“Ah!” Christoph waved wildly at the mangled creature. It didn’t react to his movement. Unknown to Christoph, the orders were to keep out the living. Christoph had neither an inkling of the monstrosity’s purpose or a fathoming of he that gave the order.

Once Christoph had moved out of the way, the walking corpse moved as best he could into the darkness to join the soldier near the hallway’s entrance. The soldier had since drawn a sword from his side and stood vigilant for any of the living that might attempt to enter this domain.

Enemies in life, the barbarian and the soldier now took their posts beside one another under common decree. Their orders were given, and their false life given purpose.

Christoph began to lose all sense. Monsters moved about without a beating heart. He’d awoken inside the chilled, blackened halls of what he’d believed to be his emperor’s facility. He backed away from the two shambling corpses and hurried down the hall the undead had come from. He had to escape.

His limbs swung heavily. The nerves weren’t quite able to dictate direction or strength. Stumbling a few times, and falling others, Christoph kept pushing himself to find an exit. There has to be an escape! Reason had departed the poor lad’s mind. Corpses! They were moving! It made no sense to a boy who’d seen only the very basics of magic in his lifetime—besides the stars that wrought fiery death on the fields of war.

Darkness stretched on down the hallway of the chilled stones. Where wonders existed behind him as treasured horde of a sadistic master, there was far more ahead. Though, whereas the gathered riches shimmered and sparkled, the majesty of what awaited warped reality with blackened tendrils of damned fascinations. Mankind stands to break before such awe, and yet there are those that seek this power out willingly. Mortal minds may never understand entirely, but this doesn’t prevent them from trying.

So, Christoph sprinted forward as best he could. Darkness opened up and revealed a taller, wider waiting room before the fascinating doors that rose to the ceiling. In this opened area, four pillars carved with various creatures and tales bore the weight from above. Christoph took no time to marvel at the craftsmanship of these uniquely created works or the statues that lined the edges of the room. Each statue was equipped with various tools or carved weapons, but their tracking eyes went unnoticed by the boy that ran toward a door he could only hope meant freedom.

Reaching the gargantuan doors, Christoph ignored the black wood that made the body, the dark yet shiny metals that seemed to contain countless stars, or the grooves that seemed natural but were purposefully entwined ruins of a grander design. There was far more to even this door than Christoph could see with his freshly awakened undead eyes. His fear blinded him. His anxiety slowed him. His violent, sudden exposure to this world was maddening.

He pushed in the door that had been covered with spells and seals to prevent the enemy from entering easily. Magic can be very finicky. Say a minion, risen from the dead, were to gain a consciousness of its own. This minion could be aggressive or friendly toward the raiser, but the spell may not even consider the two options. Some spells might take into account the emotions or intent of the minion. Others, like this fine door that hid wonders and horrors, only determined permission based on the concept of ally or enemy. Christoph knew nothing of his benefactor, and so he hurried toward unadulterated animosity.

Though the doors were enormous, they opened at the will of the entered. The ally to the sovereign power was permitted beyond the border between the realms of life and death. Into the inner sanctum of he that willed the powers of darkness, driven mad and corrupted by its glamor, Christoph interrupted a very specific ritual. The goal of this incredible spell is to avoid what all life experience.

Only the masters of the arcane, or those strung up by the strings of a god, might find the answer of everlasting life. It comes at great costs. The mind must become mangled by solitude and study. The spirit remains safe while the body crumbles to nothing but a skeletal structure. It tears away that which makes humans and humanoids more than animals and locks it away in a precious trinket or item while the body is manipulated like a doll during play.

It is an abomination of nature. It is an insult to the very cycle of life, and yet… there is a god that finds light in the darkness and places shadows beneath the sun. What should have been an offense to the divine happened onto the path of one stumbling young man. Some powers took sight of this, and the game would play out.

Christoph opened wide the door to his damnation and salvation. Within the chambers were twisted pillars of dark stones. Demons, devils, dragons, and horrors contorted and clashed up the heights. Eternal lights blinked dully at the distant walls—kept low as to not interrupt the proceedings. There were various workbenches, stands, bookshelves, ingredients, and all manners of experimentation within the sanctum.

Atop a center, risen platform, there was a figure in a black cloak. Fabrics like spun gold and silver woven into the cloth made several symbols that expressed magic properties as they glistened in the dull light. His hands were raised above his head.

