The Nuclear Option

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I took my time returning to the monitoring area after lunch, stopping off at my palace apartments along the way to pick up a few things.

I really shouldn't be this upset that my experiments were being cut short. I mean, they didn't hire me to fill tomes with knowledge; they needed me to create a devastating weapon to use against their enemies, and they needed it faster than I had anticipated. I simply got lost in my research, and wasn't moving as quick as they'd like.

The king didn't want anything fancy. He wanted something quick and dirty to exploit, something to create an opening for his forces and nothing more.

It seemed that he didn't care for the possible strategic openings that my works could give him. Edar'axa was simply looking to get revenge for his ancestors. Blood for ancient blood.

If he wanted to take the brute force route, then I would give him brute force. I just wish that he wouldn't have waited this long to tell me, wasting my valuable time when I could have been in the depths of Ankhas, searching for--no... No, not down there. Anywhere but there.

Two Alchemists who were on their shifts in the examination room looked up from their work as I violently threw the doors open. Neither of the two dark elves jumped from my sudden outburst, or had any sort of reaction really as I stormed up to them.

"The experiments have been cancelled," I growled, my eyes flickering in anger behind my mythril mask. The two Alerarans looked at each other in confusion. I nearly knocked one of them over as I shoved a handful of scrolls into his arms. "Take these to the Artificers' Guild, and have them start producing what's drawn up to my exact specifications. We need two thousand of them by the month's end. You--" I pointed at my other assistant, "--tell the others you worked with in the lab that we need more of the viruses cultivated. Each of the five we injected into the experimental subjects here. We need enough to fill two thousand cartridges as specified here--" I shoved the other stack of papers into her hands. "How much of each pathogen that is required is listed in the notes."

They looked at each other for a brief moment, confusion plainly written on their faces.

"What about them," the one on the left asked, nodding towards the subjects bound to their beds.

"Go," I snapped at them, pointing towards the open door leading back into the palace. The two guildsmen quickly left the room, leaving me by myself.

Deep breath, exhale, I told myself. Deep breath, exhale. It'll be okay. It doesn't matter what the king wants now, you have access to Ankhas. You will have what is yours, chosen.

The words lingered on the edges of my mind as I screamed. "Leave me alone! I am not your chosen!" My cries echoed off the white walls of the sterilized room. A small metal table flew through the air, crashing against the wall and sending the examination instruments that were previously on it scattering across the floor. The legs of the four beds that still held their subjects shook and rattled against the floor as they struggled to protect themselves from my outburst.

The red anger that clouded my mind quickly faded after a second table hit the opposite wall. My breath was ragged, and my head was pounding. I stood still and silent for several seconds, trying to regain my senses. I could feel four pairs of unfocused eyes staring at me, full of fear.

Slowly, I reached into my pocket and produced a small glass vial with a clear liquid and a syringe. Wordlessly, I approached the first bed. It was the Raiaeran who went into shock. I took a good look at him for the first time since he arrived. His health was failing, but his features still contained a strong light that desperately fought the contagion that wracked his body. His eyes were a deep emerald green, but the whites were clouding over. Two weeks worth of salt and pepper beard circled his full lips. Twin scars lined his right cheek, just above the bone. For a moment, I wondered what kind of life he lived before the Alerarans sacked the outpost he was in. What had he seen in his travels? Who had he met? What did he know? Was he stationed at the outpost when the Alerarans attacked? Or was he at the wrong place at the wrong time, an unfortunate victim of circumstance?

I popped the protective cap off the needle and drew out a small amount of the vial's contents. The elf's eyes locked with mine, and he did not look away as I gently inserted the syringe into his arm and pushed the plunger. His strong eyes fluttered for a brief moment, then unfocused and closed as he let out a soft sigh.

He was dead before I reached the next bed.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The horrible dreams returned that night.

I found myself again on the rolling plains of Raiaera. The only word that could be used to describe anything was "death". The earth itself had died below my feet, cracked and barren and stained with the blood of thousands upon thousands. Their corpses were scattered about in various states of decay. Not even the crows who circled overhead in the stormy sky dared to land out of fear that they would be next. The threat of heavy downpours did nothing to abate the stench of decay from overloading my senses. As I covered my nose with my arm to try and block the odor out, I could make out movement in the distance.

