It was a few moments before I recovered enough that my heart rate was back to normal and able to think properly again. Everything that I’d just done felt wrong and unlike me. The wave of hatred and revulsion that had come over me felt weirdly external and forced when I looked back at it, but I had no idea what that meant. The strange sense of threat was gone now, and I felt only relief. Almost absently, I started to shuffle and rearrange the papers on the table, my mind running in circles. After a short time, my mind seemed to resurface from the odd fog I felt stuck in, and I looked down at the papers. Annoyed at myself for having de-organised them, I began to put everything back where I had originally put it. It was as I did that I noticed that one of the pages that had previously been covered in unreadable squiggles was now legible text. It was marked with a 2, and I ran through the rest to find another page that was also now legible. Carefully reorganising the papers, I started to read the first page. It was a single sentence of only three words using characters I recognised, but none of the words were in a language I knew. Hoping that the second page would be more useful, I quickly flicked across.

To You, Who Come After, it began.

By now you will have entered the main fortress, and seen what I have faced here. True evil resides within these walls, or within the walls of one of our sister fortresses. At some point a lich has taken residence, a necromancer who has embraced undeath themselves and gains power from the pain and suffering of others. I have only seen it briefly, and on few occasions, but it has hidden from me very successfully. I suspect that it invaded some time ago, killing those who lived here and used these five linked fortresses, created centuries ago to help the Wildlands grow and recover from the last great war. There were once portals enabling one to travel instantaneously between each location, but these are heavily guarded now - which will be due to my presence – I have some hope that time will have reduced the lich’s caution, though I cannot say of course how long it has been since my writing that you have come.

As most of the world knows little of necromancy and lichdom – by design it must be said – there are several points you must be aware of. The raised beings will mostly be skeletal, though should they be recently deceased then they could have some flesh attached still. Either way, they are the same – puppets controlled by their lich master. They have no will of their own, and are animated by pure darkness, given limited instructions by their master. You must be wary, for the lich can see through their eyes, should it will, and it is dangerous to be known to a master necromancer, even without the lich’s benefit of undeath. They have ways to track a known enemy, so you must not be seen.

There is one way to avoid this – the tracking curses will not work upon an animal or shifted mage - so long as you are only seen as the cat form I have left for you, then the lich cannot assault you with long-distance unbreakable curses. In order to help further, the attached page is a spell of true healing – both more and less powerful than the standard healing abilities, it will heal you of most physical wounds, and will fix broken limbs without a splint or cast in moments. However, as I have found to my cost, it is ineffective against poisons and diseases, or any mental conditions that you may face. Thus, it is imperative that you not make my mistake, and be cautious around the undead, for some have poisoned weapons, and some of those with flesh upon them still will hold diseases.

The lich, I believe, is after one of two things – or possibly both. Firstly, these are excellent locations from which to launch attacks against the Wildlands and the creatures within it. There are few of the civilised races here following the war and the ban on the claiming of land within the Wild, but the lich could feasibly create an immense army from the humans and elves and dwarves here, as well as any of the larger beasts, of which there are many.

I should probably explain the last – creatures below a certain intellect cannot be raised, nor can those below or above a certain body size. For example, a housecat or elephant could not be raised, but a horse or terrorbird can. There are some beasts that are naturally resistant, but they will be drakes and phoenixes and such, and thus their remains have greater rewards from other opportunities.

The second of the issues is regarding the armouries and power source. Each armoury has significantly more powerful weapons than are generally available, and I have not seen the lich using them at all, so I cannot imagine that it has broken through the enchantments sealing the armouries away. I can imagine it is trying though, so you may find that it has succeeded in some way, and you must be cautious upon seeing any well-kept weaponry, as it may be highly magical. The power source I mentioned is also well-hidden and sealed, but should the lich gain control of it, it may be able to leech off the power for its own use, increasing the power of its spells immensely.

The sealing spell that holds you and the lich within these walls will not last forever. I cannot say what the limit is for I do not know, but I should caution you – you must hurry, but you also cannot risk speed. I am sorry to leave this complication in your hands – I have faith that the summoning spell I laid here has done as desired and caught a champion who will finish my task, but I also cannot help but worry for you. I wish that I could see you, to speak to you directly, but these missives, laid out to be read over certain milestones, shall have to be the limit of our interaction.