Only these hands were not those of a human. They were covered with metallic-like scales of a copper or dull gold tone. Claws gripped a glass vial that had been recently emptied. A single drop of a vibrant green liquid swung around freely in the bottom of the glass.

Upon hearing the door open, the beast within the dark cloak swung around. The cloth lifted to reveal a lengthy tail with short spines breaking the flesh. The appendage lifted and slapped the stone beneath the altar where the creature stood. Dressed as a wizard of great note would be expected to, the dragonkin turned to face his own creation.

“What is this?” His short snout snarled the words. His teeth grinded between one another as his bright yellow eyes peered down to the intruder. This dragonkin stood, even with a slight hunch, about six feet and seven inches. His horns wrapped upward, close to the scales that jutted upward around his crown, and curled forward around his lower jaw. There was a drop of the green liquid fleeing from his maw, tracing through the spaces between his scales before falling to the floor.

“I-I-I.” Christoph couldn’t manage to get the words out. He was about thirty feet or so from the dragonkin adorned in magical items. A sword rested in its scabbard on the wizard’s side. Though he seemed to be a caster, his arms were still that of a descendent of dragons.

The reptilian eyes of the wizard glared as he searched for the answer. “I’ll not be interrupted! Not now!” His one hand released the bottle off to the side. Glass broke and scattered across the stones. “Acid Arrow!”

A ring of green energy flashed around the dragonkin’s outstretched claw. Christoph was partially frozen in fear, but his need to survive caused him to begin moving near the last moment. Appearing in the air just before the green circle of energy, a steaming tip of liquid shot forward. Christoph only managed to take the edge of the acidic blade over the back of his left shoulder.

Ducking to the side, he tried to hide behind one of the pillars. His shoulder stung, but it wasn’t enough to pull his mind from the situation. What is going on?! He tried to inhale deeply, but his lungs almost seemed to reject the air. The remainder of the acid attack boiled across some of the stone—the foundation barely breaking at the touch of the liquid.

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“I,” there was a series of coughs. “I’ll not be stopped when I’m this close!” The voice was roaring; a deep tone with rage and sickness spilling between coughs.

Christoph could hear the heavy boots contacting the stairs. Falling gradually, coming closer, the magical creature was approaching.

“Bone Prison!” The pillar which Christoph rested against began to shift. Behind the lad, who still couldn’t comprehend magic to this degree, white spines erupted out from the pillar and curved around him. It was as if the stones had exposed, malleable ribs that clapped shut around prey. It pulled the lad in tight; a loving embrace with a deadly grip. The spear-like bones broke the skin where only stilled blood failed to coagulate.

“Ah!” Christoph tried to shift himself or break free, but the bones were as strong as steel. White talons dug further into the flesh the more he struggled. “Let me go! Please! I—”

“Silence!” The voice of the beast echoed about the chamber. Christoph continued to struggle through the dulled pain of bones tearing into his broken body. All the while, heavy steps clacked across the darkened stone of the floor. A foreboding aura filled the area. Darkness which could be felt crept over the pillar as a dense fog of spiteful decay. The bones were enveloped in this repulsive energy.

Finally, after the snarls and tapping boots drew out the anxiety of the moment, the wizard walked into view. His scales reflected the soft lights of the continuous magic orbs. His bright eyes were like solid flames trying to ignite the poor boy that had interrupted.

“My own minion.” The wizard lurched forward and began to cough. His scaled hands pulled away from his mouth—a deep crimson reflected the dull light. “At a time like this? How?”

“I-I—”

“Out with it, boy!” The dragonkin lost his breath and coughed heavily again. With the enemy out of breath and bleeding like that, it seemed Christoph could escape. Run right by him! If only I could get out of these! He struggled further as the bones dug deeper. “How did you do it?”

“What?!” Christoph shouted in fear as one bloodied claw extended toward him. A thick nail, sharp like a finely fashioned blade, lightly drew down his cheek. He could feel the flesh tear partially, but there was no sensation of blood running down his face. It was just an uncomfortable sensation; the lack of pain or the lack of what you know ought to follow. The illogical and impossible seemed all too normal within the darkened sanctum.

“Do not play dumb! You are conscious and risen! What magic is this? Tell me!” The wizard’s claw thrust through an opening in the bones and gripped the boy by his throat. A hunger for knowledge, even as the potion’s affects began to take their toll, drove the maddened dragonkin to forgo caution. “Tell me!”