Whatever it was, it was closing in fast--a shambling mass of shadows, which slowly morphed into an army of the undead as it drew near. The thundering sound of boots and the hooves of horses echoed across the field, kicking up a massive cloud of dust in their wake.

Without thinking, I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could, away from the approaching army. My feet were swift, but not swift enough as the cacophony drew closer and closer.

I turned around in time to see the head of the army bearing down on me; a monstrous figure clad in black armor, a tattered cape billowing in his wake. In his right hand, a bastard sword. The bloodied blade was raised above him, and before I could react he brought the weapon down.

I screamed, clutched at my neck, and closed my eyes. My body fell to the hard ground--but it wasn't the barren wastes of the Raiaeran countryside; rather, it was the ruins of an old city. Buildings were toppled, the streets riddled with rubble. The stench of death mixed with the acrid smoke of fires that burned in the ruins. Before me, half a mile or so in the distance, stood and unmistakable relic of the Corpse War--Xem'Zund's Obsidian Spire.

I felt compelled to draw closer to it. Step by shaky step, I made my way down the war-torn streets towards the ominous structure. I climbed over the remnants of fallen structures and the skeletons of the elves who used to live here as I made my approach.

Every fiber of my being screamed in unison to turn around, to not go inside that building. To wake up, abandon the weapons project, leave behind the horrible thing in the lowest archives of Ankhas and return to my home in Concordia. Every single cell of my body wanted nothing more but to run away, but I could only walk closer and closer to the Spire.

"Come closer, child."

I closed my eyes for a brief second, and opened them again. This time I was no longer in the ruined streets of a Raiaeran city, but inside the necromancer's lair. I stood, alone, in a circular chamber. Everything was pitch black, save for the numerous torches that illuminated the room, the light glinting off the sharpened edges of the furniture and the polished surfaces of the wall.

A table sat in the middle of the room, nothing on it save for a closed book. I felt my curiosity guide me closer to it. My footsteps echoed softly as I slowly moved towards the book. Shadows danced across the dark leather cover. Dark energy emanating from the tome kissed my senses, and I was momentarily repulsed before its allure pulled me back in.

I wondered what was in the book. I wondered if it contained knowledge that I sought.

--Wait, no. I wanted nothing to do with it. I am not their chosen. I am nobody's chosen.

My brair-knit hand hovered over the thick cover. A warmth ignited in my chest, slowly consuming my body, commanding me to open the book. My mind repeatedly shrieked at me not to, but my motions were not my own. A cold sweat formed on my forehead, and my temples pounded. I placed my hand on the book, and thumbed the side of the front cover. I slowly began to open the book.

Behind me, a heavy pair of blackened oak doors swung open, and heavy footsteps resonated throughout the chamber. I turned to see who the intruder was, and found myself face to face with a towering, thick figure clad entirely in black leather and dragon scale armor. A featureless mask crafted of polished silver covered their face. I could see the glowing amber reflection of my eyes in it.

Xem'zund.

We stood in silence for several seconds that stretched into an eternity before the Forgotten One reached up with a gloved hand and removed his mask. Unlike my previous dreams, this time he wore the face of the mercenary who was rumored to have slain him at the end of the Corpse War. His hair was gray and slicked back with a thick gel. His eyes were a fierce shade of crimson, and his gaze could've burned a hole right through you. His skin was tanned and marked with several scars.

The necromancer produced a cigarette from his sleeve and lit it with a snap of his fingers. He took a heavy drag on it, and casually exhaled a cloud of cancerous smoke in my face while looking me up and down.

"So, you're the one she picked out, eh?"

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I opened my mouth to object at being called chosen, but decided against it. There was no point. Not with him. "Yes," I said instead.

The necromancer grunted and walked past me towards the table where the mysterious book lay. I turned to face him. "But why are you here? I know this is a dream--I know this isn't real." I took a step towards him. "You're dead."

