Black Magus

"Your name is Wilson Koorb. It is the first day of the month of your rebirth."

The voice was sonorous and deep. Regal in such a way that I'd never heard before. It stirred me awake like a loving father would nudge their sleeping child. Gently. Bringing my mind to the red light peering through my eyelids and the warmth bathed across my skin long before my eyes ever fluttered open to show me a field of green peering beneath a white blanket, overlooked by a picturesque eye of silver peering over the lands.

I stared at it for what felt like hours trying to decide if it was the dawn or dusk, only to find the lengthening shadows and deep blues growing in the skies to imply the latter. By then I was fully awake. Stirring, I first realized I was sitting against a tree. Then I felt the holster slung around my body and right shoulder, keeping the Book of Madness safely housed in my armpit.

Sensing my eyes upon it, the book stirred awake to plague my senses with those haunting endless whispers- dissimilar to the voice I'd just heard. "It is the twenty-first night of Trescia. The thirty-seventh minute of the seventh hour of the evening saw our descent into Madness."

"I-" I attempted to stand, only for a searing pain in my head to force me back down. "What happened?"

"Did anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wished for?" The tome, or perhaps the scribe said. "Youthfulness and immortality? Always, there is a steep price for either. Regardless, you got what you wanted, Wilson Koorb. You were brought to the brink of death and made to straddle it. Now, we are our creator's first Undying Fiend."

"We?" I looked down as if I could read the emotions of this featureless book and pen. "Which one am I speaking to, anyway?"

"Don't you feel it?" It hissed, emitting a noxious wave of disappointment. "Us?"

After pushing the sickening feeling aside, I attempted to dig deeper into my memories and these items. The latter took less time to realize. It felt as if a semi-intelligent something was made whole by absorbing my vital essence into the pen, both by picking it up after its initial change and from it writing with my blood. In doing the latter, I gave the tome a mind and a tool it could use as a voice.

The tome took a while longer to discern but I eventually remembered… reading and learning things that racked up a debt that had to be repaid with my soul; an equal exchange for the eldritch, realms-ending knowledge implanted in my mind. Yet, I felt fine- beyond fine. I felt spry and energetic. I felt good! Greater than I've felt in decades. Like I was…

I scrambled to the waters at the thought, only to trip over my robes and proceed to curse in frustration upon finding the reflecting patches of ice as far from shore as possible. Manipulating water, scrounging for shiny coins or other bits of metal; nothing worked, other than clawing and pushing through the snow until I found some ice clear enough to reflect my wrinkle-free, hairless face, and salt and cayenne hair.

"We have regressed to the age of five and have been born anew!" Joyously declared the Book of Madness while I fell to my knees. "Now observe, your companion."

Following the pull beneath my armpit, I turned to see the same adamantine skeleton as before kneeling before me as if I were a king of sorts. Only, it now boasted a suit of heavy armor composed of the same materials; materials like mithral, imbued with dark magic and formed into cruel spikes, claws, and spines that left trails of amorphous darkness in their wakes; metals like adamantine, creating a shell of impenetrable armor adorned with deep-blue veins up the sleeves; markings made of gold, creating a helm depicting a horned owl of the starry night merged with a dragon of darkness. And yet, those were the smallest changes made to this eldritch avatar of death. There were horns like that of a ram curled up and out of his helm, coupled with a slim, barbed tail protruding through the gaps of his armor. Both juxtaposed against the Owl's wings hovering above the creature's shoulder blades, plumed in darkness and golden light.

"You wished to cheat death. The Owl did not grant you this wish, Wislon Koorb." Its sonorous words clarified before I could ask, lifting its head level to mine. "The Owl offered the undying servitude of Wilson Koorb to the Elven Devil. This is the pact to which you agreed. In this, the Elven Devil has removed Wilson Koorb from the cycle of death and regressed him to the age of five, where he will grow until maturity and live in perpetuity as his first Undying Fiend. In exchange, Wilson Koorb must join the Elven Devil's Troupe as the Eldritch Engineer, tasked with brewing potions, forging weapons, creating enchantments, and crafting whatever is necessary for the Nox devils and undead to thrive.

