Culmination

Three weeks later-

From dying three weeks ago at the hands of a fire mage called Xzeralaki in a forest to being revived and experimented on by an old necromancer mage, whatever Garrick did in his past life must have been exceedingly horrific to be dealt this hand in his current one. Jarathus speaks to Garrick through the cell door in an empathetic tone, almost as if the horrific torture he inflicted just hours earlier is a distant memory that should be forgotten.

Jarathus eagerly converses with Garrick whilst sitting in his usual wooden chair.

"Three weeks of preparation and so close to the finish line. I will explain to you, in the simplest way I can, just what 'Runework' is."

Garrick sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees slumped over. His dark brown hair covering his eyes, beard patchy. Looking down at his arms; although not withered or unnourished, runic symbols coat them and the rest of his body. He Looks back toward the old man with a stare.

"You'll tell me regardless of my answer, so go ahead." Garrick defeatedly says.

Jarathus sits up and coughs, preparing himself.

"Runework is a challenging skill to master, but the theory is if the runes I have carved on your body can adequately channel and enhance magical potency, then I will have broken new ground!" Enthusiastically spoken.

Three weeks later, Garrick still gets unnerved seeing Jarathus so giddy like a child when chatting about torture and his 'theories'.

"Imagine not requiring an arcane focus to channel your magic or having to recite a spell or wave your hands in a particular sequence; instead, your body will become the arcane focus, and your mind will cast the spell. It eliminates the danger of being parted from your focus and losing much of your magical power. Also, it eliminates the delay from casting using speaking or hand signals; you instead think, and it happens." Jarathus looks toward Garrick, waiting for his reply of agreement on the wonders of Runework.

"You're batshit insane, old man." Garrick replies promptly.

"You'll come around, I can tell, and please, call me Jarathus, 'old man' makes me seem senile." Jarathus exclaims.

"I can say you've got a few screws loose. Senile is just a stone's throw away." Garrick adds.

"You'll need to speak up a little; I don't hear so well any more!!" Jarathus, attempting to crack a joke.

Garrick lets out a deep sigh, almost as if the mental torture of having to converse with this old man is worse than the physical torture of being used as a human book daily.

Jarathus gets the hint quickly enough; he slowly stands up, moving his straggly white hair from his face and meekly walks to the door before stopping momentarily.

"Gods exist; what we do with that knowledge determines how far we can progress in our lives." I am a master in Necromancy and Restoration, but they pale in contrast to Runework. Finding information on Odexus the Runelord is virtually impossible, as the disciples who live in the world are highly secretive about their work. Garrick, you are the culmination of my life's labour; everything has led up to you."

Jarathus flicks his wrists as the torches illuminating the room fade and burn out.

"I'll let you rest for tonight, given that tomorrow is crucial."

Jarathus shuts the door behind him, and silence fills the room...for a moment.

Drip...drip...drip...drip….

Garrick sighs deeply before lying on the bed and falling asleep.

- The following morning -

BANG!

The cell room door slams open, and Jarathus energetically enters with a grin spanning his face.

Garrick springs upright in response to the sounds before sagging back down tiredly. He'd believe Jarathus was taking sadistic pleasure in thinking about what was about to happen if he hadn't spent three weeks having to speak to this man every day. Still, Garrick knows enough about this old man to know he takes no pleasure in the torment, only the progress. The grin was directed towards the latter.

"The moment has come, Garrick. The result of our efforts. Our fates will be determined today, and I will bind your soul to a demon." Jarathus is ecstatic yet cautious.

"Fuck sake..." Is all Garrick can muster; he thought Runework was the worst of it; flesh flayed, opened up and runes etched inside and out before the skin healed back shut was torture, but now he drags the horrors of hell directly into his being. He could grit his teeth and bare it all in the hopes of escaping, but that never arose, and now he will die a horrible death in this miserable place.

"Please stand up. Let's get this day started." Jarathus inquires.

Garrick slowly rises while Jarathus readies a book dangling from his hip. He softly murmurs a spell, one he had already used on Garrick. He mutters some more before concluding, "Blindness, Deafness."

Quick as a flash, Garrick's vision and hearing are both utterly void. The only thing he can feel against his feet is the frigid, chilling floor.

Underfoot, vibrations can be felt as the cell door opens and grinds against the stone floor.

Jarathus pulls on the chain around Garrick's ankle, signalling him to take a step forward.

They start moving, Garrick moving reasonably quickly for someone who can't see his path ahead—three weeks of torment had taught him the route to the experimentation room and back to his cell. After a short walk, a flash of warmth hits his face as he registers his arrival to the room.

"You'll find a way out." Garrick tells himself.