"Am I, now?" Xem'Zund half laughed, half snorted. "Look at Raiaera. My hordes still walk. My disease continues to spread and corrupt. Those pitiful elves continue to cower in fear at the mere mention of my name. I'm just as dead as she is." He gestured at me with the glowing cherry of his cigarette. The shards of Podë's soul that rested in my body warmed at their mention, reminding me of that fateful afternoon in the Red Forest.

The imposing figure stood on one side of the table and rested his gloved hands on its polished edges. The smoke dangled from the corner of his mouth and he continued to glare at me. "And now, I understand that you discovered a little something of mine that I seemed to have misplaced?"

The book in Ankhas.

"Yes," I said, tentatively.

Xem'Zund grunted, and shifted the cigarette to the other corner of his mouth. He inhaled deeply and blew out a thick cloud of smoke through his nose. "Interesting." He rose to his full height, roughly a head and a half above me. Flickering flames from the torches that lined the circular chamber danced off the scales of his armor. "And you haven't laid hands on it yet."

"I haven't had the time, really."

"A bullshit excuse, and you know it."

A litany of retorts built up in my throat, but got caught on the edge of my tongue. In a fashion, I suppose he was right. I have had all the time in the world to sneak out of the palace and into the library, to tear down the wall that hid away the book, and take what is mine--

I shook my head furiously. No, it wasn't mine. It isn't mine. I am not their chosen.

Xem'Zund arched a silver eyebrow. "What's the matter, kid?"

My head was swimming. I slowly backed away from the table. "No. I can't. I can't take the book."

The necromancer laughed. "Of course you can! It's sitting right there! Nobody's going to stop you!"

I shook my head furiously. "No, I can't--"

"Nobody can stop you," he roared, shaking the entire room with the sound of his voice. The lights along the wall flickered for a moment, seemingly cowering in fear of the Forgotten One's outburst. I stood there, still and silent. Not exactly afraid, but the hair on the back of my neck would be standing on end if I had any.

Xem'Zund took another drag off his cigarette and exhaled deeply. "You're pretty shitty at this whole 'destiny' thing, aren't you."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

"I don't believe in destiny," I said flatly. "Even if I did, it would be mine alone to shape--not yours, not hers."

The necromancer shook his head, finished his cigarette, and put it out on the plates on the back of his glove before setting the butt on the table. "Yeah, see; you're wrong there." Xem'Zund walked around the edge of the table, drawing closer and closer to me. I tried not to flinch at his presence, but found myself taking two steps back. "Podë's had eyes on you since you were born. Not exactly a 'stars have aligned perfectly' sort of thing, as she told me, but you were the best option available."

I opened my mouth to speak, but with lightning quick reflexes he reached up with a thick hand and latched onto my jaw and squeezed. A sharp pain ripped through my head, and my words quickly turned to muffled cries.

"Shut the fuck up and just listen for a goddamn minute, will you?" The Forgotten One's crimson gaze hardened. "Do you honestly think your life has just been a series of shitty events, one after the other? All the hardships you've endured? It was all arranged by Podë to prepare you for the plans she had."

Xem'Zund shoved me back. I stumbled to the floor, my eyes burning, my jaw aching. "Everything from the beginning," he continued, his voice low and threatening. "Your shitty family. The ambush that forced them to exile you. Falling in with the Crimson Hands. The plague in Eiskalt. Your abduction at the hands of the Briarheart cult. The last bits of your literal humanity burned away at the stake. It was all arranged by her--"

"--No--" I whispered, a twisting, fiery anger building in my gut.

"--Even her death and what you believe to be her betrayal of you in Lindqualmë was all by her design."

"Fuck you--"

"All in order to shape you into the heir she needed." The necromancer thought for a moment. "Nah; we needed, actually."

"I'm nobody's heir," I spat out, rising to my feet. My fists were clenched tightly, my knuckles ready to explode. The inferno in my chest was growing, slowly and steadily. I wanted nothing more than to cave the Forgotten One's skull in with a storm of vines.

