"This is good enough, old friend," I said to Nidhogg, gratefully, my voice like the rustling of dry leaves, as we reached the oak door that separated my laboratory from the rest of the inverted fortress. I dismounted slowly from his back, aided by my loyal companion and giant woodlouse. My joints, locked by arboreal and petrified growths, creaked, a sharp, unpleasant sound, and I grimaced. Nidhogg let out a rhythmic hiss, a tone of warning and irritation at my stiffness. "You're quite right," I agreed, running a hand over my moss-beard, which reached the middle of my sternum. Nidhogg released his equivalent of a sigh, as if I had stated the obvious. "I really need a pruning to free up the joints. Can you call Ratatosk for me? No one prunes my old joints like that squirrel," I asked, entering the room and caressing the Twilight Vines. Upon feeling my touch, their light violet flowers opened, revealing a small ball of greenish-yellow light that brought life to the surroundings. The calming scent of flowers filled the room, awakening Hür, the fox, who slept peacefully in the farthest corner.
My laboratory was spacious but filled with magical items, alchemical components, plant pots, animal beds, and, in the center, a Sun Cherry tree. The tree greeted me. "Good afternoon to you too, Yig," I replied with a nod, as I slowly approached my red velvet armchair and fluffed the cushions. "How have my wards been during these two days?" Yig responded with a slight and slow sway of its leaves, accompanied by a soft murmur. "Good to know everything went well," the tree interrupted me with additional light crackling sounds, indicating slight irritation. "I'm sorry the aconites said that; I'll reprimand them as soon as I get to the garden," I replied, feigning seriousness in a horrible performance. Yig chuckled softly in its rustling.
Pleasantries aside, there was much to be done, and between meetings and forms, little time to do it. While Nidhogg went to fetch Ratatosk, my thoughts turned to my latest botanical concerns. I walked to the door of the greenhouse attached to my research nook, eager to check on the Twilight Mandrakes, my unstable crossbreed between mandrakes and Twilight Vines. The ambition was for them to inherit the magical irradiation of the Vines. As I opened the door, the glow of the greenhouse's artificial sun hit my amber horns, adding orange patterns to the floor behind me. Looking inside, I saw 12 beds arranged in six rows of two, each 3 meters by half, leaving a corridor of about a meter in-between. At least 5 were empty, awaiting the planting of new seedlings after the failures of previous crossbreeding attempts. The last of the 6 used in the Twilight Mandrake experiment was at the far left. Only dry branches with tiny, lifeless leaves emerged from the soil; my sixth attempt had also failed. A result was neither good nor bad; it was just a result, after all. My eyes scanned the dry branches, a familiar sense of resignation passing through me, accompanied by a pang of scientific frustration. Death would come to (almost) everyone, but these plants were the best attempt to stabilize the fluctuation of reality.
Running my thin hands over the leaves of my wards, I took some samples for testing; at another time, I would return to give them a dignified end. I looked around, analyzing the other plants; all seemed healthy. The cause of the Twilight Mandrakes' death was not drought or lack of nutrients. Something in the crossbreeding made them unstable, and discovering what that was would be my next task. After collecting the samples, my spine, with pieces of wood protesting, returned to the laboratory, greeted by Ratatosk hanging from Yig.
"There's the great Guardian of K'gal-giz! You look worn out, old friend," said the squirrel, with a jovial air. Contrary to expectations, he was something close to one meter and ten centimeters tall, his light brown fur was well-brushed and had touches of gray that indicated his centuries of life. His teeth were white, and his cheeks wobbled adorably every time he spoke in a human language. "You look tired, Great Druid."
"Ex-druid, I'm a Lich now" I replied, trying to sound amused, but Ratatosk's expression indicated that the attempt had failed. After a short, uncomfortable pause, I continued, "Anyway, thank you for coming so promptly, Tosk; I know you're a busy squirrel," I said sincerely. Ratatosk took care of the health of T'gu-iz, the tree of life, without him, the world would fall to chaos. That was why his pruning skills were the ones I trusted most. "Can you help me with these stiff joints, Tosk?"
