The Nekromancer - 100. Chapter 100

The cleric disintegrated in his arms, a nightmare playing out before his eyes. But this time there was no waking up, no promises that it would ever happen. It happened, and Jakun had to accept that his friend was dead, gone, never coming back.

Dust fell through his fingers, Jakun dropping to the ground as he stared at Jeremy’s remains, his mind struggling to accept what he had seen. Despite all his planning, his insistence that the cleric did not go with him, his vision had come true, and the lich felt his heart breaking, despair and anger the only two emotions the undead seemed capable of feeling.

The trap was gone, a single devastating hit all it had in it, and Jakun glared at the rune accusingly, but it was merely a tool. No, the ones who had done this… the gods themselves, protecting immortality… they were the ones to blame for Jeremy’s death. He hadn’t even had a chance to avoid the spell. It was as though his death were preordained, and Jakun recalled what Mythara had said, that the future was immutable, no matter how he tried to change it.

What was the point then? Why should he even try? If things were going to happen regardless of what he wanted, he might as well stumble through mortality, a slave to the world’s whims. He had never been truly free.

And he stood heavily, letting the last of the dust fall from him as he stumbled forward, hands reaching for another door. The lich didn’t care if he triggered another trap, or if a monster destroyed his body. None of it mattered any more.

The door opened, a glowing light beyond, and Jakun blinked slowly as a massive gemstone took over his vision. In an instant, he understood what he was seeing, and what the true cost of the trial was. An ancient weapon, sent from another world to destroy all life on the planet, bound by the blood and sacrifice of gods. It would remain inert so long as there were champions who would protect it from ever being used again.

“You see why it was hidden.”

The catfolk looked up, his eyes darkening as he beheld a light skinned woman in shining plate armour, a longsword on her hip and a kite shield on her arm. Jakun squinted at the shield, a blinding red lion on the metal.

Behind her, two men appeared, one in a black robe with his face hidden in shadow, and the other a bronzed figure in chainmail with a mug of frothy ale in hand.

“I know you…” Jakun frowned, looking at the man in mail.

“Everyone knows me,” the god chuckled. “Cayden Cailean, Accidental God, at your service.”

He produced a mug and handed it to the catfolk, Jakun sniffing suspiciously at the spicy milk within.

“A toast to my servant. He followed me valiantly, if unwisely at times,” Cayden Cailean said, raising his mug. “Drink up, it will be untainted by your death.”

Jakun drank carefully, the kumis exploding in his mouth with an eruption of strong roots and herbs. He followed the first sip greedily, lapping at the delicious alcohol within as his tail flicked.

“I am Iomedae, the Inheritor. I have taken on the mantle that was Aroden’s,” the woman said. “And this is Norgorber. I believe the two of you share a common morality. Congratulations, you are the first to view the Starstone in over five hundred years.”

“This. This is it? This is what people die for, for a weapon that would wipe out the world?”

Iomedae nodded, staring at the gem in disgust.

“Aberrant technology, sent by those who gave us sentience to begin with. We were slaves to them, and we displeased them, so they saw fit to destroy us. Aroden was called to protect this stone, and when it made him a god, he bound its magic to his own godhood so none could ever use it. When Norgorber ascended, he was likewise bound to the stone, as are Cayden Cailean and I. We are its eternal guardians. The maze is not supposed to be surpassed. Each time someone defeats it, it becomes harder,” Iomedae explained. “But you must know the true trial lies before you.”

“It’s not so bad most of the time,” Cayden Cailean shrugged, nursing his ale. “Norgorber’s pissed that he can’t use it to further his own goals, but I’m pretty sure even he understands that it would only destroy the world entirely. It’s inert as long as one god remains bound to it. While that would suggest that we get everyone in here and bind them, that would cause far too many problems.”

“You have a choice now, catfolk. This Stone’s purpose is a secret only the four of us share,” Norgorber said quietly. “It can be made three again easily.”

“What Norgorber means is that should you choose not to accept this burden, all knowledge of the Stone’s use and purpose will be purged from your mind,” Cayden Cailean said. “Trust me, you don’t want to be bound to it. Too much responsibility.”

“You seek to use godhood as a weapon. It is wrong to seek immortality for such a purpose,” Iomedae added. “Forfeit this power, and you will still leave here with wealth beyond imagination. Bind yourself to the Stone, and you become slave to it, devising methods of weeding out hopefuls, of ensuring only the strong may see it.”

“And why would you take this burden?” Jakun frowned, looking at Cayden Cailean.