Xem'Zund slid another cigarette out of his sleeve and lit it. "Keep telling yourself that, kid." He let the end of it rest on his lips, breathed in deeply, and exhaled a cloud of smoke that quickly dissipated into the air. The scent of tobacco filled my nostrils, nearly making me gag.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

He considered his words for a moment, rolling the smoke from one corner of his mouth to the other a couple times. "Alright, since you're being so fucking dense, let's approach this from a different angle--"

I had had enough of this. A primal scream crashed against the walls of the chamber as I exploded towards the necromancer. I felt the darkness of Podë fill me with her hate and spite, her red magic seeping into the vines of my arms as I reached for him. I threw my entire weight into Xem'Zund, catching him off-guard and toppling him to the polished stone floor.

The Forgotten One was quick enough to grab my wrists with his gloved hands as I tried to latch onto the scarred flesh of his face. He locked eyes with me, his lips twisted into a vicious smile. "Funny, innit? You're dead set on rejecting the gifts we have for you, but you're so quick to use them."

He planted a heavy boot on my chest, and with a swift motion, violently tossed me over head. I came to a crashing halt on the floor, and was up in an instant. I leaped at him as he rose to his feet, shifting around the many shards of Cillu glass I kept in my body and sprouted several sharp blades of sorts between my knuckles. I would have jammed several pieces of glass into his throat had he not caught me with a vicious right hook across my jaw. Bone cracked, vines burst, an electric pain wracked my skull. This time I stayed down.

"Are you done yet," Xem'Zund casually asked as he crouched down next to me on the floor. The only thing I could do was nod while my body quickly worked to re-knit the shattered bones of my mouth.

"Good. Now, got a question for you. Why are you in Alerar?"

I thought about it for several seconds while my jaw was made whole again. Once I could speak, I said the only thing that made sense to me. "Because I was contracted to make a bioweapon for the Aleraran government."

"Okay," Xem'zund nodded, "but why are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you take the job? Think about it for a second--" The necromancer reached over to where his cigarette lay on the floor, still lit, and picked it up. "You hate what you did in Eiskalt. You beat yourself up for it all the time. Right?"

I already knew the answer to that question, but I could never tell anyone. It made me feel disgusting. It made me feel like a monster.

"Right," I said instead.

The necromancer grunted, taking a drag on the smoke. "And yet, here you are. Now, answer me: Why?"

It was the stories. The rumors, the whispers on the wind, that Alerar was hiding something in the depths of Ankhas. Something forbidden; something that could never again see the light of day out of fear of what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands. I told him as much.

He subconsciously swiped at his graying hair, strands of which were knocked out of place during our scuffle. "And you knew just what to ask for when the subject of your payment came up, didn't you? You could have asked for anything--riches, protection from the world you're so scared of, the resources to continue your experiments in peace and comfort. But all you wanted was to be able to explore the library undisturbed. Because you knew what it was down there.

"Because it was calling for you."

I didn't respond. I didn't need to. Xem'Zund was right. I wanted that book more than anything in the world.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

He finished off the cigarette, exhaled a massive cloud of gray smoke into the air, and pitched the butt over his shoulder. It landed perfectly on the table in the center of the room, coming to a stop inches from the first one. "Now, let's think about the other side here for a second. Lenexa was pretty quick to try and talk you out of requesting access to every part of the library, right? And yet, King Edar'axa was incredibly quick to grant your request. Why do you think that is?"

I wracked my brain for several seconds, but couldn't think of a logical reason why. "So I could have every tool available for my job?" The words rung hollow in my skull. I was really grasping at straws.

"No," the necromancer said, his face darkening. "They know who you are. They know your past. They know what you unleashed in Eiskalt, they know that you were in Lindqualmë when news of Podë's death traveled across the world. They knew you were burned at the stake twice for your crimes, and that you still survived. They know who you are, where you came from, what you've done, and what you're capable of doing."

I slowly rose up from the floor, sitting on my knees while he spoke. "What are you getting at?"

"Lenexa turned awfully cold towards you after he relayed the news that your request was granted, didn't he? And your experiments were cut short the moment they realized you had something that could kill. Why do you think that is?"

