similar in both color and shape to all the other Zanes. “Before, it was Sextus and I who were in control. But given the nature of this task, I am certainly not suited for it.”

“Only three of the Omnus can be in control at any given time, but we do not need three this time. Thus, Tertius and I shall go. Conduct and Determination seem suitable for this task,” Secondus said, his face a mask of determination as usual.

“What! I certainly do not agree with this combination,” Tertius complained. “I am Conduct, Disposition, and Poise. There is simply no way I will stain my hands with the blood of a maiden, especially one who is but fifteen years old.” His arms perfectly folded onto each other, and he stood as straight as a noble tree which seemed to defy the skies themselves. “I suggest Secondus and Quartus whose Fury certainly is suitable for this task.”  

Quintus sighed lazily. “Very well, we cannot keep Father waiting too long. Our mind acceleration can only last so long. In fact, we have already wasted over a minute out of the two minutes that we can hold the acceleration before we tire.”

Omnus nodded to each other. All of them knew that they were still far too weak. And although their Magus Domain was incomparably large unlike the other Magus, their Surge and Foci were still weak.

Even with the special power granted with the combination of their five minds and their five domains, they still could not hold a candle to their Father’s power. More so, the candle that could be held to their Father would be wickless.    

Omus inspected the floating black orb that was their Surge. On a closer look, there were two black spikes on the surface of the Surge. Along with the four orbiting black spheres, the Foci, they represented their Magus rank.  

Omnus was a Fourth Foci Darkness and Blood and Death Magus of the Second Rank. Every ten Foci a Magus created, it would add a unique spike to their Surge and in the process, devour the ten Foci. In theory, a Magus could go on indefinitely adding spikes to their Surge and at the same time increasing its size, but there were limits. The lifespan of a Magus which was the same as a non-Magus, for example, was but one of the limits. And each new spike a Magus added to his Surge, the difficulties would only increase.

“We will see you later, Omnus,” said the merged Secondus and Quartus.  

The world unfroze itself, and Zane continued stabbing the black dagger downward into the maiden’s heart. Her flesh and muscles resisted the dagger’s descent. And the girl attempted to break free of her chains. But it was all for naught. She was too bound up tightly to the Runic Altar. No matter how much she struggled, it was all for naught. Futile.

Her struggles grew more and more furious as the dagger reached her heart, finally passing through her sternum. The ritual for creating a lich had to be done carefully and slowly. Zane had to make sure that the maiden did not die too quickly.

Lowering his head, he placed a bloody palm onto her face. Then Zane opened his Surge free, channeling the pure untransformed magic outward from his palm. A black auric flame, tinged with Darkness and Death Essences, a heritage of his Noxus bloodline, instantly surrounded her head.

Like a shroud of black flames, the magic covered her entire head, some of it entering through her nose, ears, and eyes. The screams became louder, but it was as if Zane was deaf to them. Deaf to the whole world.

There was only an angry scowl on his face, mixed with determination. It was a combination of Secondus and Quartus.

The chains rattled, shaking with the fierce struggles of the maiden whose very insides, and whose very soul was being scoured by the black magic. Her arms and legs were rubbed raw from her continuous struggles against the chains.

Zane continued on, slowly digging the dagger deeper into her heart. He met the girl’s twin blue eyes, dazed and fearful. Zane knew that when using magic, just like his Father’s eyes, his own scarlet eyes would glow with a pale light.  

The muffled scream from the girl grew louder, turning into one single continuous screaming. Zane finally felt no more resistance as her heart was fully pierced by the dagger. Then from her heart, the black auric flame of his magic exploded outward, spreading beyond ten steps of the altar. The flame, having been spread so far outward, dispersed into a fine black mist. They settled around in the air for a few seconds before all of them rushed back toward Zane.

Most of the black mist entered into the black dagger where the runes for containing a soul was carved. As for the remaining mist, they entered through Zane’s opened mouth and through his two nostrils.

The whole world went silent for Zane. No, Zane realized after a long moment. It was simply he who had become deaf to the world. Then the sounds came rushing back, and Zane heard a loud screaming. His screaming.

