Despite the titanic conflict that was taking place between two inhuman powers, it might have been any other day as far as the world was concerned. Barges passed through the canal, craftsmen plied their trade, and though people still loitered around the temple, of course, wives still served dinner, and men washed off the grime of the day. The only things that were amiss in the last few hours before sunset were the black water fountaining from the top of the temple and the people from the more rural reaches of the region streaming toward the heart of Blackwater.
The former was certainly obvious enough to draw the attention of everyone, but other than a boat captain and his crew that wasn’t from around here, no one seemed to pay it much more attention than a passing glance would warrant. The Lich was sure that the Gods looking down on the situation had noticed the strange goings on at the temple, even if they hadn’t yet noticed the families dropping whatever they were doing and abandoning their farms to come and worship it properly.
By morning, there would be thousands gathered there, crowding the square and the streets, and all illusions of normalcy would be gone in favor of the collection of power as every person under the sway of the darkness sought to obey a compulsion they couldn’t understand. They need not understand, though. Understanding was not required.
It already understood everything. All they needed to do was obey.
The people of the region had eaten its bread and drunk its waters for so long that they belonged to the darkness completely now. There would never be any escape for them, but the Lich would only seek to save those who truly loved it and the twilight world that was promised in their dreams. Everything and everyone else was expendable.
So far, the Lich was entirely pleased with the outcome of the unfolding events. Siddrim, as it predicted, had grown so used to winning all of his challenges that the foolhardy God could no longer even imagine a situation that might be too much for it, and though it did not know it yet, it had already paid the price for that.
After the sunset and the moon started to rise, the pumps that powered the dark fountains finally stopped, and the doors were reopened to allow as many of the waiting people in as possible. Brother Verdenin was there to lead them in strange songs and give speeches about the true ruler of the world, but the altar was still missing.
Well, not missing. It was still submerged forty feet beneath the ground, and the well that it created was still filled with shadows, but no one that crowded into the large temple paid any more attention to that than they did to the scorched and melted art that had been pristine earlier that day.
Just like the worshipers of the Oroza, these people could only see what the Lich wanted them to see, and what it wanted them to see was glorious. In that distant future, all were one, and there was no war. Of course, the part where all the peoples of the world were owned by the Lich, and the peace was the peace of the grave were left out of these visions. It would need loyal subjects for a long time. They would be the last ones left breathing on this world.
They would be the last ones still breathing until all of his enemies had been snuffed out, and so the Lich’s servant, Brother Verdenin, called them forward one at a time throughout the night and took them below so that they could be protected from the carnage that was going to occur next. The disloyal ones, though… the ones that harbored doubts or concerns… they were left there to sing its praises until they were hoarse. The Lich would need all the strength it could muster for what was going to happen next.
The same might have been true for Todd and the spark of the divine that he still harbored deep within his breast, but he was past that point now. In the hours spent laying there soaking in the toxic nightmares that the Lich had hoarded for decades, he had grown quite mad, and though his screams could not be heard over the singing, they never stopped anymore.
The singing and the screams weren’t quite enough to cover up the deep and rumbling sound of the pumps when they started back up. This time, they were not powering the delicate fountains that decorated the Lich’s temple. This time, they were filling the great circle with the final catalyst it needed to activate: the polluted and bloodstained river water of its river.
The great circle wasn’t a thing to bind its enemy; that was the small well at the center of the temple. It was an amplifier. It was the only place in the world where the true name of the Lich had been recorded. It had even ordered it stricken from Kelvun’s pages lest someone one day discover such a powerful secret.
The giant, nearly circular tunnel ran the full length of its oldest territory and would ensure that, unlike the time it fought the Oroza, its power would be unlimited as it tore the Lord of Light to shreds.
The Lich always felt deeply connected to the land because it was the land. It was the water, the soil, and the insects that lived in both. It was the thick, boggy earth and all of the food that came from it to feed the people of the region. This only intensified as the precisely cut channels filled with the foul brew and activated the runes that were carved there one at a time.
