“What do you mean, it saw you? You’re an oracle, Kedel, not some scrying wizard.”

“I meant what I said Lorgana! Things are changing deep below, as they ever were and ever will be- but it’s changed out of change!”

“Calm down Kedel, you’re not making any sense.”

“NEITHER DID THE EYES LORGANA! There’s no light Lorgana, why would it have eyes? THERE HAS TO BE A REASON!”

-‘Fly on the Wall: The Autobiography of an Anonymous Illusionist’, chapter 12: Don’t Spy on the Future

Vreem- seconds later

Normally I would tense up as my two ‘teammates’ vanish, but that would imply that I’m not already tense and ready to flee. There is no fighting this enemy- and I know that they are my enemy, turning to look at me with a cold, calculating expression.

“What makes you think there is a soul in my paperweight Vreem? That’s fairly absurd after all.”

I consider telling the truth, in accordance with the Way of Things; that I can feel a resonance when I stretch my soul out and surround it, that I can practically taste the vulnerable collection of self-aware mana hidden within that immutable shell. But the Ways don’t apply to an Enemy of Death, they don’t acknowledge those artificial immortals as people any more than a corpse is. I have no obligation to tell this husk the truth.

“When you released your presence to cow the others, the source was not your body. It was the stone. Why do you allow mortals in your presence?”

Hoplix’s eyes sparkle with some unknowable emotion, and her cold stare lets up into merely a calculating gaze.

“You make it sound like I’m not mortal myself. Do you have an accusation to make?”

“I thought that we both knew. You are an Enemy of Death, antithetical to the Way of Things and a grain of sand threatening to clog up the gears of the cosmic engine that drives everything forward and onward.” the moment I mention the Way of Things, her unsettling smile returns- and I am difficult to unsettle.

“So you know of the Way of Things? Fascinating. You, Vreem, are my favorite kind of topic to study- one invested in keeping their secrets. Even better, you aren’t susceptible to the usual methods of prying out knowledge; I doubt I could bribe you with a million gold, torture is unlikely to do more than waste both our time, and your mind is so well fortified I’m not even going to try and crack it open magically. So that leaves me with only one option- destroy you, and learn what I can from your corpse, or allow you to continue along your business and observe you from a distance. Understand?”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I cannot fathom your logic.”

“Excellent! Now let’s set some ground rules for this game we’re playing. First of all, questions. Whenever you feel like, I’ll truthfully answer any question you offer- in exchange, for each question you ask of me, I would like you to give me one truthful answer in turn. Sound fair?”

“It doesn’t sound like I have a choice, so I’ll accept it. What are the other rules you wish for this ‘game’?”

“Rule two: don’t expect mercy, and don’t waste time trying to escape. I want to be kept guessing, and the moment that I believe I know everything I need to, you will go from a student to a dissection subject.” Guaranteed death? That doesn’t appeal to me much.

“If there is no path to victory for me, I will destroy myself to spite you and your heathenous plans. You are a bored immortal with no true challengers, an undead abomination using a breathing flesh puppet,” a bit like me… a concerning thought. “If I can keep you ‘guessing’ until I graduate from the academy, do I have your word that you will allow me to leave?”

“Of course- I don’t expect you to make it through even one year, let alone the minimum of four it would take you to graduate. Now, fourthly and finally; I don’t know the extent of your capabilities, I don’t know if you were going easy on Jensen and I don’t know what you can do, but I’d appreciate if you could refrain from mass murder, societal destabilisation, and any other irritating disruptions to my plans. Play nice. Now, any questions right off the bat?”

She speaks as if Solwick is stable to begin with, as if the ‘masses’ wouldn’t tear me into confetti given half a chance. It would be a massive waste of time to try and make things worse.

“Only one question. What is your true form?”

She seems surprised. Did she expect me to ask for arcane secrets? Magical techniques, pleadings for mercy? As if anything I learn from her wouldn’t be a poisoned apple. As if an undead knows mercy. Instead of answering with words, she smiles faintly as the skin of her face begins to bubble and boil, evaporating into a noxious smog- and a second later, fire that burns as black as the void shines through it. The ‘paperweight’ from earlier, resting on a skeletal palm, burning eternally but never even warmed. I now sit before a corpse, a polished and preserved skeleton possessed by a loose soul reaching out from that immutable stone. It is uncomfortably similar to how I exist now… unnerving. It also reminds me how far I’ve fallen; in the depths, such an existence would have been barely a scavenger. Here, on the surface… it represents a force I cannot hope to match. I’m barely confident I could hurt them, like a wasp stinging the hand that swats it.

“This should answer your question. Now, my turn; where do you hail from, Vreem? My guess is that you’re a visitor from the outer realms, or the Realm Where Logic Died.”

Her voice is forceful, no longer muffled by unnecessary flesh and sinew. I am uncowed; not out of courage, but simply because I mangled that aspect of myself beyond recognition.

“I am from the material plane, just like any organism. I am not from the surface. My first memories are of the Beneath.”

“Well then Vreem from Beneath, if you have no further questions,” the mist recondenses, pouring back into skin, hair and eyes even as the black flames pull themselves back into their stone. When she continues speaking, she is once again flesh and blood- just in time for Professor Jensen to knock on the door, and open it without waiting for an answer. “I would ask Professor Jensen to escort you back to your room. Do have a nice day; you’ll need all the rest you can get.”