Azemar led Alaster into his office. It was pretty standard. A few bookshelves, a desk covered in various papers, and a couple of chairs around a small table in the middle of the room.

Azemar walked to the bookshelf behind his desk and touched the underside of one of the shelves. There was a soft clicking sound and the bookshelf slid backward, into the wall, revealing a dark staircase.

Even with Mana Sight, Alaster had not been able to detect any magic in the bookshelf, but [Seeker Sight] had not seen anything either. Either on the shelf itself, or behind it. But as it opened, Alaster was able to see past it, as if he had blinked.

The staircase and walls were made out of seamless granite. Even with his [Dark Sight] allowing him to see in the dark for ten meters, the staircase continued on past what Alaster could see.

Azemar silently began to descend, so Alaster followed. As they were embraced by the darkness, the bookshelf closed behind them, hiding them from the light. Deeper and deeper they descended until even Alaster did not know how deep they had gone. Deeper into the earth they went, until even light turned into a memory.

Just as Alaster was able to ask how much further, a glimmer of yellowish light came into view. It grew as they came near until the staircase seemed to explode into a large room. The room was easily the size of Azemar’s house. Tables lined the walls, with countless papers hanging from the walls and books scattered everywhere. Strings were pinned between different papers and even a few books.

The mess only became more crazed the further back it went. The only source of light was the large golden crystal against the far wall. A woman was within, seemingly floating there. It almost seemed like she was sleeping. Azemar seemed to hesitate slightly before he entered the room.

There were thousands upon thousands of notes, pages, books, but Azemar walked past them quickly, without giving them a second glance. Alaster glanced around the room, seeing how the papers all spoke, in some way, of Death.

As they walked closer to the Crystal, Alaster was able to see the resemblance of the woman to Lunaria, it was uncanny, and clearly related. She was beautiful. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but Alaster could feel it.

Her lifeforce was slowed, but seemed to be slowly ebbing away, as if it was being harvested.

“She is dying.” Alaster mumbled, more to himself than Azemar.

The Elder did not look away from his wife, “Yes.”

“You realize that my Magic works with the Dead, not the nearly dead.” Alaster turned away from the crystal, towards his teacher, “Even if I can help, it won’t be the same. It won’t be her.”

Azemar gulped, his eyes reflecting the light of the Crystal, “I know.”

“You know the fate of my Death Knights. They are the Undead. They can imitate, but they are unable to feel or care. They understand the love they once had for their families and loved ones, but if they saw them again, they wouldn’t feel a thing. Not of love, not of friendship, not even of recognition.

They might recognize them as someone from their past life, but not as someone with whom they feel any emotion toward. And as Undead, they feel nothing except hatred and contempt towards the living.

If I rose her as a Death Knight, she would be under my control, but if she wasn’t, she would attack every living human she saw.

She would be a Monster, not the woman you knew and loved.”

Azemar sighed, closing his eyes and lifting his head, “I know.”

“Then what do you want?”

Several minutes passed in solemn quiet. Several minutes of remembrance, of memories of lost past moments, now slipping through the grasp of thought.

When Azemar spoke, his voice was quiet and choking with emotion.

“To say goodbye.”

Alaster hesitated, momentarily unsure how to respond.

“It won’t be real.” Alaster said solemnly.

“It will to me.”

“And what of Lunaria?” Alaster accused, “Are you the only one allowed solace?”

“To her; her mother died many years ago. She was but a small child then. I allowed her to believe that because I did not want her life to be weighed down by hope, only to be crushed.

But I couldn’t do the same.

I just couldn’t give up that seed of hope, even among the desert of fear and despair. I spent the last nine years scouring the continent and even some oceanic ruins for anything that could save her.”

Azemar slowly walked over to a chair, “You don’t understand what it is like to watch your loved ones die slowly. Your family was quickly killed while you weren’t there. A mercy that I am envious of. I had to watch for over a year as my wife slowly died an excruciating death.

Did you know? The poison wasn’t just killing her, it was attacking her nervous system, intentionally causing her immense pain as it corroded her organs.

If the same thing had happened to your parents, what would you have done?”

Alaster thought for a moment, “I likely would have begun killing everyone, regardless of their innocence or not. I would have become the Monster they proclaimed my parents to be.”

