“Will you be using-g-g your teleportation, my lord?” Corallan had begun to lead Christoph toward the large doors. “The leaders-s-s of the factions and their highest ranked-d are gathered in your throne room.” There were several clicks of excitement from the legitimate maw of the creature. The human lure rested atop its head bounced around with a gleeful, and sadistic, smile.

“I,” Christoph considered the teleportation. If that explodes in my face like the other one did, I don’t know where I’d end up or if I’d even make it in one piece. “I think I’ll walk. Perhaps that will jog my memory.” He hurried from the insect to retrieve the mystical book with the numerous spells within and repositioned it at his side.

“Of course, my Lord-d-d!” She clapped two hooked hands together and began to scurry toward the doors.

I’ll escape when I can, but she’s really pushing this meeting. I need to find out what happened to our troops… what happened to me. Christoph moved toward the door; slightly hunched as he attempted to straighten with the tail twitching behind him. Fear dwindling as a sense of duty arises, I have to report this to the Empire. I need to let them know!

“Sir,” the bug monster to his right, still bowing while she holds open the enormous door, was looking past him. “Shall I remove-ve the corpse?”

Christoph shot a look over to the body that slumped inside the bones on the pillar. “Leave him.” He growled harshly. “I have more business with him.”

“Of course-se-se, my Master.” The human head brushed the floor with its black strands of hair. The upside-down smile still churned the dragonkin’s stomach.

Once Christoph had exited the room, he made sure to stand as straight as he could and fix the gear he wore. At least I’ll have a chance to fight back if the worst occurs. I could even try “Acid Arrow” again if needed. Close range would get us both covered. As Christoph considered the loss of his hand if it meant escape, his vigilant servant closed the door with a heavy thud. Christoph’s spine shot straight up, and his tail slapped against the ground.

“This way, Master-r-r.” Corallan’s legs began to tap across the cold floor as the black figure moved into the shadows. Dark banners hung from the ceiling and those watching statues kept their guard against the distant walls. Christoph ignored it all. He simply tried to walk as normally as he could in an alien body—following the skittering mass of black shell and the false beauty it flung around. As Corallan began to put distance between them, the undressed maiden resembled more of a puppet with invisible strings dancing in the shadows.

Keeping his mouth closed as often as he could, Christoph marched awkwardly down the length of corridor. It’d felt like only hours before that a human boy stumbled about in the dark. Each undead minion he’d seen in his travels had been removed. A clear, cleaned path was made for the King of the Undead.

After the hallway, Christoph could see the opened room with the risen altar in the center where there were a set of doors to the right and one to the left—the left being the horde of treasures fit for such a king. Christoph swallowed hard. I may need to get back in there if I need anything else. It’d be nice to go back to the village with even a handful of what was in there. The Emperor would surely reward my reports with something! Not thinking of how he’d be welcomed back in the skin of a dragonkin, he dreamt of how the village would have fine homes, valuable tools, and more money than they needed for their simple lives. Rothmire wouldn’t be such a tiny, broken town with just a few of those rings or necklaces.

Christoph had no idea what awaited on the other side of the hall, but he waited to ask Corallan for information as she’d already hurried around the altar—now careful to keep her feet from touching the risen steps. Christoph moved in a similar way; carefully about the edge of the dais with tools resting on the altar. Wondering, only for a moment, what its purpose was, Christoph continued down the hallway with his insectoid servant.

“Hurry, Master-r-r.” She couldn’t contain herself. It was like watching a child trying to get to the front of some festival or parade. Christoph wouldn’t have minded if she hurried off into the darkness—never to be seen again. He knew that was unlikely. The bug would come back into the light and wave him along and bow graciously as if to sweep the ground with its hair before he walked on it.

“What am I to say?” Christoph meant this for himself, but his deep voice rolled through the shadows.

“How it-t pains me to see you in such-ch-ch regard-d!” The insect turned. Her human face almost seemed as if it would cry; however, it seemed incapable of such actions through its mounted puppet. Corallan’s false face scrunched together with soft eyes that apologized for the circumstances. “I will do all I can-n to assist-t-t you and reclaim your memories-s.”

Christoph still was unable to fully stomach the way the giant bug seemed to contort and break the female that laid atop its head. He nodded and pursed his lips in hopes to restrain a scream, vomit, or perhaps even both. “Mhm.”

“Just seeing that your ritual-l was successful will ease their hearts-ts-ts.” She was now skittering forward at a more relaxed speed, but her arms waved wildly as she led her master toward his grand throne. Christoph watched with a pit in his gut as the monster’s lengthy, black-shelled tail swung heavily as she marched. There were two barbed digits on the end that looked almost like a straightened fishing hook. He imagined what damage could be done if stung by a creature this large.

King of the Undead. Christoph played around with the ideas in his head. King of the Living would be better. King of the Living and the Dead? Too lengthy. King of All! Too much. He tried to focus on this instead of the waistline and hips of the false human woman that bounced and wiggled in front of him atop a clicking monster. King of Shit. I’ll take that title if it gets me out of here.