Ratatosk nodded a hesitant consent, as if slowly returning to the present. "Certainly, Fey, how would you like me to do it?" he asked, descending from my cherry tree and reaching the ground, the nails of his paws lightly scratching the cold floor. "The usual" i replied. It's been about 5 years since my last pruning, but I didn't want anything too short, "I like this little connection I have with the living world", I added, sitting on a backless stool and taking off my robe to remain only in my breeches. Hür moved a full-length mirror so I could see my myself fully. In my reflection, I saw a tired middle-aged man, with some muscle, and deep shadows under his eyes. Except for the pieces of tree growing on parts of my body, the twisted amber horns, and my fully bright green eyes, I looked like a normal man, slightly pale if anything. Ratatosk jumped behind me, his paws touching where my muscles and bark joined. "I recommend something more mobile, Fey. I have a feeling you'll need to move nimbly in the not-too-distant future," said the squirrel perched on my shoulder. I tried to look into his eyes, but he looked away. Ratatosk's premonitions were never mere hunches, as his strong connection to the tree of life gave him a unique perspective on the world. The last time I heard a similar hunch was before the Corrupted Dragon invaded the groves of K'gal-giz and almost destroyed the tree of life. It was during that cataclysmic event that I became a Lich. I felt a shiver run down my body, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "What do you know, Ratatosk?" My voice rose to the point of making Hür hide and Yig wilt slightly. The moment I shouted, I regretted it. Ratatosk couldn't share T'gu-iz's visions, it was an unbreakable law. Trying to compose myself, I corrected myself, "I'm sorry, Tosk; I demanded something of you, knowing full well your limitations. I crossed a line I shouldn't have." Ratatosk's ears, previously clearly folded back, perked up a little. "You know I would tell you everything if I could," the squirrel sniffed, "but what I can say is: a storm is brewing on the horizon. You and the other Lichs need to prepare." The mention of the other liches aggravated my concerns. If all five of us were to be involved, the danger could only come from one place. The creatures we defeated in the past and the reason we founded the guild would return. This will be catastrophic, I thought to myself. "I will accept your suggestion. Prune and cut everything that is not necessary; I hava feeling I'll need all my mobility back" I spoke. Ratatosk agreed, after recomposing himself, and began to gnaw at the wood. " This might be unpleasant, Fey…" he said, i told him not to mind. True to his word he sensation was uncomfortable and at times painful, given the fact that the wood grew out of my flesh. Ratatosk perfectly sculpted my spine, removed the petrified wood that locked my knees and elbows. He worked quickly, but there was much to be done. Some growths had to be completely torn off, causing a dark, stagnant purple blood to flow from the wounds. It didn't matter; I needed every advantage I could get.
The process took a few hours, during which Hür watched me with concern. Even Nidhogg, who had decided to doze off after bringing Ratatosk, woke up and stared at me, an expression of attention and care always present on his face. Throughout the procedure, memories of the past seeped into my mind: the fight against the Dragon, the breaking of the Taboo, the alliance of the liches to defeat the Demons of LaVey. The ideas of containment, the combat plans, the resources to be gathered and subsequently used, all in a whirlwind that blurred my vision. Taking a deep breath for the first time since I died, I let go of worries and regrets, shedding them along with the bark of the wood. When we finished, Yig slowly bent its branches, a great effort for a tree, and touched the wounds. The tree's touch closed them into thin, silvery scars, giving a more spectral air to this middling body. Who knew a tree would be such a good healer, I thought fondly, abstracting darker topics. Can I say that, even though my surgeon was a gigantic, talking squirrel? I smiled to myself.
Stretching in front of the mirror, I could hear bones cracking, finally free from the tension accumulated over decades, perhaps even centuries. Having said that, the continuous plate of my back had transformed into individual vertebrae, allowing me to straighten my posture. Ratatosk's work was meticulous, every wooden piece had an intricate carving. The growth on my left shoulder was sculpted into a quarter-dome shape, becoming a hard wooden pauldron and ironically, had T'gu-iz as a carving. The plates that locked my knees were now just scars from my calves to the kneecaps, ending in small diamond shapes. On my right arm, where the forearm trunk merged with the branches on the back of my hand, now resided a grayish-brown bracer, decorated with the guild symbol, separate from the plate on the back of my hand. My stiff fingers now had free movement, and two of the branches, which were attached to my index and middle fingers, had been sculpted into two wooden claws, which would serve as my arcane focus. I couldn't help but smile at the newfound freedom.
