A being as near to a god as any sentient being could be had been slain, and even unknown years later, was doing all that it could to recover and live. And it could not. Not from that wound,made by that sword. A sword created to kill, no matter the severity of the blow it made.
And so the skull was trapped, forever. It hurt his heart to see his suspicions confirmed—there was asoulthere, rich blue cobalt energy coiled around the very core of the artifact, visible only at this depth of seeing with his inner vision. It was wholly unlike anything he’d ever seen or felt, and he was not sure if it was aware of him or his efforts, but it made no move to stop him or interfere.
Ezra reached out with his mind and magics, and slid into the transition point where the elemental magics inherent to the once-living being were converted into death magics. The energies swirled and fought each other, the transition as volatile as any chemical reaction could be, resulting in the storm overhead. Perpetually trying to heal, and perpetually dying.
What a horrible existence to be trapped within.
Once he settled himself in that space of infinitesimal nothingness, Ezra turned his mind away from the life magics and sent his focus to the magics he could affect—the death magics came easily to his mental hands, cool and sleek, an almost sentient being itself, and he had to fight to urge to pet it. It wasn’t time for his imagination to run wild.
All he had to do was interrupt the cycle.
He yanked, putting every ounce of his own mental and magical reserves into the move, and pulled the tail end of the ouroboros of death out of the cycle, channeling it instead into the earth beneath him. Down and down some more, beneath the frozen earth and past dead roots and decomposing bodies and organic matter, through underground rivers and lakes, deeper and deeper still until he found the ancient heart of the world. He held it there, pushing and shoving with all his mental strength, until it stopped struggling to return to the endless cycle and flowed where he pointed it.
Into the endless pool of death magics that spun within the molten core of the earth, as endless as the cycle of life itself. Most necromancers called that well the primordial death magics, and theorized all sorts of things—like it was the source of the sentient undead, such as vampires. That well was infinite, nearly impossible for a mortal to access and survive the experience, and it could hold the constant flow of the skull’s perpetual death magics.
He felt it when the storm died. The pressure changed, and he floated upward, away from the primordial well of unending death magics, and had just enough focus left to return his mind to his body before passing out.
CHAPTER SIX
EZRA
The sandpaper affections of Lilith woke him in time to save what was left of his nose from her tongue. Shemerpedat him, flicking her tail, and promptly turned around and showed him her butt in displeasure before settling down to nap on his chest.
Everything hurt. Top to bottom. “Hecate’s spine, what the fuck,” he groaned, voice rough and cracking.
He was thankful as always that the patron goddess of necromancers didn’t mind casual blasphemy, as he was going to be swearing a lot more considering how horrible he felt.
He wiggled his toes and was glad to find them all present and accounted for, along with his fingers. That meant Grendel and the others got him out of the forest before frostbite claimed any body parts. With a wiggle he snuck a hand under the white blanket pulled up to his chin and checked the most important appendage. Which was fine, if a bit demanding in its need for the bathroom.
Ezra swore softly as he tried to sit up, managing to roll enough to dislodge Lilith, who took the warm spot the second he was far enough over.
The room was unfamiliar, and he squinted at the white walls, the tall ceiling with a slowly rotating fan, and the floor to ceiling windows that took up the left wall. The sun was pouring into the room, and he couldn’t make out much beyond the windows, but he heard faint sounds of traffic and people. His bags were stacked beside the closed door on the wall opposite his bed, and an open door on the right wall led to a small bathroom, lights off, but it was bright enough to reveal a white sink and part of a white claw-foot tub. He could see directly into the bathroom from the bed, and he was glad for the proximity, suspecting he might fall if he stood too quickly.
Ezra rubbed at his eyes and face, trying to wake himself up enough to drag his ass out of bed. He wasn’t too worried about the state of himself or the world—the sun was shining, and Lilith was with him. There was even a cheap plastic litter box set up under the sink in the bathroom, and a couple bowls of food and water were tucked out of the way along the wall next to his stuff.
Careful not to squish his familiar, Ezra eased out of bed, grimacing at his shaking limbs and building headache. He was stripped down to his boxer briefs and there was a hospital band on his right wrist and a bandage on the inside of his left elbow from an IV. He wasn’t currently attached to anything though, so he was probably in a recovery room somewhere after he cleared the emergency department.
It was only a few steps to the bathroom, but it felt like a mile, and he wasn’t ashamed of the breaks he took between using the toilet and looking for a toothbrush. Thankfully there was a sealed travel toiletry kit set on the counter beside the basin, and he drank enough water from the tap to feel some sort of life return to his arms and legs. He cleaned up at the sink as best he could, wincing as he brushed his teeth, the movement enough to make it feel like his brain was bruised. His head still hurt something fierce but considering the huge amount of personalenergy he spent in redirecting the skull’s destructive magics, he was glad to be alive.
He sat on the edge of the tub for a bit and then found the strength to shower, glad that, whoever his host was, they were kind enough to leave out some towels and a simple bar of soap. The bandage and wrist band went in the trash, and he didn’t seem to have anything worse than slight bruising at the IV site.
The pain in his head settled down to a dull ache at the base of his skull when he finally walked out of the bathroom, carefully rubbing his hair with a towel to dry it. He didn’t know where his comb was, so he ran his fingers through the damp strands until it felt relatively neat. Thankfully his hair didn’t do much except get a bit wavy. He tossed the towel on the end of the bed and slowly made his way over to his stuff.
He wasn’t worried about walking around naked as he fumbled through his bags looking for the one holding his clothing, far too achy and out of it to give a shit.
Black t-shirt, soft, well-worn jeans, clean boxer briefs, socks, and his boots were all he managed before sitting on the bed to catch his breath. Lilith slow-blinked at him from her spot on the bed, tail flicking contentedly.
“Time to see who our hosts are, huh?” Voice a bit ragged, he coughed, wishing for some coffee and carbs.
She stood gracefully from her kitty loaf and stretched, yawning wide.
“Ahh, big yawn,” he complimented his familiar, and Ezra scratched her chin for a bit to calm his mind before he braved whatever was on the other side of the door. He was tempted to grab his meds but didn’t know what drugs they might have given him while he was out of it, so he figured a day unmedicated would be fine if he took it slowly.
He stood after he figured he might as well get it over with, Lilith jumping down to follow at his heels as he went to the doorand opened it. There was a key inserted into the outside of the doorknob, a plain white plastic keychain dangling from it, and Ezra took the key, locked the door, and shut it before pocketing the key to the room.
He stood in a narrow hallway with grey-washed wooden floors and white walls, framed by a tall ceiling with skylights. The sky overhead was bright blue with a few wispy clouds racing across the bit he could see through the glass. The hallway ended to his right at a window looking across a short green space to another building, so he went left, heading for the sound of people.
The hall emptied into a large common area, a cold fireplace off on the far wall, and two big hallways on his left and right converging on the space. There was a stone patio and open French doors, and the warm breeze kicked up and flirted with the gauzy white curtains. Over the fireplace was a stone relief, and he felt a jolt of recognition at the sight of the triform of the goddess Hecate. She was holding the symbols of Her power: the key, torch, snake, and dagger. At the feet of the triform relief were two dogs, standing sentinel.