“Then do not accuse me of anything. For all I did was attempt to protect those who I had sworn to protect.

At first, I did not use the Crystal to prolong her life so I could search for a cure. At first, I used it to simply end her suffering, because I could not bring myself to end it personally.

But now, the Enchantment is wearing off, despite my best efforts. And once it does, the poison will continue, and she will be in pain once more. I nearly broke the first time. I cannot bear to see her in pain once more.”

Alaster turned back to the frozen woman, “What are you asking me to do?”

“Save her from the agony. I want you to kill her.”

The silence grew heavy, oppressive, and suffocating.

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Several moments passed in silence before Alaster spoke, “No.”

“Please. This is all I want from you. In exchange for my tutelage and shelter.”

Alaster closed his eyes, his mind and heart throbbing.

‘There is a way.’ The quiet voice of Belgroth spoke.

‘I will not kill her or put her under my control.’

Alaster had killed Humans before. He had killed countless Humans. But they were soldiers or had acted against him. This woman had done no such thing. And despite how irritating Lunaria was, Alaster found himself unable to kill her mother.

In the year Alaster had spent in Galmore, he found himself becoming more Human. His heart was not full of hatred and cruelty.

After his parents had died, his sister stolen away, Alaster had been consumed by rage. A rage that had brought about the slaughter of countless. His time in Onigas as a Child had only honed that rage into a fine blade instead of a crude club. He no longer sought the destruction of Lissura as a whole, only those that had been the cause of his family’s fate.

His time with Astrid had taught him that some people were not just innocent, but worthy of life. It had taught him that some people simply did not care for the violence of life and sought to hide behind their walls. He still thought that everyone should prepare and train themselves to handle it, but he understood why they attempted to hide from it.

But then they had to separate, each going their own way. He sought to become stronger for further bloodshed, while she sought to become stronger to end the bloodshed. Two very different goals with similar paths.

Alaster delved into dungeon after dungeon, carving through the Monsters. Consuming them, in order to regain the energy to continue the slaughter.

His encounter with Ebris, God of the Dead, had further ignited his wrath. Beings of unbelievable power, and they ignored the world they ruled over, allowing atrocities to be done in their name. Innocent lives destroyed, and they did nothing.

Richter had taught him that there were those with power he could not face head-on. He taught him how to stand against those powers, despite their difference, and to continue fighting. To stand on his feet, raise his weapon, and roar, regardless of defeat.

Aila had taught him the mysteries of the world. About how large and diverse it was. About the Magics that existed and how they governed. She had taught young Alaster that Magic was not capable of only destruction and violence, but also of creation and beauty.

Yet despite all that, his heart remained consumed by fiery wrath. A desire and need to spill yet more blood.

The siege of Onigas had been an excellent outlet for that rage, where he no longer had to hold back for fear of discovery. He was then strong enough that he could defend himself against any assassins Lissura sent after him, if they even recognized him.

During the Siege, he had encountered multiple people from his childhood, people that cared for him. That care had created a seed of something other than rage and hate in his heart. Something that promised a future beyond the blood.

But there was an enemy outside the gates that threatened those people. For the first time, his wrath focused, not as a blade, or even a needle, but as a shield. His wrath focused to protect those that cared for him and in turn, he for them. A shield that was then used to eliminate everything that dared to threaten them.

He had entered Galmore with a mind and heart that was cut off from any emotion except hate. Interacting with the people of Galmore, and dealing with Lunaria’s antics, had slowly calmed him. Not extinguishing the fire, but moving it to the side, allowing for that seed to grow.

Before, his plan had only been to hunt down the people responsible for his Family, regardless of the casualties, who they were, or what the fallout would be.

Now, refined by both Azemar’s teachings, and his growing kindness, he sought to identify each person responsible and cut them out like a cancer, leaving as many alone as he could. Though Alaster still did not care how many he would be killing. If the entire Kingdom was involved, he would slaughter the Nation. But he doubted it would be a large group.

‘Your Class is Lord of the Dead, not Lord of the Undead. The difference is minute, but astronomical. Death surrounds everything even small children that are perfectly healthy.

Think of it as a scale surrounding every creature, living or not. The Scale of Life and Death. Usually, the force of Life heavily outweighs the force of Death for a Living Creature. But Death is always present. Even in your Undead Creatures, the force of Life is always present. However small, both Forces will be there.