The thought of my work having the brakes slapped onto it still angered me, mostly because I couldn't imagine why they would do that.

Xem'Zund leaned in, his stone-hewn gaze inches from mine. "Because they plan on betraying you."

I felt my face go pale. A giant weight formed in my stomach, a feeling of dread that slowly grew bigger and bigger with each passing moment.

"They know why you're here, what you want in the depths of that library. They knew there was only one way they could get you to cooperate, and they were willing to take that risk. King Edar'axa wanted you simply because you are a known quantity. They're well aware of the death grip you have on that frozen hunk of rock, and they want to use you for their own gain." The Forgotten One lowered himself onto the floor, sitting on his knees to be level with me. "They plan on using your weapons on the Raiaerans, and then they use you as a scapegoat to take the blame off them. The whole world knows who you are, so nobody will question it. They will offer you up to the High Bard Council as a gesture of good will, while they secretly gather their forces to attack."

He drew out a third smoke, and pointed it at me before lighting it. "They had the means to make weapons themselves. You saw their laboratories, their samples of diseases from around the world. Why do you think they picked you? Why else would they be so quick to give you everything you asked for?"

The more he spoke, the more he made sense. The Alerarans were setting me up only to stab me in the back. There was no other explanation. It wasn't possible.

They knew. They knew everything. They knew about the book, about how badly I wanted it the moment I asked for access to the archives. They knew they could use that fact to manipulate me into doing their work, and that it gave them a convenient out for when their backs were against the wall.

I wanted to scream. I wanted their blood. I wanted to watch them, broken and corrupted, begging for mercy that would never come.

Lenexa. Edar'axa.

All of them.

The amber light of my eyes flared as I slammed my fists against the stone floor of the Spire. A maelstrom of anger and hate swirled inside my head as I pictured how I would kill each of them.

Xem'Zund laid a hand on my shoulder, a friendly gesture from one monster to another. "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know for yourself, kid."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I immediately came to in my apartments within Valshath d’ Isto, my breath ragged, a cold sweat coating my entire body. I could hear the stillness of the night through the open window interrupted by the sound of industry that choked Ettermire. The lights of midnight activity cast a soft amber glow on everything in my room. I laid there for several minutes, not a single muscle moving, only one thought going through my mind:

I will have what is mine.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

In less than ten minutes, I was out the front gates of the palace and on the streets of Ettermire. The guards warned me that it wasn't exactly safe at night as they shut the giant iron grates behind me.

"Nothing I can't handle," I muttered as I set one foot in front of the other down the dirty city streets.

The one thing that always amazed me about the city was that it truly never slept. All around me, people ran on a twenty-four hour schedule. Most businesses may have closed at reasonable hours, but all of the craftsmen? All of the alchemists? The engineers? The tinkerers? The thinkers? The do-ers? They were still up, they were still doing work, they were still striving to make both coin and a difference in the world. Gunpowder weaponry was being put together in a factory two blocks over. Half a mile away, construction on another airship was underway. Somewhere behind me, another workshop still was putting together the finishing touches on a new generation of steam engines.

It was a world that, deep down, I desperately wanted to be a part of.

Maybe in a different life, I could be. But not this one.

I continued to walk towards Ankhas in silence, nothing but the faint grinding of machinery and hissing of steam in my ears and thick smog against my skin. Electric streetlights lit each cobblestone street as I made one turn after another, the path memorized. It didn't take long before I reached my destination.

The library never closed. There was no justifiable reason for it to: Scholars, guildsmen, government officials, foreigners, and commoners all gathered in its halls long after the sun set. By now, the staff was used to the sight of my mask and the amber glow of my eyes, so I was nodded in and allowed to explore the stacks.

Down I went, one staircase after another. Deeper and deeper, further and further into the grand library's depths.

I had only been there once before, but I remembered each twist and turn. The path was illuminated by the soft burning of lamps, seemingly arranged to lead me to where I had to be.

I will have what is mine. There was nobody in all of Alerar who could stop me.

