“You’re a necromancer!” Blackbast said with a hiss in her voice.
Heather went to lie and convince her she was wrong, but the bone champion was all the proof anyone needed. Without his robe to disguise his true identity, she would never be able to pass him off as a death knight, leaving her truly stuck. With no other option, she did the only thing that made sense, falling to her knees to put her face in her hands as she started to cry.
“Heather!” Frank cried and ran to her side, crouching down as if to shield her from the world. “Heather, it will be alright.”
“What is this?” Blackbast asked and looked to the others. “Why is she crying?”
“Being a necromancer has been a curse,” Frank said as he tried to comfort Heather. “It was forced on her by another, and she tries very hard to keep it a secret.”
“But somehow, it always gets out, and people come after her,” Breanne added. “She has been in hiding or on the run ever since she got here.”
“How could that be true?” Blackbast said and took a step toward Heather. She muttered a quick blessing and took a deep breath as Frank looked at her warily. “Tell me honestly. Is it true this was forced on you?” Heather looked up with wet eyes and nodded, explaining being a necromancer made her life a constant battle. She wished there was some way to get rid of it without being reset.
“It is true then. What a cruel fate,” Blackbast said and chewed on a thought. “I am one who hates to see players suffering in this world. I do all I can to bring pleasure and comfort to those in need. I want to be honest with you, I cast a detect lie spell before asking, and you have told me the truth. To think somebody forced this on you and put such a terrible price on your head.”
“That’s why they did it,” Frank replied and slowly explained the whole encounter with Moon.
“So terrible!” Blackbast growled. “To play on her naivety and then be willing to sacrifice her for the reward. This person would not be welcome in my temple.”
“None of it matters,” Heather said as she wiped her eyes. “I am trapped like this, and sooner or later, somebody is going to drag me back so they can torture me. Maybe I should just go and get it over with. At least nobody can claim the reward then.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Breanne insisted. “You have no idea how horrible that process is.”
“I think she is very brave,” Blackbast said. “Admitting that her options are limited and accepting her fate. If you are willing to face such an end, perhaps I could offer you another option that will require the same level of courage?” Heather looked up as Blackbast stood and held out a hand to help her stand. “Come, I have something to show you. Bring your minion and hide him in the back room. I do not want any other guests to stumble on him.”
Heather took the woman’s hand and stood before instructing her minion to follow her inside, where she hid him out of sight. Blackbast asked them to go back to the table and wait while she prepared something in the back. When the woman finally returned, she looked stern, her green eyes looking over the group before coming to stand before Heather.
“I am touched by your display of courage and the heart you carry. Your friends have told me how you care about others, and I cannot bear to see you suffer this. I have something I can offer you that will take away this curse but perhaps shackle you with another one.”
Heather looked confused and asked what she meant by shackle her with a new one.
Blackbast approached and produced a black leather collar studded with small red gemstone. It was a beautiful thing with a simple metal clasp on the back shaped like a heart. Heather looked the object up and down, unsure what to make of it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“This is a magical device,” Blackbast explained. “If you wear this collar, it will change your primary class to one more suited to a woman serving in this temple. You will be a necromancer no more.”
“It will?” Heather said in shock and nearly reached for the collar. “What class will I become?”
“A slave,” Blackbast admitted. “You will become my thrall and be unable to resist my commands. You will also be unable to travel more than one hundred meters from me. You will have to remain where I am forevermore.”
“A slave?” Heather repeated as her hand recoiled from the collar.
“Do not be so quick to judge. Remember, you would be my slave, and I would take very good care of you. You will live here with me in absolute luxury with all you could ever need provided. There will be no more worries, hiding, or running. You would be free to indulge in your studies or spend your day soaking in the pool. If you are bold enough, you could even help me entertain visitors of the temple.”
Heather went ridged as she put her hand down and considered that last statement. “You mean entertain them the way you do?”
Blackbast nodded. “Am I truly asking too much? You just admitted you were considering facing your fate and the pain of reset. I am offering you another path that is far more pleasurable if you understand my meaning. You will never have to worry about anything again. It will be my job to care for you and deal with the problems that arise.”