It would take hours and certainly be visible to any gods or wizards that might investigate, but then it had already tipped its hand by activating the temple and seizing Siddrim’s avatar. All forces would now be arrayed against it now. It would be ready, though. Even if it had not spent decades murdering boat crews, adventurers, and stealing the soul of every person foolish enough to die in its domain, it still had the endless carnage of the goblins and the looted remains of the dwarven crypt to keep it well fed for this moment.
The gods thought that challenging them was impossible. It would correct that error.
All through the night, the Lich made preparations as he moved his pieces into position across the board. A whole army of the dead marched out of the main entrance and into the muddy waters of the Oroza by the thousands. When they reached the bottom of the river, most turned left and began to march north toward Bridigem and the other port cities of Dutton County, while a much smaller number marched south toward Tagel.
Nothing would stop those cities from burning, and even though all of these battles would be fought in a day or even a week, but the blood and fear they caused would be crucial to replenishing the Lich’s stores after sunrise. No matter how things played out, it expected to use years' worth of resources that it had painstakingly stored for just such an occasion.
The undead would take time to move into position, but of course, the goblins had already started their bloodthirsty rampage, even now. They’d been gathering for days in the dark woods along the coast, and though they weren’t as mighty as they’d been last time without fire magic-wielding shamans, it was certain no mere fishing village could stand up to the screaming hordes of death and destruction that had been unleashed at sunset.
This time, the Lich had not condensed them into a single powerful tribe but instead left them as squabbling siblings competing for its affection and favor. The result was that they were as bloodthirsty as ever, and almost as many goblins died from infighting as from the enemies they battled.
The Lich did not mind this, though. Death was death, and unlike many of its crafted servants, it did not require that the goblins be effective; it only required that they be eager.
Effective was a requirement of its four horsemen, of course, which would finally be fielded together, it thought hungrily. It had no way of knowing how well or poorly they would work together, of course, since they were all still willful in their own way, but their target would demand more strength than any one of them could hope to provide. The earth titan was still reluctant to fight no matter how much the darkness tried to enflame its soul, and even now, all these years later, the river dragon continued to resist her bonds.
In that sense, only Krulm’venor could be called a true success. He had struggled until he’d shattered himself, and now he was a tribe of bloodthirsty monsters more than he was a fire godling. The others could learn from his example, though, or they could be replaced when the Lich found more capable servants. It didn’t care either way.
Normally, the Lich was content to let everything play out in its own time, but tonight, or all nights, it grew agitated and restless as it watched the stars wheel slowly across the sky. Surely, the church had already suspected something, and even now, an army or templars was moving against it, or perhaps a small, talented bad of adventurers would try to employ some hidden magical gambit against it.
Even at its most paranoid, the Lich found nothing though. There were no unusual deaths among the Red Hills, and no strangers mixed in with all of its loyal subjects on the roads to Blackwater. Though Siddrim had almost certainly relayed the day's strange events to the elders of the church and his chosen champions, they would certainly be too late to intervene.
Without the assistance of its magical ferryman, it took days to travel from one city to another, even with spare horses, and what was going to happen next would be decided sometime between sunrise and sunset tomorrow.
Somehow, it had managed to pull off its grand design in secret, and the surprise was nearly complete. Now, all the Lich needed to do was wait, but that became more challenging with every hour that passed as it looked for more and more things it needed to do to make itself as ready as possible.
It had never felt this way in the leadup to its revenge on Kelvun. Not even when the night dawned, and the storm broke. It had been calm and amused until the very end.
It was that understanding that finally made the Lich understand what it was feeling. Fear. Anxiety. Dread. All the emotions it whipped up so frequently in others but never experienced itself.
The realization was unwelcome. Fear was not something the Lich should have experienced. It was an emotion it had not felt in a long time. Perhaps not since those Lizardmen had begun to worship it all those years ago, but certainly not sense its battle with the Ozora.
It should not have to fear the light, but it still did, somewhere, somehow. Its most recent dual with Siddrim’s avatar had only increased that fear. It might have shrugged off those attacks, but there had been no denying how painful they had been, and it was certain that the worst was yet to come in that regard.
Yesterday, it had fought a star, and tomorrow, it would fight the sun. The Lich wasn’t worried, though. The night devoured the sun every day. Today, it would just happen earlier.