As someone so attuned to Death, you can make use of it to do minor things. In truth, while this is vital to theoretical Magics, it has very little practical use. Which is why I didn’t bother telling you about it before.

In this instance, Death heavily outweighs Life in his wife. She is clinging to Life by her fingertips. Even a Master of Healing could not do anything except ease her pain as she passes.

But it is possible to use that overwhelming force of Death within her to project her voice outside the Crystal. However, making use of one of the Forces will empower it. It will drain away what little Life she has left.’

Alaster stared emotionlessly at the older version of Lunaria, ‘How long will she have?’

Belgroth growled, despite being a Demon, he did not like pointless suffering, ‘Maybe a few minutes. At most. But during this time, as she will still be in the Crystal, she will be able to speak without any pain. She will be able to say her goodbyes.’

‘Tell me what to do.’

It was a simple procedure for someone so skilled in Necrotic Mana, but it was intricate. Alaster rested his hand in the Crystal. With the Crystal in the way, his hand was nearly a foot away from her heart, but it was close enough.

“I can allow the two of you to speak, but it will only last a few minutes. She will pass without pain.” Alaster said, not looking at his teacher.

Behind him, Azemar softly nodded, understanding. In a just four minutes, Alaster successfully cast the spell. As he did, a faint image of the woman appeared outside the Crystal. A mere image, but it was her voice that spoke.

“Azemar.” Her voice was soft and graceful, as if she was dancing across ice. But it was strong, more strength than she had since her poisoning.

Azemar looked at his wife with glossy eyes, “Alaine.” His voice was shaky, full of emotion and threatening to crack.

“I will be just upstairs.” Alaster said, though he doubted he had heard him.

Alaster walked away, out of the room, and up a few stairs. He sat down on the step and put his face in his hands. He had thought he had grown too callous and cruel to feel such emotions. Seeing such a terrible and anguished scene made Alaster recall the night of his parents’ death.

For years, he had remembered that night with fury and wrath. He used it as a source of strength whenever he felt weak.

But now, he allowed himself to remember with a soft heart. He was not overcome with rage, but instead of loss and sorrow. He allowed himself to feel emotions besides hate. And as he did, he was overcome with a flood.

A flood of hate, sadness, and misery, but also of joy, comfort, and love. He remembered not just the night of their death, but every night before then, and every morning.

He remembered how his mother would wake him up each morning with a hug and a kiss. He remembered his father always fiddling with something in the house, and how a young Alaster would always help him. His father would teach him what they were doing, but also why, and how.

Alaster smiled sadly as he recalled his father teaching him how to fish. He wasn’t ready when a fish tugged on his line, sending the young Alaster off the rowboat and into the water.

When they returned home later that evening, Alaster was soaked to the bone, but proudly holding up his prize for his mother with a wide smile on his face.

He remembered memories he had long since locked away. Memories he had previously thought made him weak or vulnerable.

Alaster shattered the locks and clung desperately to the memories, seeing now how they did not make him weak, but gave him reason to be strong.

But then his mind turned back to the present. Lunaria was just upstairs, probably making dinner and wondering where they had gotten to. She had no idea what was happening. But would she even want to? He understood Azemar’s reasoning for keeping it a secret. He understood the weight of hope, and how it could crush people underneath it.

Alaster recalled many of the moments he shared with Lunaria. How she constantly teased, joked, or pranked him. It was often annoying, but Alaster found himself hoping it never changed.

Alaster shook his head and stood up, now that Belgroth had taught him how, he had paid close attention to the Life Force of Alaine, even from this distance. While he couldn’t sense Force from any real distance, as the one who had cast the spell, he could feel when it dissolved.

Alaster returned to the room, seeing the Crystal gone. In front of its place, Azemar sat there, clutching the body of his wife as the now crushed Crystal faintly rained down, reflecting the light. It would have been beautiful, if it wasn’t for the meaning.

Or perhaps that is what made it beautiful.

Azemar hugged her tightly, his eyes closed as he shook slightly, sobbing.

As Alaster stood there, Azemar shed a single tear. A tear that held both sorrow and relief.

His wife was gone.

But so was her pain.

She had passed with a faint smile on her face, and Alaster could only hope that what she said to him would help him move on.

Alaine Roseheart was gone, but she would never be forgotten.