Seconds stretched into minutes stretched into seemingly hours as I stood there, staring at the wall in the dead end. I didn't need to dig my vines into the floor to know that on the other side of the stone and mortar sat the book I followed the rumors to find. I could feel its dark energy seeping through the cracks. I could hear the whispers of arcane, forbidden knowledge from between its pages.

I will have what is mine.

Stretching out my hands, I closed my eyes. Four thick vines grew from my wrists and snaked through the air until they reached the wall. The faint sound of grinding rippled through the hallway as they rooted themselves into the masonwork, finding purchase in the porous surface of the mortar and splitting it apart.

I felt an evil energy welling up in my chest. She was calling me. She was begging for me to break through the wall. I fell into that dark place I hated so much, and allowed her magic to fill me once more. My briar-knit arms turned a deep crimson hue, which was almost black in the poor lighting of the archives. The Forgotten One Podë's laughter echoed in my skull as the cracking and popping of the stonework grew louder and more frequent. Moments later, the wall simultaneously exploded and imploded in a massive cloud of dust and debris. Where the wall once stood, a net of ruilserk vines extended from my own vines.

I immediately pulled myself away from her influence. The deadly ruilserk withdrew back into my hands. By now, my breath was ragged and barely audible over the final crumbling of cracked bricks rolling past me in the hallway. I took a deep breath. And another. And another still.

There it was.

It was all mine.

They had it, and now it is mine.

In the middle of the freshly opened room knelt a bloated, disfigured, hunched over corpse that reeked of the dead. I had to cover my nose with my sleeve to try and block out the horrid stench. A metal skullcap was fixed to the top of its flabby head, covering the creature's eyes and ears. Its mouth was sewn shut with a rusty iron cable. Its arm were stretched out, chained to the wall with thick steel links.

And strapped to its back with thick leather straps was the thing I sought.

Its cover was an amalgamation of leather taken from the skin taken from the living, each square inch a different flesh tone. Gray, gold, tan, bronze, black, even scale. It was several hundred pages thick, and was about as big as the abomination's torso. The edges of the book were frayed and falling apart after centuries--no, millennia of use. Between its covers, I would find the work of the most powerful necromancer to ever walk the earth.

It truly was one of Xem'Zund's hand-written tomes. And it was right here, ready for me to add its works to my own.

A wave of dread mixed with pure euphoria overcame me, threatening to drown me. Here it was; the thing I worked so hard for, the thing that I have traded the lives of countless Raiaerans for, the thing that those damn dark elves used to manipulate me, thinking that I would never get my hands on.

I took one step towards the book, and the creature came to sudden life. Even with its mouth shut, it began to scream and holler in joy. It pulled on its chains, desperately trying to free itself from its prison. It must have known that its new master had come to set it free, to take it away from its bonds, to absorb and use the knowledge that it protected.

"shE Is hErE," it cried out, its voice like nails inside my head. Even without full use of its mouth, I could hear it loud and clear. "hE sAId yOU wOuLd cOmE And frEE mE frOm thE dArk OnEs!"

I reached up with a briar-knit hand and caressed the poor thing's cheek. It turned its slovenly, flabby, melting flesh towards my outstretched grasp and rubbed its greasy face all over it, like a cat would mark its territory. It felt squishier than it had any right to. My lip curled involuntarily in disgust.

It giggled fervently the entire time. "shE Is hEre, mAstEr! shE Is hErE tO frEE yOUr fAIthfUl sErvAnt, yEs shE Is!"

I stood up and climbed through the web of iron that bound it to the floor while it continued to laugh and ramble. I wanted to see the book. I had to see the book. Slowly, I reached out for the book, and when I was mere inches away I suddenly hesitated--the creature began to shriek horribly, filling the room with demonic wails that echoed off my very soul.

"hE Is hErE! hE Is hErE!"

"Who's here," I shouted out over the cacophony.

"hE Is hErE!"