“Just-t a little farther.” Corallan had led him through hallways, corridors, down stairwells that were straight or once that winded downward as if toward the abyss. Everywhere they travelled was dimly lit or shrouded in darkness. Christoph was still able to see through his dragonkin eyes and the new benefits he’d received since becoming a Lich.

Along the way, Christoph had seen entirely emptied halls. It seemed hard to imagine the groups Corallan had described keeping this place running when there wasn’t even a mouse scurrying about. There were; however, fine banners set along the walls. Many were decorated for the region of the domain they were in. He wasn’t sure which was for which faction or group, but there was the other banner that existed in every area. These were hung between the other banners and made with fine blacks and golds; woven by the finest artisans.

A black background was encased by a golden border. Within the darkness of the material existed a skull. It was more of the outline of a skull that one flickering candle would illuminate—the rest left to the darkness. This skull was formed with the golden thread and had an area in the forehead that was left to the black. This area devoid of sparkling fabric made the shape of an eye with a small golden pupil in the center. Around the skull was a golden circle. It was thin, but it encased the image. It was a banner that would express more than just a simple pattern in the years to come.

Christoph saw a variety of rooms as well. There were some that must have been meant for dining, preparations, storage, cooking, sleeping quarters, armories, etc. He’d never seen such a stretch of well-designed structures. The further he walked, the smaller he felt in this vast empire within the Surton Spire which he was supposed to be the master of. In reality, he’d only travelled through two smaller stairwells and down a handful of hallways. His kingdom ran far lower into the Spire than he could have imagined.

“Just-t-t through here, Master-r.” She hurried over to the doors that looked similar to those of his study. The floor of this opened chamber, with two smaller doors to the left or right sides of the room, was also decorated with the towering statues with watchful eyes, artistically woven banners, and the chilled stone of a crypt. “To your throne!”

Corallan flung open one set of doors, the wood and metal creaking as they separated. Upon opening the gate, she stepped back and to the side so that the false human’s hair scattered over the floor like poisoned roots. Christoph gulped back his fears, but the horrors of what lie ahead were considerably greater than he’d expected.

A crimson carpet was flush with the entrance to the great hall where marble pillars rose perhaps one hundred feet into a gothic style series of curves overhead. The black stones that made the ceiling deepened the gravity of this grand hall as marble stone seemed to keep the blackness from crashing down. These pillars were similarly carved with the representations of dragons, devils, and nightmares.

Christoph hummed to himself to keep the emotions in. Before him, in this vast hall of adorning wealth, there were perhaps two-hundred individuals standing to either side of the crimson carpet. There were humanoids and creatures spread out along the stretch of fabric that led to a distant chair made of dark stone. Christoph could feel each eye upon him as if each pair, or sometimes set, added another five pounds to his chest.

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“Please-se, Master. Take your rightful place-ce-ce.” Corallan’s human face had her eyes closed in adoration of her reptilian ruler.

This is insane! Okay, okay, okay. One foot at a time. Christoph took one step forward. Alright. Great start. Don’t slip up and get eaten. He was trying to keep his eyes set on the throne, but the distance seemed to increase the more he focused on the watching faces in his peripheral vision. It was in his first step into the throne room that his boot caught the edge of the carpet that had been laid out for him.

“Hmph!” Christoph stumbled a bit, but luckily the tail on his backside steadied him just enough he only waved his arms around for a moment before regaining his balance. Well, shit. Christoph stood straight and did his best to act as if nothing had happened. They’re going to tear me apart.

Yet, they did not.

As he passed them, none reacted to the misstep of their leader. They each bowed their heads as he passed. There were humanoids of various backgrounds as well as beasts, insectoids, and creations of some horrific dimension. They’d gathered in mass, only the highest of ranks, to honor their master with their presence. This accounted for perhaps a tenth of the total population within the Surton Spire and the depths beneath it.

Christoph hastened his speed a bit as more of the beings were behind him. Trying not to get his tail bitten or to be dragged backwards toward his doom, he hustled himself toward the three steps carved of the grayish stone that rose toward a landing. Upon this landing, was a dark, almost glass-like, throne. It was made of one solid block that had been expertly chiseled down into the perfectly smoothed seat for a king.

Christoph took a moment as the last of his audience fell to their knees or respective limbs. His eyes rose to the jewel that had been set into the stone; as if the stone had been heated and warped so the metal and gem could be stuck in. It rested about five feet up from the floor so it would shine magnificently behind the ruler of the Surton Spire.

As Christoph gazed into its beautiful surface, he lost himself in the sparkle of the infinite space within. It was in this eternity that he saw the nights change to day and the everlasting struggle continue. With the jewel flickering between a divine white and an abrasive darkness. It was here that, since he’d swapped bodies and been subject to the surrounding horrors, he felt at peace… almost at home.

In the reflection he saw two pieces of a whole. One was the boy from Rothmire that had worked in fields of golden wheat only to die in fields of bloodied grass. The other was that of a dragonkin; a new life and face for the lad who’d awoken in this nightmare. I’m not me. I am me, but I’m not. The jewel sped through its celestial rotations as the two halves of a whole face peered back at him.