Despite the titanic conflict that was taking place between two inhuman powers, it might have been any other day as far as the world was concerned. Barges passed through the canal, craftsmen plied their trade, and though people still loitered around the temple, of course, wives still served dinner, and men washed off the grime of the day. The only things that were amiss in the last few hours before sunset were the black water fountaining from the top of the temple and the people from the more rural reaches of the region streaming toward the heart of Blackwater.
The former was certainly obvious enough to draw the attention of everyone, but other than a boat captain and his crew that wasn’t from around here, no one seemed to pay it much more attention than a passing glance would warrant. The Lich was sure that the Gods looking down on the situation had noticed the strange goings on at the temple, even if they hadn’t yet noticed the families dropping whatever they were doing and abandoning their farms to come and worship it properly.
By morning, there would be thousands gathered there, crowding the square and the streets, and all illusions of normalcy would be gone in favor of the collection of power as every person under the sway of the darkness sought to obey a compulsion they couldn’t understand. They need not understand, though. Understanding was not required.
It already understood everything. All they needed to do was obey.
The people of the region had eaten its bread and drunk its waters for so long that they belonged to the darkness completely now. There would never be any escape for them, but the Lich would only seek to save those who truly loved it and the twilight world that was promised in their dreams. Everything and everyone else was expendable.
So far, the Lich was entirely pleased with the outcome of the unfolding events. Siddrim, as it predicted, had grown so used to winning all of his challenges that the foolhardy God could no longer even imagine a situation that might be too much for it, and though it did not know it yet, it had already paid the price for that.
After the sunset and the moon started to rise, the pumps that powered the dark fountains finally stopped, and the doors were reopened to allow as many of the waiting people in as possible. Brother Verdenin was there to lead them in strange songs and give speeches about the true ruler of the world, but the altar was still missing.
Well, not missing. It was still submerged forty feet beneath the ground, and the well that it created was still filled with shadows, but no one that crowded into the large temple paid any more attention to that than they did to the scorched and melted art that had been pristine earlier that day.
Just like the worshipers of the Oroza, these people could only see what the Lich wanted them to see, and what it wanted them to see was glorious. In that distant future, all were one, and there was no war. Of course, the part where all the peoples of the world were owned by the Lich, and the peace was the peace of the grave were left out of these visions. It would need loyal subjects for a long time. They would be the last ones left breathing on this world.
They would be the last ones still breathing until all of his enemies had been snuffed out, and so the Lich’s servant, Brother Verdenin, called them forward one at a time throughout the night and took them below so that they could be protected from the carnage that was going to occur next. The disloyal ones, though… the ones that harbored doubts or concerns… they were left there to sing its praises until they were hoarse. The Lich would need all the strength it could muster for what was going to happen next.
The same might have been true for Todd and the spark of the divine that he still harbored deep within his breast, but he was past that point now. In the hours spent laying there soaking in the toxic nightmares that the Lich had hoarded for decades, he had grown quite mad, and though his screams could not be heard over the singing, they never stopped anymore.
The singing and the screams weren’t quite enough to cover up the deep and rumbling sound of the pumps when they started back up. This time, they were not powering the delicate fountains that decorated the Lich’s temple. This time, they were filling the great circle with the final catalyst it needed to activate: the polluted and bloodstained river water of its river.
The great circle wasn’t a thing to bind its enemy; that was the small well at the center of the temple. It was an amplifier. It was the only place in the world where the true name of the Lich had been recorded. It had even ordered it stricken from Kelvun’s pages lest someone one day discover such a powerful secret.
The giant, nearly circular tunnel ran the full length of its oldest territory and would ensure that, unlike the time it fought the Oroza, its power would be unlimited as it tore the Lord of Light to shreds.
The Lich always felt deeply connected to the land because it was the land. It was the water, the soil, and the insects that lived in both. It was the thick, boggy earth and all of the food that came from it to feed the people of the region. This only intensified as the precisely cut channels filled with the foul brew and activated the runes that were carved there one at a time.
