Varsus walked. Walked and walked and walked.

He knew something was wrong, but he could not stop himself.

Growing dread was welling up from inside of him, pushing out every other emotion. Mindless terror grew inside of him, and he knew the source of that terror lay at the end of the journey he was now taking.

But he could not stop himself.

He walked all the way back to Varston. Men cried out to him as he walked, but he did not return their shouts. Nor did he acknowledge them in any way.

If any impeded his path, he simply walked around them. He was the ruler of this place, and none would dare lay hands on him.

He wished someone would stop him. Varsus did not want to reach the end of this path.

He remembered the nightmares he’d suffered all the way back from Wademount. Those had been bad, but this was even worse. The nightmares he could eventually escape from by waking up.

This time, he was already awake, and there was nowhere to hide.

He could feel a vast darkness. It was something so cold and so powerful that to it, the Kingdom of Maeraland and the world it existed in were nothing more than specks of dust might be to a man.

This was the natural order of things. Or at least it should be.

Varsus could feel that something was happening, something that might cause that darkness to notice them. Notice Maeraland. Notice him.

He desperately wished to avoid this. He did not want that darkness to know he existed.

Walking on, he reached the outskirts of Varston. He was close now.

Varsus thought of Avalaine. He wished he could see her again.

With that thought, he exerted his willpower, tried to force himself to stop walking, to turn around, to fall to the ground. Anything to stop his forward process.

Nothing worked.

He had been called, and he was going to answer that call. His desires amounted to nothing.

Now Varsus left the town entirely. He walked through one of the wooden gates, which was opened for him by two men who called out greetings as they watched him walk by.

He did not return the greetings, and they did not attempt to stop him. And so his last hope was lost. He walked away from the town into the night and toward the Endless Forest.

***

It was in high spirits as it exerted its power just inside the treelike of the Endless Forest.

Gouts of earth, trees and other plant life were torn from the ground as if by an invisible hand. The material was then thrown behind the two dark beings, where it formed a large mound.

A deep, wide hole was being formed. It was forming a tunnel that descended into the earth. Already it was as deep as three men standing atop each other, and still the earth was gouged and hurled away.

“Master, I hunger!” cried one of the figures.

The other figure did not reply, only stood motionless. It was a frozen thing, completely still, as if it was not a part of the world around it.

“Master, please!” Barnaby cried. “The hunger! It tears at me!”

Barnaby’s voice was cold and ragged, as most of his throat had been torn out before he became the undead creature he now was.

“Silence. You will feed soon.” It said, its tone dismissive, as you would placate a child to get them to stop crying.

Just then, there came a noise from behind them. Someone moving through the forest with no attempt at stealth.

Both inhuman figures turned, and were greeted by a third inhuman form.

“An ELF!” It cried out.

Before them was a tall male figure. He was above average height for a human male, and his hair was blonde and long, well past shoulder length. The elf’s hair had clearly never been cared for. It was ragged and matted, and there were even twigs and leaves embedded in it.

He was completely naked, and his body was covered in minor scratches and bruises. His skin was of a pale cast that would have been alarming, if not for the pallor of the two dark beings that stood in its presence.

His hands and feet were cracked and bleeding, covered with mud and plant debris.

The elf’s eyes were the most striking. Looking into those eyes, it became apparent that the elf was utterly mad.

Shrieking, the elf sprang forward with incredible speed, his claw-like fingernails outstretched to rake the face of the un-living creature before him.

Despite its quickness, the elf was no match for IT.

Hardly seeming to have moved, it grabbed the elf by the throat and held the wild thing aloft to examine it, paying no attention to the claws attempting to rake the flesh on its forearm.

“Incredible,” It said.

“If I did not know better,” It began, “I would swear this elf is a mortal thing. Bone and meat. Barely a whiff of faerie upon it.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The elf writhed and snarled as he was held in the air.

“Master,” said Barnaby, “I can smell its blood. It can feel it. Let me have it!”

It leaned in close to the squirming creature and inhaled the scent of the elf.

“No,” It said, “this elf is tainted, somehow. You’ll not drink from this one.”

With that, It spoke a word. One of the runes of its own master. When it spoke, the night became even darker for a moment.

The elf burst into flames. Barnaby jumped away from the explosion, surprised at how quickly he could now move.

It dropped the elf to the ground and allowed the flames to consume it.

“Come,” It said to Barnaby. “We must continue our…”

It trailed off, then it turned completely around.

Barnaby looked to where its master was facing. There was a man there. A dark silhouette at the edge of the trees.

Then he realized he knew this man.

“Welcome, pawn!” It cried, and its tone was lively. Excited.

Then the man stepped forward, and Barnaby saw he had been right.

It was Baron Varsus. All alone. Barnaby could smell his blood. The urge to rip Varsus apart to get at it was strong.

Barnaby watched as his master stepped forward as well, to speak to Varsus.

“It is long past time that we met, human.”

Varsus did not reply, only stared off into empty space.

***

Varsus was tired. So tired.

He had walked so far, and his strength was ebbing. He felt he was at the point of collapse. Yet, there was some power animating him that would not let him fall.

Nor could he run away from the nightmare scene in front of him.

Before him were two deathly pale beings. Behind them, something burned. The fire light, mixed with the moonlight among the trees of the Endless Forest, gave the small clearing an ominous cast.

Varsus saw that one figure, the one that had spoken to him, had solid red eyes. Its broad grin revealed pointed canine teeth.

It seemed to move from one pose to the next without the intervening movements. Almost flickering, but there was no light or sound to accompany the effect.

The thing held itself with the air of one who has power, and as such, there was a dignity to the unnatural thing.

Varsus actually recognized the other figure.