I hope you can forgive this foolish dying woman, but even if not I still wish the Gods to go with you on this journey.

I sat back, feeling overwhelmed. I wondered whether something had gone wrong with the spell that she claimed had brought me here, perhaps age had corrupted the instructions and made it so that whoever was affected would be more inclined towards action against the undead. Even if so, I felt a resonance within me – this was something important – something that could save hundreds or thousands of lives. I wished that the spell had called more people in, with more experience than I, but here I was, and apparently I was the only one who could help. Part of me resented that, but another part determined to make the best of this, to do what I could to help.

I was terrified by the threat of the lich though. The idea that some ancient dusty being could send death my way from wherever it was without even seeing me was horrifying. I flicked back to the other page, and read those words again. Assuming that this was the healing spell that Nberi had mentioned, I held out a hand, and focussed on that, speaking the words. Nothing happened. I tried various pronunciations, but still nothing. Disappointed, I flicked to the shapeshifting paper, and read that. The instructions were extremely clear here, including visualisations, words, and a brief paragraph that seemed to explain what I was missing.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Whilst speaking the words, remember to channel power through to the point from which the power needs to come. While this is usually one’s hands, in shapeshifting the power must enter your core, which will carry the energies to the whole body.

Below this were instructions on how to channel this power, which seemed, in concept, relatively simple. It was almost meditation, emptying the mind, allowing your thoughts to flow, and bringing the power from your ‘core.’

Following the instructions given, and feeling vaguely silly about the whole thing, I sat on the floor, closed my eyes, and tried to picture this, ‘core.’ I felt that it would be a mystical blue colour, deep ocean-blue in the middle and bright electric blue at the edges. Originally, I thought of a simple circle, but as I meditated it changed to a sphere that moved and reflected like water but flickered and danced inside like fire. The image came to me unbidden, but it seemed to fit so I stuck with it. Once that was in place it felt easy – I could feel a tingle throughout my body as I drew the power to my hand, and spoke the words of the healing spell, forming my fingers into the correct positions for each word. I looked at my hand, and saw a silver-green haze, an aura rising from my palm. I instantly stopped channelling and took a huge breath, grinning hugely to myself, like I’d just had my first kiss. I felt slightly unsteady for a moment as for the second time that day my vision flashed gold and white. I wondered if that was a symptom of some mental illness that was causing this odd experience, but quickly discarded that again, given how real everything felt. I suspected that this episode was as a result of casting the spell - maybe I had done something wrong and this was the result of some sort of magical feedback. I grinned again at the thought of having cast real magic.

I tried the healing spell several times to test the theory, but never got the same feeling so I assumed it had been a one-off problem. I did feel a slight draining feeling though – each time I cast the spell it felt as though energy left me, leaving me with less of...something. I guessed it was the mana that the instructions talked about, but had no real clue how that energy regenerated, or really how to tell how much I had to use.

I experimented some more, and realised that while I was meditating I could feel the energies recover, though there were no numbers to help me understand those levels, I was pretty sure I could cast twelve or thirteen healing spells before being out of energy.

Finally, I steeled myself for the last test, and read through the shape-changing spell thoroughly. Feeling seriously nervous, I went through the motions slowly, the power, words and mental projection needed to form the spell joining together smoothly and more easily than I had expected. The transformation felt just as slow and careful as my casting had been, and rather than the painful werewolf-like shift I had expected, the change was like a slow pulse that began just below my sternum and spread through my entire body. I could feel the energies surrounding me as my vision altered, the colours fading slightly but the world becoming sharper somehow. I could smell better too, though nearby the only items of note were the fading scent of the food from earlier and the dry smells of the stone and wood around me. My hearing was vastly improved, and it felt as though every tiny thing was letting me know where it was – every sound’s origin was obvious to me. My whiskers were incredibly sensitive, and I felt even the tiniest breeze. I spent an unknown time exploring this sensory overload, and walking around the room to work out how to move in this new form. The tail especially was confusing, but since it seemed to know what to do all by itself, I decided to not override its decisions.