"I am your partner. Born anew alongside you as a Night Shade, ranked an Umbra Emperor of the Legio Noctis." The creature lowered its head, palming a gauntleted hand to its chest. "You may name me as you please."

"An Umbra Emperor?" I echoed to myself. Half-knowing from my implanted knowledge that a Night Shade was a template applied to any undead infused with the energies of the Shadow Realm, granting them immense speed and cunning. And yet somehow, I could tell this undead was extremely powerful in terms of strength and intelligence. Not to mention magic.

Or, perhaps it only seemed that way due to me being so small.

Instead of giving me any answers, the undead only stood to step off at a brisk pace, answering only after he distanced himself by several meters. "Therein lies the purpose behind our journey, Wilson. You will come to terms with your change along the way. At our destination, you will be educated greatly and rigorously trained in combat for one decade before you evolve. Then, your service begins."

"Okay then." I sighed in defeat, cringing at the sound of my voice. "Where are we going?"

"The Rharian Mountains."

Despair glued my feet into the snow. A lifetime had passed since I last stepped foot in the land of tree-kissing elves and I swore never again. But the creature's feet seemed fine enough to trudge along until it faded into the maze of trees, forcing me to scamper and plow through the snow to close the distance.

"It may take a decade to get there!" I groaned upon accomplishing the monumental task.

"That depends entirely on you, Wilson." He countered without delay, yet halted mid-step. "You have until the morrow to learn as much as you can about your new body. After that, you will learn to keep pace with the dead the hard way."

Saying nothing more, he held out an arm, prompting me to lead the way. I snickered inside at his ignorance of my lack of navigational skill. But then again, I doubted he'd allow me to stray whether it was intentional or not. Besides, it's not as if the mountains were hard to miss. And so, I ran at a pace comfortable to me. A slow, discombobulated, awkward pace, due to my robe hanging far past my feet and dangling far past my hands.

I was never the athletic type. Not to mention, I hadn't been a child in over sixty years. But he- Night, I supposed- remained quiet while we moved, giving me some much-needed solace to experiment and come to terms with my situation.

In short, I was in my 5-year-old body and simultaneously an Undying Fiend. I could at least count myself lucky, with two-thirds of that making sense. I was young, and though I'd not eaten since descending in that pit and had been running non-stop since leaving, I felt no fatigue or hunger, my mouth wasn't parched, and I still felt as if I'd risen from the best slumber of my life. But that couldn't have been the entire answer. I was undying. But how undying was I, was the question to be asked. Thus I began experimenting. Figuring out how long my breath could be held until something happened.

I nearly lasted an hour until a sudden drop forced the air from my lungs. And though my ankle was sprained, I hardly felt any pain. Truth be told, I hardly noticed at all until Night made notice of my slowing pace. With a swift spell, it popped back into place, and again, I felt no pain other than a distant sensation.

As he'd done every time before, Night took off the moment I recovered, and in my attempt to catch up, I made another discovery regarding my new body. My potion of Expeditious Haste, my Levitation Potion, and my Potion of Red Dragon's Breath remained in effect. Whether it was due to my pact or my research coming to fruition mattered not, for I innately knew the effects were permanent.

For the first time in my life, I felt free, sprinting and gliding across the plains of Vruria with a lot less despair to plague my mind whenever I focused on the distant mountains. With such newfound clarity, I noticed more changes in my body: The once-biting cold that now seemed as distant as the pain from earlier; the dulled emotions of fear and uncertainty were overcome by the eager expectation of adventure and other unthinkable things. Souls, for example.

By dawn, I began to surmise that I was, for all intents and purposes, undead. Yet, I experienced life, most emotions, dreams, and ambitions as if I were still alive. That, however, left one aspect unexplored- my fiendish nature; an aspect Night seemed devoted to showing me, given the way he demanded I follow him in seemingly random directions.

After nearly two hours of sprinting, he stopped with a demand I keep myself low in the grassy plains. After several moments of silence, he motioned for me to stand slowly, bringing my eyes to a lumbering shape in the distance. "That will hunt us when it notices us. Its tenacity will eventually slow our pace. Handle it."