Barnaby. One of the youngest of the men he had taken with him to Wademount.

But he no longer looked young or old. His eyes were also red, but not solid red like the other creature. These eyes were the eyes of someone who had been denied sleep for weeks. Worse, his face was pale and twisted into a visage of… hunger?

Varsus was repulsed by the sight of Barnaby continuously opening and closing his mouth, almost distending his jaws. This revealed the grossly extended canine teeth that were unlike those of the other figure. These looked as if they were meant to be used.

Barnaby drooled and sniffed at the air, never taking his bloodshot eyes off of Varsus.

“M-master…?” Barnaby said, taking a step toward Varsus. “I will feed on this one’s blood!”

Immediately, the smile was gone for the other creature’s face.

“No.” It said. “This one’s blood is meant for greater things. You will feed soon.”

But Barnaby kept moving forward, reaching his hands out toward Varsus. In the sharp moonlight, Varsus could see the fingernails of Barnaby’s hands had become something like claws or talons.

Try as he might, he could not move. He could not even open his mouth to shout.

“Master,” Barnaby said, his voice soft and raspy at the same time. Both of his hands now reached out for Varsus. “I will only take a little. Only taste a little, just a little—”

At that moment, a burst of bright red light exploded in the small clearing. Varsus could not close his eyes, and so was nearly blinded when the light filled his eyes.

His ears were also assaulted. Not by any sound accompanying the light, but by piteous howls of agony that Varsus assumed were coming from Barnaby.

When the light faded enough for him to see normally, he saw his guess confirmed.

Now enveloped in a dull red light, Barnaby writhed and screamed, throwing his body this way and that, yet never falling to the ground. Varsus saw Barnaby suspended in midair, and realized the light seemed to be a physical thing, clinging to Barnaby like boiling pitch.

“MASTER PLEASE! PLEEEEEEEASE!!! FORGIVE MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

But the punishment did not stop, carrying on for long moments with no end in sight. Behind Barnaby, the other creature stood, its red eyes bright and glowing with what Varsus could only call pure malevolence.

Barnaby’s cries tore at Varsus, almost like his physical hands would have. He could not bear to hear the man’s pitiable, agonized suffering, no matter what he had become.

At one time, this man was his subject. He had to do something to end this.

Desperately mustering his willpower, Varsus cried out.

“S-stop this…! Now…!”

He meant it to come out as a command. Instead, it came out as a pathetic, croaking wheeze.

The creature’s head whipped around to face Varsus. The red light winked out, and Barnaby fell to the ground, his wailing, mewling and moaning beginning to fade away.

“You speak unbidden?” the creature asked, though Varsus did not think the creature was asking him.

Suddenly, the thing was standing directly before him, having crossed the intervening space between them in the blink of an eye.

An icy hand flashed out, grabbing Varsus’ jaw in a powerful grip. The monstrous, crushing strength of the creature became apparent to Varsus then. He felt his jawbones stressed to the point of cracking, and he knew it would take little effort for the creature to do just that.

The red eyes filled his vision, and Varsus felt waves of cold flow through his body.

“Yes, human, you have a strong will, but it does not matter.”

The hand let go, and even more, the power holding Varsus upright vanished.

Immediately, Varsus sank to the ground as his legs gave out under him. He struggled to stand, but he could not. He looked up at the creature, gritting his teeth in defiance.

But the creature had turned its back on Varsus, and it spoke again.

“I’m going to do you a great honor, human,” the thing said. “I am going to tell you my name.”

Varsus pushed himself up onto one knee, but could not summon the energy to stand.

The creature turned then, and did not seem alarmed at the movement of its pawn.

“If you survive what comes next, you may tell your compatriots that Vizron the Lich Lord was responsible for the utter destruction of your world.”

Varsus grimaced when the name was spoken. Reality seemed to get grayer when the words were said aloud, but it then recovered.

“And even more, know that everything I do is done in the service he who waits in the darkness, he who is the blight of all hope…”

In that moment, the only thing Varsus wanted was for the creature to not say the name. Blind terror washed over him and he closed his eyes.

Vizron threw his clenched fists into the air and screamed at the night sky.

“He is ERGOCHANN!! ERGOCHAAANN!! ERRRGOCHAAAANNNN!”

Varsus felt a terrible pull on him then, a vicious tug that snatched at something inside of him. Suddenly he had a fear for his soul, something he had never truly considered in the past.

He watched as the trees turned from green to brown to gray, then wilted and died. Cracked, rotting branches fell around them.

The fire that had been burning snuffed out, and dark smoke billowed up into the night air. Air that was still and suddenly suffocating.

That horrible stillness continued for long moments until Vizron spoke again.

“Barnaby!” he shouted. “Attend!”

Barnaby, forgotten in the previous exchange, righted himself and stood. Varsus noticed, in continuing horror, that Barnaby did not scramble to his feet in undignified haste, but rose in one graceful movement, his body stiff as a board, and as if it was hinged at his feet.

“Now,” Vizron said, looking directly at Varsus, “we are going down there, and I have a task for you.”

The creature pointed, and Varsus now saw a huge rent in the earth, a giant hole which descended into blackness.

Then Varsus felt himself in the grip of the dark power again, felt himself being pulled along the ground as Vizron and Barnaby turned to walk to the hole.

This time, Varsus could physically resist, but it did no good. Though he scraped and clawed at the ground, nothing he did slowed his progress in the slightest.

Both Vizron and Barnaby entered the brutal, cavernous wound in the earth, and they entered of their own volition.

Varsus continued his scraping and scrabbling to no avail, and finally resorted to screaming as he was dragged into darkness underneath the Endless Forest.