An agonizing pain was tearing through his whole body and his heart felt as if it was being dug out by a pick. For a long moment, Zane continued screaming. All the determination and all the fury that Secondus and Quartus held could not suppress the pain. Not even all the determination and the fury of the world could have. It was just how much pain Zane was in. His whole body was trembling, convulsing every few seconds or so. And halfway in, Zane realized that he had fell down onto his knees, his hand still holding the glowing black dagger.

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After a long moment, the pain finally receded, and the few breaths he could take finally coming easier to Zane. His throat felt raw and scratched while his legs still trembled from the weakness.

Taking a deep breath, Zane stood up and inspected the maiden bound to the altar. He could no longer hear her breathing. The heaves of her chest and breasts were no longer there. She would no longer move. Finally, Zane closed his Surge, stopping the magic from flowing freely inside him.

“Proceed to the next step now, Zane,” his Father said from a small distance behind him. About fifteen steps away, Zane realized. It had kept him out of range from all that happened.

Walking forward, Zane observed the Runic Altar and the black marbled bed where the maiden was bound to. There were four flights of steps that led away from the Runic Altar, each set of seven steps located on each side of the squarish altar.

Zane formed an even angrier scowl. The girl’s death reminded Zane of how he had killed—no, murdered—his mother. Of how he had killed his sister. And of his brother’s death. They had all been innocents. His mother had been pure and sweet. And the only thing Zane had ever received from her was unconditional love. Were they killed because the three of them had not been born as Magus? Was that why Father chose to sacrifice them so easily?

Zane descended down the steps that led to a wooden red coffin in the middle of the room. The coffin was made plainly with only the colours of the Noxus engraved onto the lid. The insignia of the Noxus was a greyish black skull with an even darker dagger pierced through the frontal lobe.      

Pushing the lid of the casket aside with some effort, Zane found himself staring at the corpse of a woman. The body was fully naked, eyes closed, and black curls of hair framed her oval face. Up close, Zane could see that the woman had long lashes. He couldn’t hear any breathing from her though.

Turning away, Zane looked toward his father. “Why a woman, Father?” he asked. Although the woman had a good set of tits on her, full and high, Zane would have preferred a stronger body. Perhaps the body of a warrior and the mind of a mage.

“The first lich you bind to your will is always the hardest, and centuries of the Noxus descendants have all chosen their first lich to be of the opposite sex, for it is much easier on the soul. In addition, tradition must be kept.” Fixing his grey-hair which he wore into a plaited horsetail style, Father curled a twisted smile. “Not to worry. The woman may not look like it, but when she was still alive a few days ago, she was both a warrior and a mage. Is she not to your liking, son?”  

There was a force behind that question, as if his Father was daring Zane to disagree. It was a provocation Zane nearly fell for as the cold anger grasped at his heart.

“Calm yourself, Quartus. It is not yet time,” Secondus said from within the mind, a note of warning in his voice.  

“Indeed, Quartus. Calm yourself,” Quintus also warned, his voice fainter due to not being the one in control.

“I know that!” Quartus hissed out the words.

“Very well,” Zane said, his voice smooth with a slight determination. Thankfully, the suppressed anger had not escaped into the words. Quartus always made Zane short-tempered and impatient.

Rubbing the bony hilt of the dagger, Zane went back once more to the red casket with its black skull insignia. With a swift motion, he stabbed the dagger into the heart of the body, this time a cold rage behind the dagger. The force of it carried the dagger all the way to the heart.

Opening his Surge once more, Zane released the soul residing in the dagger into the dead body. From the wound Zane had carved opened, the black mist entered the body. A second. Two seconds. The body began trembling, then convulsing, her pelvic thrusting so high into the air that Zane almost thought the corpse was trying to escape.

Finally, the body settled down inside the black cushioned lining of the casket. Zane waited for a few more seconds, making sure that all of the black mist from the dagger had transferred into the body. Then he freed the dagger, leaving a bright red wound on her chest.    

Holding the dagger easily in a hand, Zane continued watching the dead body for any signs of movement. Minutes passed and still no sign. Had he failed?

Zane spun around, searching for any signs on his Father’s face. But there was only that cold pale face that told of nothing. Turning back to the casket, Zane gritted his teeth, looking down at the still dead body.

“Wake up, damn you!” he said through gritted teeth. A palm raised, Zane sent a pure arc of magic into the dead body, hoping to jolt the soul awake.