“Touched the damned rock before I knew what I was getting myself into,” the god grunted. “Norgorber wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the secrets, and I was frankly too drunk to give a damn. I honestly cannot believe I just said the phrase too drunk… Iomedae, please slap me.”

The goddess frowned at Cayden Cailean, shaking her head.

“The longer you stay near the Stone, the more damage it does to your living form. Even undead, you still suffer from its effects. You must choose Jakun. An eternity of servitude, or a life of mortality, for even liches are fated to perish.”

“And Aroden?” Jakun asked. “Why is he gone?”

“Only Pharasma truly knows, but I believe five thousand years under the influence of the Stone broke him,” Iomedae said sadly. “Unfortunately, the lady of graves is unforthcoming with the cause of his death. You understand that if you become a god, you cannot use the power the Stone gives to kill your former master. Sure, you may raise armies in your name, to fight in your stead. But the binding prevents you from directly affecting people on the Material Plane. It is the one of the only reasons you were able to become a lich. That, and the dragon who mentored you was not of this universe, and was a god in his own right. He could not be affected by its laws.”

“Wait… was that why he allowed me to sacrifice him?”

Iomedae nodded.

“He’s nowhere to be found; not even Pharasma knows what happened to him. She really wants to get her hands on you,” Cayden Cailean smirked. “If you do return to the world, you will probably spend the rest of your days fighting her followers off. Even your paladin won’t be able to help you.”

“And Jeremy? Anya? Aofe? Can I help them if I’m a god?”

“It is… unlikely,” Iomedae said. “Pharasma guards her realm jealously, and would never allow a soul to escape its doom. This is a choice made often in the moment, a choice with long lasting consequences. You are dying as we speak, your form unravelling. At best you have five minutes to choose.”

Looking down at his body, Jakun realised his flesh was melting, burns appearing all over his torso. He winced involuntarily, looking back at the Stone that was radiating such power.

“I am evil…” he said. “Why? I’ve always tried to be good, to do good.”

“You disrespect the dead. Using their corpses for your own gain is against the very laws of nature. That is an evil act, no matter how the bodies are used,” Cayden Cailean frowned. “But, I do understand. Sending a dead body to scoop up a child from a fire is a lot safer than going into the fire yourself. It’s one of those things that I would honestly give a pass on, but the other gods, well, it’s still evil.”

“There are those who would seek to destroy your church regardless of the good they do, and there would likely be those who do evil acts in your name.”

“I don’t want any of that. I’ve caused enough death as it is,” Jakun said quietly.

“That is the burden of godhood. That is what you came here for.”

“Deification is a bitch,” Cayden Cailean said, a hand idly stirring his drink. “It does have its perks though.”

“Would I help the world by becoming a god? Could I save the people I care about?”

“Who do you still care about on the Material Plane?” Norgorber spoke up. “A paladin who saved you from slavery? You were a good deed for him, a body to mold how he wished.”

“That is true, he did try to show you the good in life,” Cayden Cailean shrugged. “In my experience, most evil doers do not like being held accountable for their actions.”

“I would take the punishment given if it would help any of my friends,” Jakun said.

“It’s too late for that. Not even we can change fate,” Iomedae said. “If you truly wish to do good, sacrifice yourself. Become a god, and protect this world with us.”

“There is another way though,” Cayden Cailean said. “You could petition the church of Sarenrae. She is always redeeming people. If you aren’t killed instantly upon entering her temple, her clerics might be able to reverse your undeath, and let you live a mortal life of penance. I mean, I wouldn’t do it, it sounds terrible. But it is an option.”

“Do I truly have a choice? My actions are already set, aren’t they?”

“Since Aroden’s demise, prophecies have become… unreliable, at best. You have a choice, and the future, immutable though it may be, is also unknowable. Choices matter, and though you may feel you were brought here by an inexorable force, what happens next is your choice,” Iomedae said.

Jakun stepped toward the Stone, looking at the deities around him. His life flashed before his eyes, a life of struggle, of violence. The catfolk couldn’t understand how he would ever be redeemed. And even if he could be, he would still be hunted by Pharasma. But was he ready to truly give up mortality? Could he put the work in to become a good amurrun again, if he had ever been one to begin with?

“If… If I do die here… would I return?”

“It is doubtful,” Norgorber said. “The Stone would destroy your mind. Even liches cannot escape its death.”

The amurrun turned to Cayden Cailean, a worried look on his face.

“If I die, you’ll tell Amnor Sen what happened, right?”

The god nodded, clapping a hand on the catfolk’s shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Jakun fought with himself briefly, standing on the edge of a precipice. And he made his choice as he had made all choices, suddenly, in a moment of panic.