Chapter 167: Book 8 Chapter 2

Joan shuddered when she felt what she could only describe as a ripple through reality. As if everything just kind of bounced all at once slightly. It was nauseating.

Joan was almost through the tunnel, though, and could see a light at the end of it. More importantly, she could hear voices. That had to be him. The concerning part was she heard more than one voice. She wondered if it was possible for Penthe to be here.

She froze in place when she made it to the end of the tunnel and her eyes fell on the source of the voices. Dozens, if not hundreds, of elves. An entire village. Talking, bartering, discussing amongst themselves.

HOW? Joan looked around, but it didn’t make any sense. She slowly stepped into the chamber and froze. There was dirt underfoot and an entire keep in the massive chamber, but far, far away she could see something else. It looked like a great, white void covered in cracks. As if reality itself had been shattered, with dark lines etched into it. Ripples of magic seemed to hum along the lines, spilling out in a strange assortment of colors. Just looking at it made her nauseous and she quickly turned her attention towards the elves. “Hello?” she called out.

None of them so much as looked at her.

“Hello?” Joan asked before she started walking towards them. They just continued on their business. Of course, they were just…

She paused when she came close enough to hear what they were saying. Or rather, weren’t saying.

Two near the tunnel seemed to be discussing something, but while their mouths were moving no words were actually being spoken. More just a strange muffled sound of many voices speaking at once. On top of that, when they moved, it was as if they were trapped in some kind of loop, repeating the same movements over and over.

The more she watched the more she realized they were all moving like that. No actual words, repeated movements. They weren’t real.

Slowly Joan came closer, stepping on the grass… only for her feet to go through it and touch the ground beneath. She passed one of the elves and reached out, but her hand went through him. It was just an illusion. A massive illusion, true, but all fake.

Amazing. She’d never seen anything like this outside of the Realm of Dreams. She wondered if that meant this Realm of the Gods was closer to the Peacock and Phoenix realm than any of the other gods. Or maybe it was just damaged and it made such magics easier. That or whoever constructed it was just that incredible. She found that unlikely. She doubted even the Chosen could make illusions this complex for long.

But the more she focused on it, the more unreal it seemed. Some of the illusions were missing fingers, or had an extra arm, or kind of seemed to phase in and out of existence at times. A constant repeating loop that became more flawed the more she studied it. She slowly walked through the village, looking for anything that was actually real.

Joan was near the center of the village when she finally found something. A single crystal ball on a table, with a tome resting haphazardly besides it. She reached out, gingerly, to touch them and true enough, they were solid. As far as she could tell they were the only real things here. She picked up the tome and started flipping through it.

A spell book.

It took a few moments, but soon the bracer seemed to translate the words on the pages so she could read them. “Know that one, know that one, wow, that’s new,” Joan mumbled to herself. She then gave a light snort. “Wow, really? THAT method? Talk about overdoing such a simple spell. Wait, that method went out centuries ago. Ohhhh, that’s new. Wait, you can’t do that, can you? Ohhhh, I’ve got to try that. Korgron is going to love it. Oh, ew. No, why would anyone do a fire spell like that? It’d be like trying to make a spark underwater. Oh, that’s just--”

A hand suddenly came down on her shoulder, gripping it tightly with thin, bony fingers. “You know,” a cold, gruff voice said. “Most people don’t grab someone else’s spell book to--”

Joan never heard what else the person had to say as she shrieked and whipped around, smashing the book against the side of his head. He stumbled back, though how startled he was she couldn’t say. He was covered in a thick, red cloak, his face hidden beneath the hood. She could now see the hand, though. More importantly, she could see that there was no flesh on that hand, only bone.

The creature regained its footing and rose to its full height. “You dare to str--”

Joan smashed the book down on top of its head a moment later. Yes it was real! A defense? Who used skeleton defenses? WHY?

“Stop tha--” The third strike was to the stomach, the fourth an upward strike to the chin. The creature fell back, landing on the ground and the hood knocked free, revealing the hollow skull underneath the hood. She didn’t know a skull could look annoyed, but it certainly did. “STOP THAT!” he roared, though how it could yell without any organs she didn’t know. It was--

A lich. Joan froze in place, her mouth falling open, but she kept the book ready to smash it again. “Uhhhh…”

“Are you done trying to beat me with my own spell book?”

“That depends,” Joan said. “Are you the lich who was imprisoned here?”

For a moment, the lich’s eyes glowed white. “Do you see any other lichs here?” he asked bitterly. “How did you--” Then he stopped. Oh, surprise was not a look she ever expected to see on a skull. It was kind of creepy. “Wait, I remember you. You’re the one who… you came.”

“Are you the one who’s been spying on me?” Joan asked.

“Yes! I--” His words were cut out by one last strike on the head, at least she held back this time.

“Do you have ANY idea how annoying all of this was?” Joan asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “If you wanted my help so much you should have told me what you wanted! Do you know how confusing and disorienting it is to just FEEL like someone is constantly watching you? Then that message! Release you? I didn’t even know who you were! The only reason I even knew you were here was because of all those notes with Boney!”

“What?” the lich asked, covering his head with his arms. “Will you please stop hitting me and I will explain!” He waved his hands and village just disappeared. All of it. All that remained in the strange hall was the table, the orb and the book. Well, and the strange, shattered wall across the hall from them. “Everything.”

