The crypt was silent as the Dark Lord looked down on charred corpses from his throne, yet he sensed another, one still alive, hiding.

His soft voice reverberated throughout the cavernous space, "Reveal yourself."

After a few seconds, he heard scratching, scraping, from the opposite end of the room. Slowly, a small man stood from behind a pillar and leaned against it, his right leg ruined beyond repair. He was sweating from the effort. The expression on his face was twisted from pain and exertion.

The Dark Lord cocked his head in thought٫ “I suppose you would've ran...if not for your leg." A small laugh escaped the man's lips, though in the moment it sounded more like a cough, "You're not wrong."

Red eyes scanned the injury and then flicked again back to the man's face. "Do you wish to leave? ....Or would you rather die here?"

Surprise briefly registered in the man's expression before pain regained its hold. "That depends..."

Patiently, the cloaked creature waited for him to finish.

"Does everyone get the chance to face you one on one like this?"

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

It was the Dark Lord's turn to be surprised, though his skeletal face was unable to show it. His eyes glowed with curiosity, "No. They always come in large groups..." The lich stood and soundlessly made his way over to the man. "They aren't usually all that eager to speak with their words, rather they prefer to initiate a more aggressive kind of... engagement."

The man squeezed his eyes shut. But it was not in fear, the Dark Lord realized. Again, the creature looked down at the man's injury. It was far more grotesque up close. "My power is in contradiction with the divine. It's why many come here to slay me." The man opened his eyes to see red orbs peering into him. "You will die from that wound. I cannot help you with divine means."

Shock shook the man's eyes. "What.. do you mean? You wish to... help me?" Hearing it out loud made the lich hesitate. The creature turned from him. "My power comes with a price. It's one I'm often able to appreciate... Though, sometimes, it's more than I can bear."

The man looked down at his leg. "You do not need to help me." The Dark Lord halted and joined the man's gaze, watching the gnarled limb. Abruptly, it began to change. Muscle and flesh, with long spidery digits, began to sew itself together. Blood pulled itself against gravity to rise back into the closing wound. Fascination held the lich's focus as he bore witness to something remarkable. Not a spell nor chant urged the man's body to heal itself, and it was done on command with a single thought.

Suddenly, the cloaked creature felt a chill. This was not a divine work. It was not like his ability either. It was far more sinister. The Dark Lord stepped back, away from the man. Something was very wrong.

Power ebbed and flowed from everything, even the very walls of the crypt. Then the lich noticed something far more worrying. Power was being taken from him. "What are you doing!?"

"I plan to save you from your loneliness, brother."

The creature's eyes glowed dimmer, "I have no brother."

"You did, once."

"That was centuries ago. He is long dead."

"No. He spent lifetimes trying to find a way to save you. You were all he had left.... He didn't appreciate being left behind."

Strength left the lich's knees and he collapsed on the cold stone floor. "It was to protect him," the skeleton rasped. "I am not human. Not anymore."

"That's where you're wrong."

The Dark Lord's arms could no longer hold up his body, not without the accursed power he'd sacrificed too much to have, including the sacrifice of his brother. His consciousness faded٫ leaving yet another corpse on the cold, scorched stone.