Sorcerer's Shadow

Alyssra Volade scrutinized the floor, her expression mirroring mine when I'm mulling over how to diplomatically phrase something. She gave a subtle nod and then raised her eyes. "Are you familiar with the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?"

I responded, "I believe so."

"Not many can master Sorcery, Necromancy, and other fields to seamlessly blend them. Most Wizards belong to either the House of Lurivox or the House of Pardus. Anatole is a Lurivox."

"The name again?"

"Anatole."

"I'm not familiar with him."

"No, you wouldn't be. He's not known for any significant achievements. Primarily, he's a magic researcher, like most Lurivox Wizards. If it helps, he discovered a technique to temporarily preserve the dying's last thoughts in liquids. He aimed to enhance the reliability of communicating with the deceased by introducing a method of..."

Several moments passed, Alyssra sinking into a discourse of arcane practices that held little relevance to me. I interjected, "Alright, let's assume he excels in his field. What's my part in all this?"

A faint smile graced her pale, slender lips. "He possesses a particular rod or scepter, housing a necromantic peculiarity – the spirit of an entity trapped between life and death, unable to cross over to the Plane of Waiting Souls, forbidden from traversing the Paths of the Dead, unable to—"

"Alright," I cut in. "A scepter with a trapped soul. Proceed."

Drevolan shifted uncomfortably, his jawline hardening. His intense gaze remained fixed on me, hinting at a strain to maintain composure. I realized then that they needed me more than I had initially thought.

Alyssra continued, "We've tried reasoning with him extensively, but his stubbornness prevails. The soul he's confined is an endless fountain of knowledge, vital to his research. He secured this soul just after the Regency Break ended, and he has no intention of parting with it. We've been attempting to persuade him to sell or exchange it for several weeks now, since discovering its location. This soul has been our object of search for over two centuries."

As the picture began to form in my mind, my enthusiasm waned. Nevertheless, I said, "Okay, continue. Where do I fit in?"

"We need you to infiltrate his stronghold and purloin the scepter."

My response was swift, "I'm grappling to find a courteous way of saying 'go to hell,' and coming up short."

"You needn't be cordial," Alyssra responded with a smile that sent shivers down my spine. "I passed away before the Regency Break. Will you accept the task?"

A solitary candle flickered, casting eerie shadows around.

"Let's backtrack a bit," I proposed. "If you desire this scepter so fervently, why don't you and Lord Drevolan storm his stronghold and seize it?"

"We would have loved to," Drevolan interjected.

Alyssra concurred, "Invading an Lurivox wizard's stronghold is no child's play. Perhaps if I were capable of leaving...but let's not delve into that."

Skeptically, I stated, "Okay, but listen: I don't know how much you know about me or what you think you know, but thievery isn't my forte. I don't specialize in break-ins or heists. I don't know what led you to believe that I could—"

"We're well aware of your capabilities," the Enchantress interrupted.

An uneasy feeling crept over me. "If you know so much, then you must know that I'm not—"

"Close enough," Drevolan cut me off.

"The crux is," Alyssra Volade intervened before I could retort, "the unique nature of Anatole's security system."

"Hmmm, okay," I replied. "Enlighten me."

"He's got an intricate network of spells guarding his stronghold that monitor every human's presence, instantly alerting him to any intruders. Drevolan and I lack the skills to neutralize these alarms."

I scoffed, "And you believe I can?"

"You missed the point," Drevolan corrected. "His spells detect human beings – not Terrans."

"Oh," was all I managed to utter. Then, "Are you certain?"

"Yes," affirmed Alyssra. "Moreover, we believe his overreliance on these alarms has left his stronghold inadequately defended against a Terran like you."

"Do you have any knowledge of the interior?" I asked.

"No. However, I trust in your ability to—"

"Perhaps," I interjected.

Alyssra proceeded. "Once you're within, Drevolan stands ready to assist you."

A nagging voice in my head noted that Alyssra seemed to be taking for granted that I would agree to this wild scheme, and might not take kindly to my refusal. But I was intrigued, perhaps captivated would be a more accurate description.

"Well?" Drevolan prompted.

I asked, "Well, what?"

"Will you undertake the task?"

Regretfully, I shook my head. "No can do. As I've reiterated, I'm not cut out for burglary. I'd just mess it up."

Drevolan persisted, "You are capable."

I responded sarcastically, "Sure."

He continued, "You are a Terran."

I glanced down at my body, studying my hands and feet. "Oh, is that so? You don't say."

Alyssra finally revealed, "The entity trapped in that scepter was once a dear friend of ours."

"That's all well and good," I replied. "However, that doesn't—"

Alyssra interjected, "Seven thousand gold imperials."

I paused before responding, "Oh, quite a cherished friend then?"

Our smiles mirrored each other.

"Half upfront," I stipulated.

* * * *

My grandfather was a devout man, though he never pushed his beliefs onto others. My father dismissed the Terran deities, much like he dismissed everything Terran. Hence, I naturally spent many hours discussing the Terran gods with my grandfather.

"But Vost-pa, even some Imperions worship Nyxara."

"Never utter that name, Viktor. Refer to her as the Demon Goddess."

"Why?"

"Speaking her name could incur her wrath."

"But she never retaliates against the Imperions."

"We are not Imperions. Their worship differs from ours. Many of them acknowledge her, but see her merely as a powerful being. They fail to comprehend the true nature of a goddess as we do."

"What if they are right, and we are mistaken?"

"Viktor, it's not a question of right and wrong. It's the fundamental difference between our lineage and that of the Imperions and beasts – and the lineage of the gods."

That was a bit too much for me to digest, and I couldn't quite make sense of it. I asked, "But what is she really like?"

"She is unpredictable, but values loyalty. She may safeguard you in times of peril."

"Is she similar to Celethor?"

"No, Celethor is her antithesis in all aspects."

"Yet, they are said to be lovers."

"Who fed you that notion?"

"Some Imperions."

"Well, whether it's true or not is none of our business."

"Why do you venerate the Demon Goddess and not Celethor?"

"She is the protector of our land."

"Do the rumors of her enjoying blood sacrifices hold any truth? That's what the Imperions claim."

He was silent for a moment, then finally said, "There are other means to honor her and gain her favor. In our lineage, we refrain from blood sacrifices. Do you comprehend this?"

"I do, Vost-pa."

"You will never offer a soul as a sacrifice to her or any other deity."

"I won't, Vost-pa. I promise."

"Do you pledge this, based on your abilities as a Sorcerer and your blood as my descendant?"

"Yes, Vost-pa. I swear."

"Good, Viktor."

"But why?"

He shook his head. "In time, you'll understand."

Unfortunately, that was one prediction my grandfather got wrong; I still don't understand.

* * * *