Heather nodded as her eyes fixated on the collar and her face flushed with images of what it would mean. It was an alluring proposition, but deep inside, she knew it wasn't right.
“I can't,” she said with a shake of her head. “I just can't.”
“Can’t she just put it on to erase the necromancer class?” Quinny asked. “The take it off to pick something else?”
Blackbast sighed and pulled the collar away as if to study it, rubbing a thumb across the jeweled surface.
“I am afraid it will only work while you wear it. It can be easily removed, but her previous class will return the moment it comes off. The only way to purge her class for good would be to make it permanent, but you would never be able to remove it again.”
“This is foolishness,” Breanne insisted.
“What do you mean?” Quinny said. “This is perfect. No more necromancer class and all of the troubles that come with it. Heather would be free of all of it.”
“At what cost?” Breanne argued. “She is trading one curse for another.”
“I don’t think it’s a curse,” Quinny said and looked to Heather. “Lot’s of people indulge in lifestyles like this, but this isn't Heather's style.”
“No, I strongly suspect that this is not Heather at all,” Blackbast Agreed. “She is one of those rare individuals who guard their love carefully. One day she hopes to meet the one she can give that gift to and shower them with her passion. I feel a measure of remorse even to make this offer, knowing that it may be another curse.”
“Then why make it?” Breanne asked.
“Because,” Blackbast continued. “Her first curse was forced on her, and she will never be at peace so long as she carries it. This time it comes as a choice that she must make in her heart. Instead of making her life one of worry and fear, she will be cared for and given anything she desires. If she does wish to help me in my services, I will do all I can to help her transition into the role. Nothing will be demanded, and she will have all the time she needs. I promise she will never want for anything. I will provide for her so that she will have all she needs and more.”
Heather felt dizzy as the offer spun in her mind. She could be rid of the necromancer class and free of the bounty but shackled to a new destiny. It was a double-edged sword offering her a life a luxury, to lounge in comfort, study to her heart's content, and potentially enjoy some of the physical rewards. Unfortunately, it shackled her to Blackbast and prevented the exploration of the world. Her friends would go home, and she would be alone. As that thought played in her mind, she thought about her other companions and voiced concern.
“What happens to my minions?” she asked. “What happens to Webster?”
“So long as the collar can be removed, they will remain, but if you choose to make the choice permanent, they will vanish with your lost class. You cannot keep those things you no longer possess the skills to summon.”
“I would have to give up Webster,” Heather said as she looked to where she felt the spider moving along the side of the room. She had grown so accustomed to feeling him in her mind that she felt almost naked without him nearby. Could she really give him up to change her fate?
“How do we know this will work?” Frank asked as Blackbast turned to face them.
“If you want to see if it will work, put it on. I swear on my life you will be able to take it off, but while it is on, her class will change.” She held the collar out to Frank, who took and looked at Heather as she shook from head to toe.
“This is a bad idea. You will be a prisoner twice over, trapped not only in the world but reduced to this temple,” Breanne insisted, but Heather wasn't listening.
“Heather, what do you want to do?” Frank asked as he held up the collar.
Heather's turned her gaze on the collar as Blackbasts words continued to play in her mind. She would be forced to remain close by and obey any command the woman gave her. What if after her friends were gone, Blackbast ordered her to service the guests, turning her into a puppet? Even as she pondered that, another thought came to mind, and a slight smile curled her face.
“Put it on me,” she insisted while lifting her hair. “I want to see what happens.”
“I don't know,” Frank said as he hesitated, but Heather only leaned closer.
“Please, Frank. I want to wear it, and I trust you to be the one who puts it on me,” she whispered. His hands reached around her neck, and she felt the leather pull tightly against her throat. He fumbled with the clasp, his long gangly fingers making it difficult, but eventually, she heard a click.
With a shuddering breath, she dropped her hair and looked down at her arm. She hesitated to swipe the tattoo and reveal that secret, but Blackbast chimed in. They had already let slip that Moon had stolen her panel; she knew Heather was chosen.
“We are terrible at keeping this secret,” Breanne scolded.
“It doesn't matter,” Heather said as she rubbed the flower pattern and brought her panel to life. She went wide-eyed to see her classes had indeed changed, and a massive amount of points were returned. “It works,” she gasped and ran her free hand along the collar. “I’m not a necromancer anymore.”