"Fucking who?" The screeching from the creature's sewn-up mouth was growing unbearable. "Is it Xem--"

A brilliant flash of light filled the corridor, and the unmistakable bang of gunfire echoed through the archives.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The crystallized shard of Podë's soul that I kept wrapped up in my chest screamed to life and weaved its spell just in the nick of time. A brilliant crimson flash illuminated the room, and the bullet collided full force against the protective shell of dark energy that enveloped me. I was protected from the shot, but the impact pushed me backwards against the far wall of the small chamber.

I snarled as the magical shell dissipated. Who the fuck was down here? How had they followed me without me knowing?

It didn't matter. I was going to end them.

Another round of gunfire exploded from the hallway. Another burst of red magic deflected the blow, but this time I was ready for it. I threw myself at the intruder, leaping off the back of the cowering creature chained to the wall. A bloodcurdling scream echoed off the walls of the chamber. I shifted around sharp shards of glass in my arms until four lengths grew from between my gnarled fingers like translucent claws.

Whoever it was in the hallway fired off a third shot, which missed wildly. The fourth one caught me square in the shoulder. My eyes burned from the flare of ignited gunpowder. Its unique, acrid odor filled my nostrils. A wave of agony ripped up and down my left arm and chest. I grit my teeth against the pain--I couldn't let it stop me. I couldn't let anything stop me.

I was mere feet away from the figure masked in darkness when I lashed out at him with my good arm. They were quick; but not quick enough. Sharpened edges of Cillu glass caught their cheek. The man--for it was clearly one now--grunted as he stepped aside. I heard the distinct click of him pulling back the hammer of his firearm for another go at me.

A flurry of vines grew from my arm, wrapping around the pistol as well as his hand and elbow. Without much effort, I was able to twist the gun around in his hand and position his arm so the hot iron of the muzzle was pressed against his temple.

"Point that thing where it'll do you some actual good," I hissed.

My left arm protested as I grabbed the stranger by the neck and dragged him into the light of the secret chamber where the tome was held. A sudden shock of familiarity struck my brain as the shadows danced off the dark elf's features.

"Huh," I remarked, my amber eyes flaring momentarily. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Get your dirty hands off me," growled the king's agent, Lenexa.

"I'm afraid not." A vine slithered into the trigger guard of his revolver, slowly pressing down on his finger until it was millimeters away from firing. "Let's skip the banter and get to the point, shall we? Mind telling me what you're doing down here?"

The agent spat something at me in Alerian. A curse, probably. I brought a balled fist up to his face and shattered his thin, bird-like nose. His knees buckled and his normally strong, authoritative voice cracked into a whimper as blood began oozing from his nostrils.

"Let's try this again, motherfucker." I flicked the barrel of his gun with the edge of a gnarl finger. "What are you doing down here?"

Fear and anger sparkled in the dark elf's eyes as he realized that no matter what he did, he was defeated. He took a deep, shaky breath, his tongue kissing drops of blood that collected on his lips. "I was sent to eliminate you."

"No shit," I said, exasperated. "I want to know why."

Lenexa took a deep breath to compose himself. He straightened up, putting on an aura of bravery in spite of his looming death. "Because you are of no further use to the empire, and our plans call for you to to be neutralized to ensure that they will go smoothly."

I tightened my grip on his throat. The agent's face tightened, a snarled gasp rasping from his lips. "Of course they do. But, there's more to it than that. There always is. And you're going to tell me."

He struggled against my vice-like grip for several seconds until I pressed the tip of his gun deeper into his skull. We locked eyes for what seemed like ages, a silent battle of wills taking place in the depths of the grand library. Eventually, he relented. With a heavy sigh, the agent started spilling his guts. "We didn't expect you to find the book so quickly."

Xem'Zund's hand-written tome, chained to the back of the slovenly, misshapen creature that whimpered and babbled to itself mere feet away.

"We had a suspicion that you were aware of its presence once you asked for unlimited access to Ankhas. I tried to argue that you should not be granted it, but his majesty was so set on employing you that he ignored my advice. I tried not to worry about it, convincing myself that you wouldn't find the book so soon. But you did, and now here we are."

A powerful darkness seeped into my words. "Nobody can keep a secret from me for too long."