I changed back and forth a few times, getting more confident each time, until I realised that I hadn’t eaten, and the sun seemed to be going down outside, going by the orange-red light showing around the door. I quickly grabbed some food, and decided it wasn’t worth exploring further this late, so I went to bed.

I awoke early again – the light was pale, so I assumed just past dawn. I felt refreshed though the bed exceptionally comfortable and warm. I felt even better after eating and using the shower in the next room. I was surprised to see that there was no mirror there either, but it didn’t feel as though anything was needed there. I couldn’t find anything to shave with, so left the several days’ worth of stubble that I had on me, thinking that since I wasn’t intending to spend all that much time in human form, it was unlikely to be an issue. Plus, I’d worn a beard most of my adult life, it was only since Paul had died that I had felt the need to shave regularly.

With a deep breath, I opened the door to the next area, and turned into the cat. Taking a few moments to re-familiarise myself with the form, I managed to work my way through the corridors and back to where I had seen the skeleton without making any sound. Nothing had replaced the monster, but I could see another exit to the room, now that I was not unnaturally focused on the undead thing. The rooms again felt oppressive, as if something were watching for me, and I tried to keep my focus on everything around me.

I suddenly remembered the door that I had ignored before, and quickly headed back to check into it. I was disappointed to find a closet-sized room, though again empty with shards of wood littering the floor. Holes on the walls above the remains of flat planks made me believe that these were the remnants of shelving, and I guessed that every one of them had been.

I went back to the new area, and stalked through the slightly collapsed doorway, keeping to shadows, trying to walk as a real cat would – though with little idea of what that actually meant, I gave that up after only a few minutes. Another room sat there, this one some sort of kitchen. The massive metal stoves along one wall and sheer number of pots and pans made me realise that this place had at one time hosted tens if not hundreds of people, and I felt a strange wave of sorrow for the loss of so many sentient beings. I realised then that their mortal remains were likely the same things that now roamed this place, and another wave hit me, this one of revulsion and anger. Someone had murdered these people, and was now using their corpses as an army. It was possible that this was their only reason for murdering so many, and I felt my lips curl in a snarl as I contemplated what such a being deserved.

Stalking through the next doorway and into the corridor beyond, another skeleton walked slowly along, it’s back towards me. Instinct took over, and I swallowed a rumbled growl that had begun in my chest. I crept closer, and found myself crouching, muscles bunching. There was a strange swaying sensation in my back legs as I judged the distance to the abomination, and I leapt.

There was a clatter as the skeleton fell, and it sprawled beneath me. My front legs pinned its shoulders to the stone floor, and I bit down hard on the vertebrae at the back of its neck. With a growling shake, I ripped the skull free, and the dark tendrils that had animated the thing vanished. Again, I felt a strange rushing vertigo, and my mind cleared. I shook my head to clear it, and shuddered all over. I could feel my tail lashing, which was an odd sensation, and I wondered again what it was that made me hate these things so much. It was more than just the abhorrence I felt to all reminders of my own mortality, or the underlying disgust at what someone had done to the remains of these people. There was something in me that needed their destruction, and it didn’t feel like my need.

Shaking myself again, I looked over the remains below me. It was armoured, though in a rotted jerkin of leather and metal plates, and had carried a curved blade that looked much like what I assumed a scimitar would look like, only rather thinner, and not quite as curved as in those games and films that Tim and Fiona had loved. It was splotched with rust and a green residue – maybe verdigris? – and was clearly old and not well cared for. I found it interesting to compare this with the well-maintained armour and staff that had been left for me, and found myself assuming that magic had something to do with it.

After a few moments, I headed further in. There were two more skeletons in the next room, and I managed to dispatch them in the same way as I had the last. When I destroyed the first one, the second didn’t react at all, just kept moving on its assigned path, completely unaware of its compatriot’s destruction. I would have assumed that they were incapable of self-defence had the second not managed to hit me on the flank with the flat of its blade before I could rip off the skull. I felt a light bruise begin there, and decided that I wasn’t interested in facing one of these things fairly, just in case.