“Yes, you are; it's just hidden,” Breanne corrected.
“What class are you?” Quinny asked.
Heather looked down and read the title, not sure what to think of it. “A bonded slave,” she replied.
“You can pick from several subclasses,” Blackbast offered and pointed to the button. “Go ahead and look.”
Heather tapped the button and brought up the sub menu as a host of slave titles went by. Her eyes fixated on one in particular as Blackbast leaned over her shoulder.
“You can make me do anything?” Heather asked as the cat woman looked over the stats.
“You will feel an intense desire to obey me. I cannot order you to do anything that would harm you or another, and if I gave you a command that would certainly lead to your death, the magic would break, even if you had made it permanent.”
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“So I can take it off even if it's permanent,” Heather said with a smile.
Blackbast turned to regard her and let out a pfft. “Do not think of that as some easy task. It is not so simple to bend the rules that bind us.”
“I am a bit of an expert at bending the rules,” Heather said and continued to stare at the subclasses and decided to test the next idea.
“Show me your control,” she said. “Order me to pick the subclass you would like me to have.”
Blackbast nodded and pointed to one of the classes and spoke firmly as Heather smiled.
“I command you to pick that one.”
Heather moved of her own accord, feeling a sudden need to obey. Without hesitation, she picked passion slave, and her sheet changed to reflect it. She tapped to the page of skills and began to look at class abilities as her face flushed so deeply purple even Quinny was alarmed.
“People actually play this?” Heather gasped.
“Of course,” Blackbast replied. “People have come here to live a fantasy, and nearly every conceivable path has been provided. Many eagerly embrace these roles relishing in the gifts they bring.”
“Gifts for who?” Heather asked as she wondered if the player or the people she played with were getting the better deal. She tapped through a dozen options, each one making her blush deeper. The whole class was dedicated to heightening sensation and passion for herself and those she played with. It was an intoxicating notion to give oneself up to such vices, but she kept her head and tapped the panel away. With a moment to breathe deeply and clear her head, she went back to an earlier thought, running a hand over the collar around her neck. Was this fate better than being a necromancer? Would she eventually give in to the subclass and embrace its delights?
“So she can take it off whenever she wants,” Quinny asked.
“She can, for now. There are a great many rules associated with slave collars. They cannot be forced on an unwilling person,” Blackbast admitted.
“How do I make it permanent?” Heather asked, not looking up to avoid eye contact.
Blackbast leaned against a pillar with her arms folded as her eyes looked on Heather with Pity. “There is a process we would have to do together. First, you would swear a vow of ownership, giving yourself to me while we both held the collar. Then I would cast a blessing of control on it and hand it back to you. You would have to place the collar around your own neck and lock it into place. If you manage to survive five days without falling into panic and taking it off, the clasp will fuse together. It would be magically bonded to your skin, marking you as a slave girl forever. People will recognize the collar and know what you are, but you would be perfectly safe as you would always be at my side. Just because you are my slave does not mean you are fair game.”
“How else can it be removed once it is permanent?” Heather pressed.
“A reset will remove it, of course,” Blackbast replied. “And there are a few other means.”
“This is perfect,” Quinny interjected. “All she has to do is make it permanent, and her problems are solved.”
Blackbast tsked and turned to Quinny with a shake of her head. “Do not think such a decision is simple. Need I remind you she will have to remain here at my side. The class she chose will also give her the desire to fulfill her role and earn experience. The longer she wears it, the harder she will find it to resist. Eventually, she will reach a balance where she enjoys her new role and have full control, but she will need to level a great deal to reach it.”
“Wait,” Heather interrupted. “The subclass is going to affect how I think?”
“It is meant to help you embrace the choice,” Blackbast replied. “You can override the sensation with a strong mind, but you will feel a desire like a starving man craves food.”
“Hmm,” Heather said with a toss of her hair. “And I have to stay nearby now. I can’t use magic to travel far away?”
“Any magic you work to travel outside my control will give me the option to allow or deny it. You cannot leave my presence without my permission, and you cannot be away for long. You will feel an intense calling to return to your master and will find no rest until you do.”