Two bodies made contact. One dead. One dying. One a conscious corpse raised by the beast that sought to become the perfect corpse. One ancient god gambled out of boredom. One entity offered the darkness of eternity.

One tiny jewel took hold of it all and blurred reality.

Christoph’s eyes opened wide with a flash of light. The dragonkin’s eyes did the same. One white, and the other yellow. Two hues blended in the air until there was a sudden darkness.

They were both stilled. The dragonkin’s hands fell to his side as he slumped over; steam softly rising from his cloak like miniature cobras readying to strike. Christoph’s body slumped in the sharpened ribs of the pillar. Silence, pure and deafening, overtook the chamber.

“Wha—”

The dragonkin’s eyes opened slowly. There was now red filling in the yellow as veins burst with the poison’s touch. He was getting weaker. His arms wouldn’t work, his legs were buckling beneath him, and his eyes were too heavy to keep open for long.

“What did you do?!” Christoph’s voice roared into the chamber. He violently thrashed against the bones. Skin broke open and tore chunks out of his limbs. As frightening as it was to see him attempt such a daring, heroic escape… it was for naught.

The limbs continued to separate, or bones would simply stick further into the flesh. His body was far too weak to handle the spell. Those bones would keep him secured against the pillar. They would keep him sealed in the inner sanctum as a prisoner of unfortunate circumstances.

Falling to the ground, the wizard opened one eye to watch as the boy flailed as best he could in the ensnaring bones. The wizard felt drained. His organs were shutting down. His blood vessels were breaking. That which he sought to avoid was going to occur, but not in the way he’d believed.

The true wizard attempted to cast another spell.

“Eruption Field!” A spell meant to explode outward from the caster began to spark in the air. Runic symbols turned in the air as arcane energy poured into the air… but it wasn’t enough. The spell fizzled out without the necessary mana to produce the results.

Christoph’s body exhaled deeply in disappointment. The wild eyes of the boy, the wizard’s soul within, watched as his potion and life’s work benefitted another. He watched in emotional turmoil as the dragonkin collapsed to the ground—his life slipping away with each passing second.

“No!” Christoph, or rather the wizard that now inhabited his body, cried out in frustration. “Eternity is mine!” He pressed further into the bones, but his new form wasn’t strong enough. “Mine! Damn you! Mine!”

As the dragonkin’s body breathed his last breath, the energy he’d provided for his spells severed. The ties that bound the master to the minion were broken. The risen dead couldn’t survive without their master’s command or his magic.

“No! You bastard!” One arm broke free of the bones. His flesh hung in several flayed sections. Crimson covered bones were exposed within the arm. Through all the pain, the wizard attempted to reach out. To prolong, no… to defeat that which he’d feared most, all the progress and knowledge meant nothing. “Give me back! NO!”

As the hand reached, never coming close to touching the body on the ground, the last of the energy ran through the living corpse. Christoph’s body, with the true wizard within, fell limp. That mangled arm hung over bones so that the last of his stilled blood would drip to the floor below.

Death swept through the chambers and took all life that was false and true. He cares not whether injustices have occurred or if evil or goodness would prevail. He took the soul of the one who had meant to defeat him—eternity now spent in another realm beyond that which the wizard sought to rule forever.

However, though Death walked amongst the corpses and took all with him, there was one soul that he couldn’t grasp. The soul that resided in the dragonkin, with his ritual complete, had funneled into a shining stone upon the altar. Gold designs of twisted knots and runes in a forged disk wrapped around the sparkling gem. No singular color held the jewel. It almost seemed to reflect the world about it.

In this moment, it filled with a darkness. As the stars of the galaxies twinkle their nightly dance across the Heavens, this stone swirled with the cosmic truths of the infinite—that which is both mystifying and horrendous. Into the perfectly cut jewel, one’s eyes would be lost to the wonder of eternity.

This is where Christoph, the truest form of self, was placed.

A ritual with a specific potion of eternal undeath had been performed. The drinker’s soul would be bound to an item so that the body might be manipulated forever. As long as the item survives, with powerful magic surrounding and protecting it, so too shall the body.

The small gem in Christoph’s shoe had changed the course of history yet to be made. Two souls swapped before the potion could be finished. Two empty corpses, yet Death only left with one soul.