“So long… no one came,” the creature sounded almost mournful.
Finley blinked. How long had this creature been here? Since the city was locked down by Vex? It had to be. No one had been able to find Illithor or enter it since then. Until the Leviathan came. But something must have happened to let them in. But this creature… this creature had been here much longer than the Leviathan had, he guessed. He was definitely guessing, but it felt right. If the Leviathan had been here any great length of time, they would have broken through to Earth far before they actually had. And this thing had been here longer than five years or ten or twenty…
“The city has been… abandoned.” Finley shook his head. That wasn’t quite right. How to describe it? “Preserved. Uhm. For later. But no one has been here in some time. But… but maybe you know this? Did you come here right at the end when Vex told everyone to leave, right? Just before the deadline maybe? When it was empty? And you thought you could… take the book and dagger?”
That’s what he would have done. Waited until the place was practically deserted then gone after the powerful artifacts himself. No priests would be here to guard them. No worshippers to get in the way. No one to see or stop or know. Then the dagger and the book would be his. Except it hadn’t quite worked out that way for this being. Because it was still here. Still alive… somehow.
“You didn’t get out,” Finley remarked softly. “You didn’t make it.”
The figure’s shoulders rose and fell.Was it breathing? It didn’t need to breathe. There couldn’t be much of its lungs left. So it was likely the memory of a need to breathe.
Disturbing.
“Trapped… here,” the creature murmured and more rot flooded Finley’s face.
He coughed, trying to clear that smell from his nose and throat. The creature tilted its head to the side. Did it know what it looked like? What it had become? The horror it now was?
Does this kind of magic always lead to this end?
Living with elves had made Finley ultra conscious of age and imperfection. In some ways, he found the wrinkles on human faces all the more lovely and precious because they would never appear on elven ones. But, at the same time, it was hard to be among beings that were so preternaturally beautiful. Though he criticized Rhalyf for his narcissism about his looks, he realized now how much more honest that was than the other elves that just acted as if they were naturally better. To be aware of one’s looks was to know one could be improved or downgraded.
Rhalyf… I wish he was here. He would know what to do. But no! I have to do this by myself. And if I succeed in gaining magic then he and I can be equals. Maybe I can show him things that will amaze him and leave him speechless!
“Defenses,” the creature suddenly said.
“Yes? The skeletons?” Finley tipped his head towards the dead that surrounded the creature. “You took the book and the knife. But they trapped you.”
The creature tilted its head as it regarded him, but said nothing. Finley looked over his shoulder at the still and waiting skeletons then his eyes dropped to the old dried blood semi-circle the creature had drawn about itself.
“You figured out how to keep them away,” Finley murmured. “But the book… the dagger… they weren’t enough to get you out?” Finley asked.
“Not in time,” the creature finally answered.
Time? This creature has had nothing but time.
“In time?” Finley blinked. “How did you run out of time?”
“Taught me.” It tilted its head to the book that was still tucked in the waistband of its rotting clothing.
Finley’s heart rate rose. The book had allowed this being to stay alive through the ages. Assuming it wasn’t an elf and immortal to begin with. He stared carefully at the hood and the ears within it. Were they pointed? They didn’t look pointed.
Everyone has told me that humans can’t wield magic like elves or other immortal beings can. Does it run the opposite way too? Can elves not wield this magic? Could this person be a mortal? Or was once a mortal?
The idea of becoming this in exchange for power didn’t appeal to Finley. He wanted to be able to protect himself and his friends. But he didn’t want to become a lich… A lich! That’s what this thing reminded him of from D&D. A mage who had gone beyond death. But still… did great power always mean great horribleness?
Maybe it didn’t use the magic correctly. It must not have. It’s been stuck here. What kind of great magic couldn’t get past a dozen or so skeletons? No, its the user that’s the problem. The student. Not the teacher. It shouldn’t have the book…
“You learned from the book?” Finley clarified after he realized he’d been silent too long.
The creature was leaning towards him. It pulled back when he spoke. What had it been intending to do? He should step back. He should…
“Great power,” it murmured softly.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure it does have that,” Finley answered.
Vex must know how great a power this is. Why give it to me? Why leave it here with this creature? Surely Vex could easily take the book and knife and… he must not be able to use it. This power elves cannot use. So he sent me… no, he just told me about it. And if I can take it…
“Why did you come?” the creature asked. “For power?”