Quinny looked puzzled for a moment before looking up with a new idea. “So she can leave for a little bit but has to come back. Is there any way you can increase the range?”
Blackbast shook her head and reiterated that the range was part of the class. A slave had to be close to her master.
“What if you moved your temple to where we lived?” Quinny suggested. “Your range would be more than large enough to cover most of her lair. She could slip away for short periods to visit the city or other parts of the area and be back before the cravings started.”
Breanne turned on her with contempt burning in her eyes. “Will you quit trying to find a way to push Heather into this? She has enough struggle without you trying to confuse her.”
“I am not trying to push her into it, only find a way to make it a viable option. Right now, it doesn't work even if she wanted to do it.”
Breanne shook her head as her frown grew. “Honestly, why don’t you put that collar on. You would probably be happy here.”
Quinny looked hurt as she stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Breanne. “Just because I am more open than you doesn't give you the right to scold me. I am only trying to help because she is my friend, and I would do anything for her. If she was afraid to stay here alone, I would give up my base and the extra points to move it here. Heck, I will wear a collar with her, so she doesn’t have to face this alone.”
“Please,” Blackbast urged. “I am as uncomfortable about making this offer as she is to receive it. We all agree she isn’t suited to this role, but at least it is another option, and I felt I was harming her by not making it.”
“I am grateful you told me,” Heather said and ran her hand along the collar as she turned to Frank.
“What do you think about all this?”
“You have to do what makes you the happiest,” he said. “If giving up being a necromancer is what you want, then maybe you should give this a try. You don’t have to make it permanent until you know you want to do it.”
“This is true,” Blackbast added. “You could wear it for a few weeks and see how you feel.”
“Are there any other classes like this?” Breanne asked. “Maybe we could find something less contrary to her nature.”
Blackbast shook her head. “I know of no other method to override one's class. However, there have been rumors that somebody was researching just that. I know nothing more of it, though.”
“And your class is the only one that allows this?” Frank asked.
Blackbast laughed a haughty laugh as she locked his eyes. “No, many classes can create slaves. Some can create many slaves, whereas I can only create three at my current level. Most of the others classes create slaves as secondary classes as well. Only a few classes make primary slaves.”
“You can create two more slaves then,” Quinny said and stood up to come to Heather. “If you want to do this, I will stay here and wear a collar with you,”
Heather was silent as she traced a finger over the heart-shaped clasp on the back.
“No, you are wonderful, just how you are. You don't have any reason to put one these around your neck.”
“I would, though,” Quinny insisted. “I would do it for you.”
“You have wonderful friends,” Blackbast commented.
“I have the best friends I have ever had in my life,” Heather said and looked over them. “Frank is always supportive, Breanne worries over me like a mother, and Quinny is that girlfriend who always rushes to your side when your hurting.” She paused and finally stopped fiddling with e collar as she looked to Blackbast.
“You said the library was nearby?”
“It is,” Blackbast replied. “An hour’s journey at the most.”
Heather closed her eyes as she looked down at her arm. Opening the panel to look at her new class, she thought about all the things she had grown to love about being a necromancer. She didn't want to give that up, especially if it meant being apart from her friends and losing Webster. Still, she had to explore this magic and see if it would do what she hoped.
“Could I wear it for a little bit,” she asked. “Just for a few days.”
“Of course you can,” Blackbast said. “Come, we are wasting too much time. Let us go and visit the library to give our minds a rest.”
“No,” Heather protested and looked to where the strange doorway leaned against the wall. I have some things I want to do first. I keep losing track of tasks because I am chasing after too many things at once. I have to put some of the tasks to rest before I rush after another.”
“Tell me of your burdens, and I will help you organize them,” Blackbast said.
Heather looked to the others, but no one objected. She went ahead and explained the magical doorway and her desire to read the letters. She also explained the strange clock and her belief that there were hidden rooms behind the walls that Breanne could locate.
“You are right,” the cat woman agreed with a sway of her hips. “Let us investigate these letters. I will help you read them while the banshee tests the walls. Also, what is the cart your pet was dragging in?”
“Oh, that's my palanquin,” Heather said and explained the purpose of the device. Blackbast was impressed by her use of undead slaves to carry her around like a queen. She looked to Frank and asked him to go to the front yard and out into the sand a bit. There he would find Legeis and Umtha, who he was to ask to examine the palanquin to make sure it was serviceable.