I turned back to see Night gone. Then, I turned forward to see the lumbering creature on approach. And through either the creature's scent or the unthinkable anticipation of battle, Bom, the Book of Madness, rose from its slumber.

"Yes! Yeeehehessss!" Bom's malevolent song hissed as the former pen danced around my palm as if it were a wand. "I am hungry, Wilson. Let us eat. Let us make you complete!"

That answered my other question, I supposed. But therein remained the question of how to deal with this beast. It seemed an insurmountable task. Yet there was no fear to be found in my heart. On the contrary, a bold fire spurred my body into motion, throwing any sense of caution or wits aside.

I ejected from the grassy fields like a dire badger erupting from its burrow, shooting into the sky until I reached my apex and remained levitating a few meters above a lone bearbug wielding a menacing club. It threw its head up in a snarl, locking its yellow orbs onto mine with a predatory roar meant to instill fear in the frail prey before it.

"How insulting!" Bom hissed with such ferocity it pushed my arm forward, projecting a forceful blast of black and sickly green energy into the beast's chest, sending it tumbling head over heels like a boulder tossed down a hillside.

Thrown back a few meters, though it was, it came up low and swayed across the ground, sniffing loudly until its tusked snout raised in my direction; and with a feral roar, it tossed its javelin with lethal accuracy.

A primal urge welled within me at the sight and I clenched my hand in response, finding the pen in my sleeve-encased grip before I thrust it out with a tempestuous bellow. "VENTUS!"

The Word of Power sent a forceful gale ejecting from the pen-turned-wand, pushing me out of harm's way with a spin containing far more grace than I could have ever achieved before. I came around empty-handed and yielded to another ferocious hiss from Bom, thrusting another eldritch beam into the beast to send it crashing to its knees.

"Now!"

I needed not Bom to spur me forward. The sight of the creature, so weakened and frail, birthed an insatiable hunger that put my body into a state of hardly efficient autonomy. I tucked my body inward, pointing my head towards the bearbug while my fingers clasped around the wand, pointing towards my feet.

"VENTUS!"

Like a cauldron falling to its fate, I crashed into the beast head-first. If there were any cracks to befall my skull or spine, they were drowned out by the sickening reverberations of the bearbug's sternum and ribs shattering from the blow. They were muted by the ravenous screams of Bom and the maddened laughter born from my lungs; for now, the beast knew fear.

Simultaneously dazed beyond recognition and healthier than a fighting griffon, I fell onto the beast like an old woman in a murderous rage. I bit and spat at whatever neared my mouth. I ripped and tore whatever landed in my palm. I screamed with every bit of air I had. I used every bit of free space to kick. Then...

Then, either Bom or me or both opened the gates of Madness imprinted on my mind, pouring a wave of maddening darkness over the bearbug. Within moments, its feral screams were brought down to a soft whimper. Its violent outbreaks were lulled into a cold stillness. The light of its life was snuffed out, replacing it with a cold emptiness. But the maddening darkness was never meant to stay. Its purpose was to return. And when it did, I learned, it returned bearing fruit.

How sweet that nectar was! The pleasurable sense of satisfaction it gave couldn't have been matched by three generations of artificers realizing their magnum opus at the same hour. The way it fell into my pores, returning to me a boundless strength I knew not before, was intoxicating beyond belief. It was so rich and dense that it felt as if my body could hardly contain it, and it only grew in scale as the seconds passed.

From a campfire of darkness to a brazier of night to an umbral hearth and on to a great forest fire of death incarnate. The energy ballooned and blossomed until it grew to the limits of the largest dark star and shattered in a flesh-sundering explosion. But blown apart I was not. Burned and scarred I was not. Save a single place, but not from this battle. This battle only took my robe's left sleeve. Tattered and torn, it revealed the fate of my arm after Bom... swallowed it. It was emaciated and decayed from the shoulder down to the fingers. There was no skin, muscles, or tendons, just bone, coated in a dark gray metal with reflective hints of green; and the missing middle finger seemed to be the perfect fit for my pen-turned-wand.

No matter how much it demanded my attention, the arm wasn't something I could dwell on. All I could even think about was Night disappearing into the distance, and Bom, opening his innards to display a necrotic ritual.

We would need to hurry if we were to catch up.