He shuffles to the centre of the room, his arm extending as he holds the table. The rough, splintered wood pierces his hand, but it doesn't disturb Garrick. A cold liquid, his blood resulting from the previous day's work, touches his fingertips. Garrick grimly pulls his body onto the table and lays down, facing the ceiling. The sole bright spot in this circumstance is the gentle hug of warmth the neighbouring fire provides.

He feels movement on his wrists and ankles as Jarathus restrains them to the table. Once completed, there is a brief gap until Garrick's vision and hearing return to normal. The crackling fire fills the room briefly before Jarathus joyfully chimes up.

"Today will be arduous for us both, but I trust my work and your resilience."

Jarathus gathers his tools from a nearby table as he prepares them. What seems like seconds to Jarathus is hours to Garrick. The clanging of metal instruments being readied and Jarathus whispering to himself as he reads from his book. As he prepares the final steps, he speaks with Garrick.

"I became adept with magic by age ten, unheard of for humans, but it was not enough for the elven mages from whom I learned." They saw me as a person with fleeting years. "For someone who lives to be a hundred years old, living to the age of eighty leaves no room for true magical progress." With a harsh tone in his voice, Jarathus says.

He pauses in his preparation and speaks to Garrick.

"I decided that if I wanted to become the greatest mage that ever existed, I needed to prolong my own life by any means necessary." That answer was Necromancy, along with some essential Restoration magic. I am currently two hundred and fifty-three years old, which I keep count of because this should not be feasible for humans, even with magical assistance. Only divine intervention from a god and being their 'chosen' can halt ageing.

Garrick is interested in the story, but he doesn't show it.

Jarathus takes a sip of water before raising it towards Garrick, inviting him to drink, but Garrick shakes his head no in response.

"Anyhow, I digress. When the elf mages at the academy found out I was practising Necromancy, they were enraged. 'How dare he use magic to match our elven years,' they grumbled. They are so arrogant, so high and mighty, thinking of themselves as superior because they have been practising magic longer than the rest of us. They are only better at magic than the rest of us because they have more time and shun anyone who acknowledges it."

Jarathus' tone of voice becomes more irritated as he recalls the past. Garrick turns his head towards Jarathus, cautiously listening.

"When I was thirty, they banished me from the Magic Academy in the Sovereignty's capital, Epoch Bastion." They seized everything from me, even the notes I wrote detailing my work; all I was left with was the clothes on my back. I was lost, but their actions taught me something important...they feared what I was doing."

Jarathus clenches his hands and speaks menacingly.

"They were terrified at the prospect of someone contesting their level of power." It spurred me to delve deeper into the arcane than ever before."

Jarathus takes another sip to quench his thirst.

"It took me roughly my entire natural lifespan, but I was skilled enough to master Necromancy and Restoration truly." It was an investment required if substantial progress was to be accomplished."

For the first time, Garrick speaks up.

"Necromancy is illegal. That's why you were banished."

Jarathus turns to confront Garrick.

"But why is it illegal?" Bringing people back to life isn't necessarily evil, but I know the explanation. When we utilise restoration magic, our bodies can only recover so much before scarring sets in, and we die; it is a delaying strategy, but we still expire near the end of our regular lifespan. However, when utilised with Necromancy, we may considerably prolong the dying process, giving someone with average knowledge an extra twenty years or more of life. The strong and wealthy haphazardly utilise it for their gain without consequences."

Jarathus sighs and gathers his thoughts.

"Anyway, when I was roughly eighty years old, I delved into Runework, which uses powerful runes to amplify and increase the flow of magic, even allowing those with no magical capacity to use magic." It was all based on writings and rumours; I'd never seen it with my own eyes before, but it piqued my curiosity. The religion of the Runes and their god, Odexus the Runelord, from whom

these runes originate, interested me nought. Still, the power I could obtain from the god's disciples engrossed me greatly. I killed everyone I could find and used their research to improve my own wherever possible."

Jarathus summons his book in front of him.

"It is said that Odexus created the runes, and each one is imbued with a piece of his soul; I gained some information, but not much; as I previously stated, the disciples are very secretive in their work." This book contains all of their research as well as all of mine. Almost two hundred years of research has led to this point, and you are allowed to be a part of it."

Jarathus approaches Garrick, the fragile, gaunt man with imposing and intimidating body language.

"My life is ending; necromancy and restoration can only account for so much in life extension." So we both will either live or die after today." Jarathus states this with a seriousness that Garrick hadn't observed previously.

Garrick didn't recognise it at first since he had become so caught up in the story, but his heart was racing. He was unaware, but his body sensed that something terrible would occur.

End Chapter