“That explains why they didn’t hear the commotion when the bone champion arrived,” Breanne pointed out.
“Yeah, but why are they so far away from the temple?” Quinny asked.
Blackbast smiled and batted her eyes as she explained they were both goblins after all.
Heather choked, and Frank looked confused until Quinny fell over laughing. He then lingered as if unsure he should go until Blackbast chased him away, assuring him they were done.
“Now, we have work to do, my sweet,” Blackbast said in a purr as she took Heather by the hand and led the way to the doorway. “Show me how this works?”
“There is nothing to show. All you have to do is walk through it,” Heather said and stepped in to show her.
Moments later, the four women were inside as Heather went directly to the lock box that contained the letters. She struggled with the lock a moment before Blackbast asked her to step aside and chanted a blessing that caused her finger to glow. She touched the lock, and there was a pop as it unlocked magically.
“How did you do that?” Heather asked.
Blackbast smiled and explained that as a priestess who often played with restraints, she had a blessing that would unlock any lock or untie a rope.
Heather didn’t want to know anymore as she dumped the box on the table and went to sort through the letters. For several minutes she tossed through them trying to decide which one to read. Blackbast put a hand on the papers and handed her one, suggesting she read it before digging for another.
“Are you assuming the role of my master already?” Heather asked.
“Oh, I just want to enjoy this moment. It is rare to have my collar on so strong a woman. If it makes you nervous, I will stop.”
Heather shrugged as if it didn't matter. “Suit yourself, master.”
Blackbast laughed and turned to Quinny, asking her to search any container that would open, then asked Breanne to check the walls. Breanne nodded and faded into her banshee form, floating through the stone as Blackbast took up a paper of her own to read.
“Are we looking for something specific?” she asked.
“Anything related to why Endril was here, or to a woman named Hathlisora,” Heather said.
Hmm, you were in Endril’s caravan? He comes to the temple often. He is rather fond of my offerings.”
Heather nearly dropped the paper as she suddenly thought of Endril strolling into the temple to find her as the new slave girl.
“Is something wrong?” Blackbast asked.
“Endril and I don't get along,” Heather said. “In fact, I don't like him. As we traveled the road, he was rude to my friends and insisted I eat dinner with him so he could hit on me. He seemed to think I should be honored that he wanted my attention. I found out later that he was also spying on me because he was suspicious I was involved in what he was doing.”
“Hmm,” Blackbast said with a gentle purr. “He has always been a gentleman here. I can assure you he will come again, and he will see that collar and seek your attention.”
Heather reached for the collar, but Blackbast put a hand on her shoulder. “Do not be so quick to cast it away. I promise you, if Endril shows up, I will talk to him. He will grovel at your feet to apologize for his behavior and ask you to forgive him. He will treat you like a rare jewel that is precious to him. You will see a very different man, and he will be yours to play with.”
Heather sighed and put her hand down as she looked over the letter. “This is just an invoice of goods.”
Blackbast handed her another, and she scanned it for keywords before realizing it was a request for salted meat for some distant outpost. Paper after paper went by as she searched for something of interest. Before she found anything, Breanne was back to confirm there was a room on the other side of the wall. It wasn't very big, but it contained something of interest to Heather, a necromancer's circle.
“Here?” Heather balked. “Is there anything else?”
“Nothing, the room is empty besides the circle. It’s like it was locked away and forgotten about,” Breanne suggested. “I searched the walls for a while, but I can't find a way to open the door. I suspect the entrance is magical in nature.”
“Now I have to figure out how to open the door,” Heather said.
“You will keep reading,” Blackbast insisted. “I will let you know when it is time to work on the door.”
Heather smiled and went back to the papers as Blackbast handed one to Breanne to help speed it along. She found a letter with a brief description of Hathlisora's legend, especially how she defeated sand demons and dug up something in the deep desert. Blackbast found a manifest discussing a group of adventurers who supposedly found something in the sands. They dragged it back to town, and Endril was asked to find out what it was.