"It looks very good, modesty aside. Now all that's missing is the beard and the horns, Fey" Ratatosk observed, clearly pleased with his artwork. "What are we going to do with them?" I saw a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew how attached I was to the moss on my face and especially the horns on my forehead, my symbol as Guardian of K'gal-giz.
"We'll trim the beard so it can't be easily pulled in close combat, but don't touch the horns; it took ages to get them into this shape." The two amber crystallizations had the shape of symmetrical spirals slightly inclined backward, with the tip creating a sudden curve forward. The smooth surface of the horns had been polished, completing the look of the only adornment on my hairless head. "I like how the light refracts in the amber and dances around me; it looks so… alive." My friend lowered his head, feigning disappointment. "You're such a spoilsport. Fine, I won't touch the horns, but the beard is going to be significant. Let's give a makeover to your handsomely dead face" I sat down again, and Ratatosk pulled up another stool to be at the height of my face. This time he used his claws to cut the excess and adjust the shape.
With my full body aesthetic care session finished, Ratatosk hastened to return home. "You know how moody T'gu-iz gets when I spend too much time away," said the squirrel, exasperated, as he climbed Yig. "I need to get back before she wilts," he chuckled. And then he disappeared into Yig's canopy as I waved goodbye. Ratatosk was a magical squirrel who took care of the tree of life; clearly, he could use trees to transport himself from one place to another.
Before leaving, I asked Ratatosk where I should investigate to get more information. His answer was simply, "I can't reveal that, Fey, but definitely don't go to Hadgest's tomb; strange and dangerous things have been happening there," he added mischievously. "That's all I can tell a friend." Then, I took my brown cloak, the one I used to leave the inverted castle, and conjured, for the first time in a long time, the orb of decomposition. It was a smooth sphere, of a material and color similar to my horns. In its center was an unsettling darkness. Its weight in the palm of my hand did not match its size, slightly larger than an apple. Looking at it made me uneasy; I was looking at the center of myself.
A knock on the door pulled me from my sinister contemplation. I hid the orb in the folds of my robe so it wouldn't be seen by the unexpected visitor. Then I walked to the door with wide steps, curious to see who was looking for me at this hour. Upon opening the door, I was faced with one of the guild's servants, a gaunt skeleton with a fearful air. "Hello, Martin, how have you been?" I asked, as friendly as I could manage, given my surprise. Martin shifted his weight between his legs. "Well, Mr. Feyrot, but I'm afraid I bring bad news," he replied apprehensively. I gestured for him to enter, which Martin did hesitantly. "What worries you, my young man?" I questioned, sitting at my desk and indicating the chair with my hand. He didn't sit. "My Lord, the Sorcerer King of Vorlag sends his deepest apologies, but due to an accident during his exercises, the demi-dragon you requested has been killed," he finished, worried about being reprimanded. I laughed deeply. When Morthos suggested that the Sorcerer King vent his frustration on the demi-dragon, I knew it would end like this. When I explained this to poor Martin, he relaxed. "As long as I have access to the monster's scales, blood, and bones, I can manage," I explained, "although a live specimen would be more useful. Convey my sentiments to the King." Martin looked uncomfortable again. "While I have you here, I want you to deliver a message to the other Liches of the guild: Tell them I'm preparing for a belated vacation; I should be traveling in two days. If they ask how long I'll be gone, say I intend to be away for two weeks, maybe a month." If Martin was uncomfortable before, now he would be pale if he were mortal. "Come on, Martin, I'll accompany you to the corridor. I need to meet Dunas in the herbarium." I gently pushed my unusual visitor towards the exit. "Yig, you'll be in charge during my trip. Hür, help Yig," I said, closing the wooden door. When it was just Martin and me in the corridor, he looked at me and asked, sincerely, "Mr. Feyrot, did you cut your hair?"