Black Magus

Buke's song came as an airy gasp that turned misty. Corporeal, almost. Like a stream of golden sand that fell through that veil of darkness, finding its way to my body. Even when I could not.

My death song never came. Instead, half of my senses returned from that veil of darkness. My mind remained suspended in that timeless realm, listening to squelching and sucking and the splattering of viscous fluid. I felt burning knives being traced along my chest and throat. I felt something meddling with my organs, taking things out and filling them with something... uncanny. I tasted… something, in that darkness. And then… nothing.

My song never echoed through that emptiness. I waited an eternity to hear its ring, so I knew, all I experienced was an unchanging eternity. There was no sense of self, no hopes or dreams, no fears; no worries. Only darkness. Until there was not.

It came like that stream of gilded sand; which itself appeared from nowhere, but this time was different. They were as large as rocks, not small like grains. Motes or globules of golden light drifted through that veil of darkness to find and merge with my disembodied self, returning my senses bit by bit.

First came a distant but noticeable cold beneath me. Something hard- the ground. But… blanketed by a layer of something thick and slimy. Then came the sound of creaking wood: a swinging door. And… howling wind, pushing it back and forth. The tang of metal, churned with the nose-curdling smell of rot forced my eyes open soon after. bringing the most profound realization upon me. I tasted death's feast. But when I stood and looked before me, I saw the object of my revenge, disemboweled and deceased in his tossed-up waiting room. Through the slit in the closed shutter, I saw the beige streets of Chor illuminated in the golden light of dawn. Yet, the door next to it swung back and forth by the howling winds of an open plain of snow and grass, far from any city. And so, I ran.

I ran through that dimensional door and found myself deep in the wilds where monstrous creatures dwelled and the rule of law was the center of a cruel joke. Where, exactly; I knew not, other than that I was further from Chor than I had ever been in my thirteen years of living, and I wanted to go further. So I ran on, stopping only when the sun rose. Though, not because I was exhausted. On the contrary, I ran throughout the day and had yet to tire. Nor was I hungry or thirsty. I wasn't shaky or wired from the shock. Despite everything, I felt fine. I felt… alive.

Only then did the realization of what I'd done hit me like… well, a charging bear-owl. Mental fatigue forced me to lean against a tree and find some solace in the setting sun cascading against the snow. And perhaps some memories.

I remembered the dream. It seemed irrelevant in the beginning. Artists and rogues alike gained inspiration for pieces or traps in their dreams all the time; because of the Gods, some say. And though the promise of a reward should have been something of caution, the dream only gave me a plan for what I aimed to do in the first place. And what I would receive in return, I believed, would make it all worth it in the end.

Regardless, I orchestrated my revenge. Buke was dead. But his body remained in his store room. Waiting for the city guard to round up the monstrous animals I set free so they could find him. Meanwhile, I somehow faked my death and went on the run to an unknown region with only a set of drums and the clothes on my back. Clothes that were somehow devoid of blood and goo.

I died. But… I somehow didn't. Or perhaps I did. I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

I remembered being sick before. I remembered before I woke up, feeling…empty. Now, I felt like I had the lungs of a storm giant. But, as I soon learned, I didn't have to breathe. I felt my heart beating powerfully, and worryingly slowly all the same despite me running all day. Now, I just felt… exhausted. Not fatigued or out of breath. But… heavy in the mind.

"You've made a pact and become a devil, Rickley. Or you're some type of special zombie." I concluded about an hour later. But it was so ridiculous I could only hang my head between my knees in denial. And in doing so, I noticed two things.

The slime, although it had somehow been removed, melted my hair from my scalp before then. It came out by the handful, making me despair for nearly an hour more. Until, at least, I realized I still had Buke's pendant. On further inspection, however, I realized the differences. Or rather, I began to obsess over them. No longer was it a slightly tarnished brass coin of some eccentric design. It was now gold with a blacker-than-black horned owl on the face, looking at me with eyes filled with countless stars. The most intricate etching surrounded the figure, giving the impression of a aura of light surrounding the creature.

How close, I wanted to get to it; such a sense of longing I felt towards it, I had to put it on, I thought. And from the moment it hung from my neck, I believed I would never take it off.

"You don't get away from me that easily, Rick."

My heart dropped before I shot up, spinning to snarl at the face I hated most in this universe, standing before a familiar beast. "How?" I sneered.

"As I tried to say before. 'Seems I'm not the one who decided you must be great. Unfortunately, your little hole in the wall gave you cancer in the lungs. You were already going to perish, Rickley. The Shadow of Death haunted you. Thus you have been pulled from the realm of death and made to straddle it. You have been reborn as an Undying Fiend, Rick. As have I, as... your Umbra Emperor."

With a flair across his frame with both hands, my eyes were pulled across the many changes to Buke's form. His skin was exceptionally pale. No more was it the deep tan he was known for. He was so pale around his cheeks and belly that I could see the veins within. Yet he retained a subtle glow that seemed both there and not. His hair was now midnight black but he retained the same rotund body and face he was known for. Most drastically of all were the fiendish horns, claws, and tail he now sported. Blacker-than-black with white tiger stripes running across the bases. Minus the tail, which was barbed like a scorpion.

"I am a... zombie, infused with machines, enchantments, wickedness, and unholy power." He explained before I could ask, then pointed a clawed finger towards me. "And you, Rick, are an Undying Fiend. Half-undead, for now. Half-devil, in time. You are charged with claiming the souls of the departed for your patron by attending the Bardic College of Requiem."

"So... I'm a warlock?" I asked calmly, though I still despised the fact that Buke was standing here, nodding in response to the obvious question. But then again, my next question wasn't as obvious. "To whom?"

Although I had an idea- more of a hope- I needed to hear it to even begin to believe it; yet Buke seemed to know that much in his undead form. "We will meet him soon enough." He offered an unsettling smile before gesturing to the beast beside him- the now much, much larger poison frog. Now fashioned with a sun-shaded saddle befit for royalty.

"Well, I suppose that's that. But…" I sighed, turning to Buke with an uncompromising glare. "You are not sitting on my saddle."

He huffed in contempt. "I don't intend to," was all he said before the frog opened up its maw to eject a fleshy tendril toward Buke. It latched onto him violently, almost consuming him whole before the tendril retracted into its mouth with lip-licking satisfaction.

"Oh, I can get used to that." I snickered, crawling my way to the saddle. And after getting settled, I began to truly relax for the first time in my life; unworried as we made our way south towards the Mountains of Rhar, sending deafening drums across the lands with each death-defying leap across the countryside.