The body convulsed continuously for three seconds as Zane kept pouring his magic into the dead woman. “WAKE, DAMN YOU!”

The eyes opened. A soft blue, different from the sacrificial maiden’s dark blue. Her pale lips, lips that could have only belonged to the dead, opened widely. Her neck craned toward Zane, and he met her eyes with his own scarlet colours.

Then she began screeching in a voice so loud Zane thought his eardrums would shatter from the noise. Zane flinched backward a step, but then stepped forward again. He moved closer, until he could feel the cold breath of the dead woman—no, the cold breath of the lich.

Zane peered into those soft blue eyes of the lich, and they peered back.

The lich showed Zane of her memories of the Netherals, the world where the souls of the dead ran amok. The lich showed him of her past memories, when she was still of the living.  The lich showed him of the memories of the sacrificial maiden. Memories that tore at Zane, scratched at him.

It showed him memories of her fear, of the dread that had chilled her in the last moments of her life. Of the shivers that ran down her spine. Of the pain of her heart being torn apart by the dagger. Of everything. Of the lives that flashed before her.

How dare he rip apart her resting place! How dare he kill her! How dare he!

“Is that all you can show me?” Zane asked, his voice a thunderous whisper. “I can show you much more!”

And Zane showed her. He showed her of his darkest memories. Of the time he had spent in the perpetual darkness of the dungeon. Of the guilt and fear that had torn him apart when he first stained his hands with the blood of his own mother. Of the dead silence of his sister who never knew that her own brother had murdered her. Of the begging forgiveness that was a thousand blades cutting into him.

Zane showed the lich. He showed her everything, laying all the secrets bare. Of the surprise that had ripped him apart when he saw his little brother dead, when he had found the lies of his Father’s words. And of how his mind had shattered into seven different pieces.

And he sent a thought to himself. And to the lich. It was the thought of his self-assured destiny.

There is a reason why I am going to rule HavenFall. And that is because it is me. My Omnus.

Every single queen and king that dares stand in my way. Every single bastard that has fucked me over. Every beast, goblins, orcs, or humans that stand in my way. I will kill them all. Kill their grandmothers, kill their grandfathers, kill their mothers, kill their cousins, kill their sons and daughters, kill their dogs. Down to the last goat and chicken, I will kill them all.

And if even the Netherals dare stand in my way. I will break through it.

And in the end, I will find the bliss that I dearly wish for, that I dearly seek. A bliss for the bloodshed of HavenFall to end. A bliss for my mother, my sister, and my brother. And finally, a bliss for myself.

I will break all the wars of HavenFall.

Zane broke free from the gaze of the Lich, and it stopped her screeching. The soul of the sacrificial maiden had settled down. And there was an invisible bond Zane could feel toward the lich. The feeling was from the part of the Lich’s soul that had been absorbed into his body, into his Surge, and into his very soul.

“Who am I?” the Lich trembled, confusion cutting across her face, and her voice soft and cool just like her naked corpse. She was longer possessed by the Netherals, and her memories were still most likely a blur.

“The question you should be asking is what am I?” Zane met her similarly confused eyes. “But no matter, I will answer you. You are now the servant of Prince Gladius Zane Noxus, the future ruler of HavenFall.”

Behind Zane, Father burst into a cold laughter at his proclamation.

It didn’t matter to Zane though. There was a cold determination with a mix of cold anger inside him. Like something dead that had been raised into being along with the lich.

“Do not forget to seal the deal, my son,” Father said. “Make sure to fuck the virgin lich. It will bind her more tightly to you.”

At that, King Gladius Balan Noxus left Zane standing with the lich all alone, as remnants of his laughter resounded throughout the Runic Altar room.

“Ah shit. So that is the real reason why the first lich is of the opposite sex?” Quintus said from within the mind, snapping shut the book he was reading inside his domain. “It seems like our knowledge is still lacking, Omnus.”

“I am lost, Omnus. I have no clue how to conduct myself…onto a lich,” Tertius said.

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AN:    In case I didn't make the implications too clear. The term Omnus refers to the main merged personalities of Zane. It can also refer to all the "Zanes" in a group.

It is like    "WE" "THEY" "US"