Suddenly, my ring finger moved.
I felt something. I couldn’t quite say what, but—were sensations as familiar as they were distant.
I remembered—little things like this.
The rats crackled in the tunnels, and the cicadas chirped in the gardens.
My hand moved, hindered by something. Shapes of ropes, no, they were tubes protruding from my body.
Little by little, my eyelids opened. The light of day, so far away, impressed itself with force, blinding me.
I remembered this sensation, too.
I, Malcavissa, lord of the shadows, felt it every time I returned from that empire to which the shadows had delivered me.
My memory was still hazy, but the sound of footsteps on stone, a rolling pebble, gave me the certainty that I had returned.
Had I returned? Again? Was the long journey now over?
When my dried-out eyes could see again, I saw the silhouette of a girl. Equipped like an adventurer, she was fiddling with rubber hoses and a machine like a laptop.
The instruments were connected via an arcane cube, probably stolen from my treasure hall.
Ah, my treasure. My last journey. Now, I remembered.
I, Malcavissa, was killed by adventurers hired by the lords of the kingdom. They could no longer tolerate my thousand-year rule. They could no longer tolerate my knowledge of the shadow world.
So, I was finally dead, and those memories—
Unpleasant memories that now invaded my mind and made me scream in horror.
The girl jumped back, pulling a silver stake from her belt.
Her determined expression made me calm down again, and the magic from my thoughts soothed the pain.
“Mighty Malcavissa, you have awakened.”
“You have called me from eternal sleep. To what do I owe this service?”
She bowed and returned the stake to her belt.
“My name is Catur. I am a reporter, better known as a necromancer. It is my custom to travel to the places of illustrious deaths to question the deceased.”
“A curious profession, yours. Reporter, you say. What year is it? I did not remember that you were allowed to practice magic.”
“In the ten years you have been dead, mighty Malcavissa, many things have changed. Your magic has shattered across the world. I am a manipulator of it.”
“I see. I imagine you awakened me to gain treasures and secrets as compensation. Perhaps you wish to become my disciple.”
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The girl smiled mockingly.
“Not at all, mighty Malcavissa. What I desire is a tale.”
“Another illustrious death to tell on your pages?”
“No, a tale that no dead person can tell.”
“And how could I, Malcavissa, be an exception?”
“Because you saw the afterlife before you died. I want you to tell me what you sketched in your notes.”
A sudden pain stabbed my temple again. The memories, those memories I couldn’t suppress.
I kept my cool, giving myself away with a single grimace.
“No resurrected person keeps such memories.”
My words only made the necromancer’s gaze narrow.
“Mighty Malcavissa, you are not just any resurrected. You have traveled to the shadow world countless times before you died.”
“Vague, hazy memories.”
“Your notes say otherwise.”
“Delusions of trance.”
“Do not lie! I, Catur the necromancer, command you.”
Something circulated in the pipes but to no avail.
“My flesh may be that of a sagging mummy, the purple robe of my rank may be gnawed by rats, and my silver jewelry rusted, but I assure you—foolish Catur—there is no spell in this world that can subjugate me.”
The sorceress stamped the ground with the heel of her sandal. The sound echoed throughout the room.
At that moment, I realized I was still there, on that throne, where, years before, I had died.
My life seemed so far away. My lost plans had now reappeared in my mind.
Thinking about life made me feel good. I didn't care if my power had vastly dispersed in the mortal world.
“I have mirrored your mind in your body. As such, I demand your deference!”
“Complaining is not what I expected of a sorceress of your rank.”
I turned back to Catur, annoyed by her determination.
“I am the mighty Malcavissa. Your deference is only due to me. Reporter.”
She gritted her teeth. Her fingers clicked on the silver stake on her belt.
Poor, foolish creature. Could she not see the difference between us? She admitted that she owed her abilities to my power.
“Malcavissa. I saw the files you filmed during your trances.”
“Were they in the arcane cube?”
“They are still there and were fundamental in awakening you.”
“And for that, I’m grateful.”
“Mighty shadow-lord, I saw the upside-down skyscraper overlooking the desert.”
The pain in my temple returned to oppress me, making me grind my gold teeth.
“I see that speaking of these things brings you pain.”
“Necromancer, there is no truth in what I could tell you. Only the dead have access to the truth.”
“But you are dead and now back. Speak to me, or I will make you return to the dead.”
Instead of disturbing me, those words of contempt ignited hope in me.
A glimmer of enlightenment, a buried will.
In this hall, only one external light came from behind the throne where I sat. So, my shadow will extend over the guests.
The sun was still too high. It was afternoon, but soon the sun would set. All I had to do was wait to cast that spell that memory now reawakened.
If it was the death that she wanted, I could satisfy her. After all, what I was rediscovering at every moment was my desire for life.
I gritted my teeth again to achieve peace of mind, to alienate myself from the physical and psychological pain that gripped me.
“All right, Catur, I will fulfill your wish and quench your thirst.”
“Oh, well. In the end, my magic can make you think. At first, I feared it had failed, but now you give in.”
“I do it of my own will. Don’t forget. I don’t enjoy talking about that place.”
She took out a tape recorder and turned it on.
“I do, on the other hand, enjoy it. First and only reporter to have broken the silence. I know others who could have, but they all feared you too much. But being reckless pays off. Come on, tell me before you go back to the afterlife.”
I didn’t respond to the provocation—she could believe what she liked best.