It would take hours and certainly be visible to any gods or wizards that might investigate, but then it had already tipped its hand by activating the temple and seizing Siddrim’s avatar. All forces would now be arrayed against it now. It would be ready, though. Even if it had not spent decades murdering boat crews, adventurers, and stealing the soul of every person foolish enough to die in its domain, it still had the endless carnage of the goblins and the looted remains of the dwarven crypt to keep it well fed for this moment.
The gods thought that challenging them was impossible. It would correct that error.
All through the night, the Lich made preparations as he moved his pieces into position across the board. A whole army of the dead marched out of the main entrance and into the muddy waters of the Oroza by the thousands. When they reached the bottom of the river, most turned left and began to march north toward Bridigem and the other port cities of Dutton County, while a much smaller number marched south toward Tagel.
Nothing would stop those cities from burning, and even though all of these battles would be fought in a day or even a week, but the blood and fear they caused would be crucial to replenishing the Lich’s stores after sunrise. No matter how things played out, it expected to use years' worth of resources that it had painstakingly stored for just such an occasion.
The undead would take time to move into position, but of course, the goblins had already started their bloodthirsty rampage, even now. They’d been gathering for days in the dark woods along the coast, and though they weren’t as mighty as they’d been last time without fire magic-wielding shamans, it was certain no mere fishing village could stand up to the screaming hordes of death and destruction that had been unleashed at sunset.
This time, the Lich had not condensed them into a single powerful tribe but instead left them as squabbling siblings competing for its affection and favor. The result was that they were as bloodthirsty as ever, and almost as many goblins died from infighting as from the enemies they battled.
The Lich did not mind this, though. Death was death, and unlike many of its crafted servants, it did not require that the goblins be effective; it only required that they be eager.
Effective was a requirement of its four horsemen, of course, which would finally be fielded together, it thought hungrily. It had no way of knowing how well or poorly they would work together, of course, since they were all still willful in their own way, but their target would demand more strength than any one of them could hope to provide. The earth titan was still reluctant to fight no matter how much the darkness tried to enflame its soul, and even now, all these years later, the river dragon continued to resist her bonds.
In that sense, only Krulm’venor could be called a true success. He had struggled until he’d shattered himself, and now he was a tribe of bloodthirsty monsters more than he was a fire godling. The others could learn from his example, though, or they could be replaced when the Lich found more capable servants. It didn’t care either way.
Normally, the Lich was content to let everything play out in its own time, but tonight, or all nights, it grew agitated and restless as it watched the stars wheel slowly across the sky. Surely, the church had already suspected something, and even now, an army or templars was moving against it, or perhaps a small, talented bad of adventurers would try to employ some hidden magical gambit against it.
Even at its most paranoid, the Lich found nothing though. There were no unusual deaths among the Red Hills, and no strangers mixed in with all of its loyal subjects on the roads to Blackwater. Though Siddrim had almost certainly relayed the day's strange events to the elders of the church and his chosen champions, they would certainly be too late to intervene.
Without the assistance of its magical ferryman, it took days to travel from one city to another, even with spare horses, and what was going to happen next would be decided sometime between sunrise and sunset tomorrow.
Somehow, it had managed to pull off its grand design in secret, and the surprise was nearly complete. Now, all the Lich needed to do was wait, but that became more challenging with every hour that passed as it looked for more and more things it needed to do to make itself as ready as possible.
It had never felt this way in the leadup to its revenge on Kelvun. Not even when the night dawned, and the storm broke. It had been calm and amused until the very end.
It was that understanding that finally made the Lich understand what it was feeling. Fear. Anxiety. Dread. All the emotions it whipped up so frequently in others but never experienced itself.
The realization was unwelcome. Fear was not something the Lich should have experienced. It was an emotion it had not felt in a long time. Perhaps not since those Lizardmen had begun to worship it all those years ago, but certainly not sense its battle with the Ozora.
It should not have to fear the light, but it still did, somewhere, somehow. Its most recent dual with Siddrim’s avatar had only increased that fear. It might have shrugged off those attacks, but there had been no denying how painful they had been, and it was certain that the worst was yet to come in that regard.
Yesterday, it had fought a star, and tomorrow, it would fight the sun. The Lich wasn’t worried, though. The night devoured the sun every day. Today, it would just happen earlier.