“Here's one that makes sense,” Breanne said as she laid the paper on the table for the others to read. “It says Hathlisora was using a city in the middle of the desert as a base. It was ordered destroyed by King Keven to bury what she was doing there.”
“Could that be the cause of the glass?” Heather asked as she looked the message over.
“I have heard that was a battle between a wizard and a demon,” Blackbast replied.
“Yes,” Breanne chimed in. “Likely a cover story to hide what was really going on. Kevin was obsessed with erasing her mark in the world.”
Blackbast looked between the women, finally settling on Heather. “Are you mixed up in this Hathlisora stuff?”
“Yes,” Heather answered honestly. “That’s who people think I am.”
Blackbast nodded and went back to looking through the letters. Heather felt a tension between them as she looked for more references to the mysterious figure. They found the letters Heather had managed to read before, indicating that Endril was being paid to hunt for any information about Hathlisora. He was to watch the caravan roads and spy on adventurers in the desert. If anyone dug up something of hers, he was to acquire it at any cost. A few more letters included information about groups playing in the area and what they found. It was near the bottom they discovered a final letter about the group that found something. It was a reply from a third party telling Endril to use the item found as it would help him with his efforts. It included references to the item being 'the room', and all three of them stopped to look around.
“Is it talking about this space?” Heather asked.
“It would seem so,” Breanne said. “This belonged to Hathlisora.”
“No, the letter says he suspects it did,” Blackbast reminded. “Because of the strange clock.”
“Why is that clock so important?” Heather asked and turned to look at it. Quinny was right below it, digging through crates that seemed to contain clothing.
“It is a strange clock,” Blackbast said. “Who needs to track the motion of the sun? You can look up and see that for yourself.”
“Unless you are inside here,” Heather replied. “Hiding, or maybe waiting for the exact right time.” She walked closer and reached a hand up to touch the lowest circle of the clock face. “Once the sun is over the horizon, you can't be sure what time it is until sunrise. What if somebody needed to know when midnight started?”
“You could still use a normal clock,” Breanne replied.
Heather nodded, but her mind was working the mystery out. Somebody needed to know precisely when the sun moved and how long it would remain in that position. This room gave them a base of operations to work from anywhere they could stand the doorway up.
“You are overthinking again,” Blackbast interjected.
“Maybe,” Heather agreed. “At least we know for sure Endril is hunting for Hathlisora artifacts and information. We also know he stole this room from somebody because he suspected it belonged to her. The clock and the necromancer circle are fairly good evidence that he is right, but we can’t be certain.”
“Most of these crates are empty,” Quinny said. “The ones that have stuff looks like newby adventuring gear.”
“Well, we have completed your tasks here,” Blackbast said. “Let us go check on your throne.”
“It's called a palanquin,” Heather corrected, but Blackbast stepped through the doorway and vanished.
“Why are you wearing that thing?” Breanne snapped now that Blackbast was away. “You aren’t seriously thinking about accepting her offer?”
“No,” Heather admitted and turned to face her. “I could never give up my friends and the things we have built together. I don’t hate being a necromancer. I hate what other players seem to think that means. I am kind of fond of the class now, and I like being so useful to my friends.”
“Then why are you still wearing it?” Breanne asked as Quinny arrived to hear the answer.
“I have a plan,” Heather replied. “But I need to put a lot of faith in Blackbast to see it done. I want to wear this for a little bit to see if she if I can trust her.”
“We can’t trust her,” Breanne insisted. “We hardly know this woman.”
“She was open and honest about everything the collar would do,” Quinny offered. “She could have held a lot of that back. She is also not bothered by monster players.”
“You proved that last night,” Breanne remarked and turned to Heather. “How much time do you need to be sure you can trust her?”
“I think she has already proven her intentions,” Heather said. “I want to wear it overnight and see if she tries anything. I have already sent Webster a mental command to alert you if he detects my mind being dominated.”
“Umtha isn’t going to be happy about spending another night here,” Breanne pointed out.
Heather put a hand to her neck and tugged at the collar. “I need one more night. Then I will feel more comfortable asking her to help us.”
“What are we asking her to help us with?” Quinny pressed as Heather headed for the exit. She stopped just short of the door and turned back with a smile.
“Getting some real answers,” Heather said and stepped through the door.