“I cannot guarantee I won’t hit you again,” Joan said. “But go ahead and talk.”

The lich gave a growl, looking up at her. “If I did not know better I would assume you truly were a child.”

“I am,” Joan said. “Just with a bit extra. A lot extra. It’s a whole thing.”

“It must be, otherwise you would never have been able to open this door,” the lich said before slowly getting to his feet. She quickly took a step back, but he shook his head. “I will not harm you, creature.”

“Joan,” Joan said.

“Joan,” the lich said. “I wish only to be free and to help save my home. My apologies for my messages being unclear, they require great energy and time to prepare and I have only had a short while to gather the necessary power. Even my last message to you took days to gather the power necessary.”

“Days?” Joan asked. “But that was ages ago.”

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The lich nodded. “Indeed, to you perhaps. Time does not flow the same within this realm,” he said. “To those within, only mere moments may pass outside of them. However…” His gaze turned towards the cracks. “That only applies to the living. For my first few years within this… tomb… time had seemed to cease outside of its walls. But then it was as if time had stopped within. One of the doorways were shattered, ensuring only a single other entrance.”

“One guarded by an army of massive spiders,” Joan said softly, giving a shudder.

“Perhaps,” the lich said. “But time here can be erratic. A day may pass, while years may pass in the mortal realm. Sometimes, the reverse. I cannot truly say. It has been… countless… ages… since I have found one who could open the gateway. I had believed I would be trapped here forever.”

Joan blinked a few times before glancing towards the tunnel she had come through, then turning to him. “Wait. So you were spying on me because I could open the doorway to the gods? That’s it?”

“Indeed,” the lich said.

“No other reason?” Joan asked.

“Should there be?” the lich asked.

Joan opened her mouth to mention there was a very specific reason he should have, but now that she thought about it the Hero had never received these messages or been spied on as far as she could tell. At least not by him. It felt oddly invigorating to have someone trying to contact her and NOT the Hero for once. Even if she supposed the only reason she could even uses the doorways was because of the Hero. “No, I guess not.”

“I have been gathering what power I could to contact you,” the lich said. “But it takes time. Tell me, how long has it been since I was sealed away in here?”

Joan blinked a few times and felt a small bit of nervousness enter her. “Oh, err, right. It uhhh… it has been a while. So, if you were locked here before the plague, then… well, during the plague? It has been… centuries.”

“Centuries?” the lich asked. He didn’t sound as surprised as she would have expected. Then again, if she was the only one with the capability to open the doorway, then he probably had already suspected. “Then… my people…”

“The plague eliminated many,” Joan said softly. “But there are still elves. Some of the keeps remain, but not… many.”

“Then it succeeded,” the lich said. “Listen well, Joan. The information I hold is vital. I do not know how much I can share with you without putting you at risk, but you must aid me in leaving this realm.”

Joan nodded, clenching the book even tighter. “I-I see. What… do you know?”

The lich was silent for a long moment before sighing. “Our world is under a terrible spell, brought on by a creature known as the Devourer of Minds. It--”

“Oh, already broke that spell,” Joan said.

The lich was silent then, staring at her. He didn’t move for a few seconds before finally he spoke up. “What?”

“We broke that spell,” Joan said. “Well, the Chosen did. It was how I knew to come here.”

“You… knew about it,” the lich said. “And you’re not… dead.”

“Nope,” Joan said.

“I see. Well, then, err, good for you. But there is still other things I must share with you, the Chosen and the Hero. The threats we face, they are--”

“The offspring of the Hungry One?” Joan asked. “An evil god that has been trying to destroy our world for ages so it can devour our souls and move onto other worlds?”

“You… you know?” the lich asked, his tone soft and saddened.

“Errr…” Joan said sheepishly. “I mean, uhhh, I’m sure there’s plenty I don’t…”

“Are… are you aware of the… corruption of the…”

“Yes,” Joan said. “The Hero, or Champion, was corrupted and kind of possessed by the Hungry One. There’s a new hero in his place. Or, well, was.”

“Was?” the lich asked before falling to his knees and, softly, just began to laugh. “Everything…”

“What?” Joan asked.

“I gave up… everything…” the lich said. “My mortality. My family. My hopes. My life. All of it. All of it just… to try. I became this… thing… so I could… so I could try to end this. And you already know? It was for NOTHING?”

Joan cringed and, slowly, she lowered the book and walked over to him, before gently patting him on the shoulders. “There, there. It wasn’t for nothing, I’m sure. I mean, if not for what you did, I wouldn’t be here. Boney wouldn’t have been able to help me. Are you okay?”

“Do I LOOK okay?” the lich asked. “I have been trapped here for the gods know how long, with only those illusions to keep me company. The only thing that has kept me sane, that has given me comfort, is knowing that I would, one day, be able to fix things. That it wouldn’t be for nothing. That once they understood what it was that was happening, they’d see why I had to do what I did. Now it turns out it was MEANINGLESS?” the lich yelled, slamming a fist down on the ground.

Joan gave a soft sigh, though she couldn’t help feeling a small sense of kinship with the undead creature. This, of all things, had to be painful.