Lenexa breathed deeply and raggedly, ignoring the blood that continued to ooze out of his broken nose. "Which is why we decided to pull the plug on your project the moment you developed something useful. We knew that as soon as we stopped you, you would make your move. We watched you for so long; we know how you operate, how you act on your desires. We knew that you would have gone after the book sooner or later."

My four glowing eyes narrowed. "Then why did you keep it here instead of steal it away yourself?"

He nodded towards it. "Look at that vile creature. Do you think it would be that easy moving it around at any time of day? Do you think that we had the capabilities to transport it anywhere without being noticed? The smell alone would have raised the attentions of everyone in Ettermire."

I nodded slightly. A fair point, I reckon.

"And now", the agent continued, "it appears that everyone has gotten what they wanted. We have your weapons, and you have the necromancer's book. But, I could not let you leave here with that accursed thing. You would be too much of a liability. Too much of a risk to let live. Our plan has to go perfectly to succeed, and your continued presence--book or no--is a giant question mark at the end of the paragraph."

"I have no reason to interfere with your king's plans to invade Raiaera. As you said, I got what I wanted, and so did he. If he leaves me alone, I will return the favor."

The elf smiled sadly. "That's not the plan I was referring to. This goes far deeper than you could possibly imagine." A tear formed in the corner of his darkened eye. "And I have failed them."

He squeezed the trigger. Gunfire echoed in my ears, and bright fire filled my eyes. A thick spray of blood and gray matter smeared against the wall behind him as his body fall to the cold floor of the archives.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Somewhere in Ettermire, where nobody would find them, where nothing would interrupt them, a small group of figures gathered around a round of drinks and piles of documents. Burning the midnight oil, they checked and double-checked items, made calculations, and compared notes. Together, these men and women would decide the fate of Alerar.

"He's late," a feminine voice grumbled.

"He'll arrive soon enough," another calmly stated.

A third voice, deep and gravely, spoke up. "What is taking him so long, anyway?"

"It's not like the task should have been too difficult for him," the female voice added.

A series of raps at the door, in a specific combination, caused all conversation in the chamber to cease. Recognizing the pattern, a thinner, older dark elf rose from his seat to open the door. He welcomed the hooded figure in with a wide gesture.

"It's about time!"

"Where have you been?"

"What news do you have?"

Without preamble, the figure approached the one empty chair around the giant table and sat down. He remained, head down, his gaze fixated on the corner of a sheet of paper that lay in front of him. "I have grave news, friends. She has the book."

A soft murmur grew around the table, but the man in the hood raised a hand to silence them. It was speckled with dry blood.

"She is also aware of the plan."

A mixture of panic and anger overtook everyone present. The figure stood.

"Well--that's a lie. She only knows parts of it." He pulled back is hood, revealing the distant gaze of Lenexa, a portion of the right side of his head missing. Where skin and hair gave way to bone and blood, thick strands of oily-blue mycelium grew, weaving a web of undeath across portions of his face.

"It's hard to piece together a wonderful scheme such as yours when half of the memories are smeared across the wall."

Panic and anger turned to fear as the elves beheld their brother. He was most certainly dead; the blood caked on his skin and clothing, the growing stench of decay, the listless and unfocused look in his cloudy eyes. Gasps and screams and gagging noises rose over the sudden confusion, threatening to drown out Lenexa as he began speaking.

"I have a message from the Briarheart," he said, his tone commanding, his words fierce. "You all have what you wanted from her, and she has what she wanted from Alerar. If you fucks are as smart as you believe yourselves to be, you will leave it at that. She doesn't care what you do with her plague devices or who you aim them at; and if you leave her alone, she will do nothing to stop you. But, if you even so much as think about implicating her in your efforts or lay any of the blame for your actions on her, you will not live long enough to regret it. She has your names, she knows where you meet, she knows where youwe live. She can and will destroy us anytime, anywhere. But whether or not we--well, you, really--all perish by her hand will be decided by our actions alone."

A dozen set of horrified eyes were glued to him. Mouths all agape, they were too scared to speak, let alone think.

"Message ends."