Two faces… two paths.

He turned back toward the masses that had gathered to bow to their newly risen king. Christoph examined the room and saw every head angled downward, every knee or limb bent to him, and not a single one preparing to skewer him against his throne. Even within the darkness of the stone above, there were creatures hidden in shadows praising his presence.

Within the expansive throne room were all sorts of monsters and persons waiting to be given commands. These are my servants. This was a pinnacle moment, the breaking of the past, which would set him on the rest of his journey. When an unforeseeable event occurs, no matter how unjust or disastrous, one must overcome or submit. Christoph’s mind was now a mixture of human, dragonkin, and undead.

This unholy concoction of races and instincts began to warp his mind. Standing before his own phylactery filled him with the energy of his own soul—with the will to survive.

I need to get home. I could take a lot with me. I could make my village better with this body; with what I have now. He clenched his claws together as his side. His shoulders straightened and the tail swung casually beneath his cloak. I’ve lost so much. Can I really turn this away? Was this meant to be? Am I… a king? One claw moved to touch the spot on his chest where there was no wooden totem waiting. Without this, he felt a tinge of despair, but he knew the holder wasn’t going to leave without him.

I’ve been given a choice. He considers the dream and the masculine divinity that had called to him. He reflects for a moment, allowing all memory of farm and family to slip away, as he scans a room of nightmares trapped beneath the mountain.

“Welcome!” The dragonkin’s voice broke this extended silence. There was a shuffling in the crowd as the beasts and creatures lifted their heads toward their leader. Christoph, filled with the fury of a dragon and the apathy of a corpse, gazed out over the masses. “What is the reason for this gathering, today?”

Though the man inside had no answer, the expression he produced was one waiting for an explanation from their lips. He wanted to hear them say it. He winced internally as they hesitated to answer.

“To honor Lord Gohdin!” This name, pronounced by some as GO-deen­ while others preferred GAW-deen, was spoken by a human that bowed on one knee. His arms were respectfully positioned with one crossing his stomach and one similarly across the back. “Our King of the Undead.” His voice was low for being such a thin man. He wore frilled and rather puffy clothes. It was as if one of the nobles of the capitol city had come all this way to honor the new king. This man, or something like it, was named Azix Promolgon and a noble was just what he was.

His eyes were closed, but behind those lids were eyes as bright blue as the sky. The pupils seemed almost fake. Black balls that floated aimlessly in a surrounding vacuum of frosted blue. His blonde hair had streaks of silver in it; all of which was slicked back. He had muttonchops that were carefully maintained down to the sides of his mouth. This seemingly scrawny man opened those piercing eyes to gaze upon his master, and the corners of his lips revealed dazzling white teeth.

As he spoke, the entirety of the room cheered in agreement. They called out the name of their master. They praised him for who he was and what he’d become.

“To the King of the Undead!” A behemoth of a man, Christoph assumed to be The Wall, stood near the front. He towered over the others; including the first to speak that knelt just a few persons down from him. “Our master is now eternal!” He dragged out the cheer and lifted one massive arm into the air.

Erupting into chants for their eternal king, the crowd ebbed and waved like that ocean of grasses Christoph recalled. Almost like it was just moments ago. And for a moment, in that apathetic mindset of the undead, his eyes flashed with a crimson glow and these persons before him were almost as worthy as grass. It was a fleeting thought, but one that disturbed him just the same. His eyes returned to their usual yellow with the thin red veins breaking through.

Look at them. Christoph’s reptilian eyes scanned the small army of nightmares, beasts, and myths. Every inch of this picturesque scene was painted with threats to human life. All of this… so close to home! Right within the Empire!

All eyes were upon him. All needed an answer to calm their chants. They would surely listen to whatever words their king spoke. Whatever commands he gave.

How they hang upon my silence… this king. He’d have, the eyes widened with realization of what this army would surely have done when commanded by the foul beast who’d trapped him in magical bones and set the hills ablaze. They mustn’t!

Were his heart able to race, it surely would have.

The voice of the unknown god rippled in his mind. Every cheer and grumble, every roar and hiss, and every sword and hammer reminded him of the entity’s prophecy of paths.

And how the voices come.

Three in one. All to witness the hordes that must be restrained, must be ruled, and must be put to grander tasks that serve the immortal!

“I am your king!” Christoph tore the sword from the sheath and held it out over his subjects. Their words turned to thunderous cheers. Their bows to clapping and shrieks of joy. Monsters and men alike watched on as their lord stood among them once again—reborn in more ways than one.

The eternal lights and the burning torches of the throne room illuminated those on the floor. Sparks and streams of fire or lightning filled the black ceiling with the images of hidden beasts and soaring lizards. As Christoph held one copper-toned arm forward with the blade in hand and grasped his chest with the other, he felt the avarice of the dragonkin’s nature take hold. I will be a good man.

I will be a good king.