The black plain stretched out before Daron like an endless dark mirror.
The eclipsed sun burned on the horizon, barely illuminating the place. He blinked, expecting to see the ethereal form of the God of Death before him. But instead, a figure emerged from the darkness.
Ashen-white skin, stark against raven black hair. Dark eyes, sunken and rimmed by haunting circles, yet strangely attractive. The young man stood barefoot on the obsidian ground, clad in a simple white dress shirt and dark slacks. He looked...familiar, like a distorted reflection.
Daron frowned. "Who are you?"
A flicker of amusement passed over the man's pale features.
He took a step closer, movements graceful and measured. "I thought you might recognize me, Daron Lamb. After all, we are bound by contract now."
The God of Death, but not as Daron had last seen him.
Why appear like this? What does it mean?
The man tilted his head, studying Daron with those fathomless eyes. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "You seem surprised. Is this form not to your liking?"
"It's just...unexpected. I didn't know gods could change their appearance like that."
"Oh, this is nothing. There are many things about gods that mortals do not realize."
The man took another step, closing the distance between them. "But you and I, we have an opportunity to learn much from each other. Partners, of a sort."
Daron met the god's penetrating gaze, refusing to look away despite the unease prickling his skin.
"Partners," Daron repeated, the word feeling strange on his tongue. "So, what should I call you then? I don't wanna say God of Death whenever I talk to you. Do gods have names?"
The man's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally white against his ashen skin. "You may call me Morveth. It was a name given to me long ago, I grew quite accustomed to it."
Daron nodded. "Morveth," he said, testing the name. Then, a hint of mischief entered his eyes. "How about I call you Mori for short?"
Morveth blinked, clearly taken aback by the suggestion. His brow furrowed slightly, as if unsure how to respond to such casual familiarity.
"Mori," he repeated slowly, as though tasting the word. "Why would you—"
"Great. Mori it is then."
Daron grinned, feeling a small surge of triumph at catching the god off guard. It made him seem almost human, in a way.
The god regarded him silently for a moment, those dark eyes searching Daron's face. "You are a peculiar mortal, Daron Lamb. Most would tremble in the presence of a god, yet you stand here giving me nicknames."
Daron shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, you said it, we're partners now, right? Might as well get comfortable with each other."
Morveth's lips twitched, as if fighting back a smile.
"Indeed. There is much for us to discuss, you and I." He gestured to the endless expanse of the void around them. "But first, tell me. What do you hope to gain from this partnership?"
"Well first of all, I didn't want to die in that hole… you seemed like a solid option to me."
The God's gaze seemed to pierce through Daron. "And?"
Daron's eyes hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Answers," he said firmly. "And power. The power to make things right… and to never lose someone again."
The god nodded, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Then let us begin, partner. There is much work to be done."
Daron's brow furrowed as a thought struck him. "Wait. First, what happened after our deal? I woke up in the hospital with no memory of how I got there."
Morveth's expression turned contemplative. "Ah, yes. Well, you see, I had to borrow your body for a bit. To escape from our little prison."
"You what?" Daron's eyes widened.
The god waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't look so scandalized. It's not like you were in any state to do it yourself. Your magical powers are still in their early stages, barely existent, if at all."
Daron's jaw clenched, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back. As much as he hated to admit it, Morveth was right. He had no idea about magic.
"Fine," he ground out. "But what exactly did you do while you were in control?"
A slow, unsettling smile spread across Morveth's face. "Would you like to see?"
Before Daron could respond, a flood of images rushed into his mind, vivid and visceral. He saw through Morveth's eyes as the god tore through the Order's hideout, leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Blood splattered the walls, screams echoed in the air, and bodies crumpled to the floor like discarded rag dolls.
To his surprise, Daron felt no remorse as he witnessed the slaughter. He felt only a cold, detached fascination. His old self would have recoiled in horror at such thoughts.
One memory in particular caught his attention - the image of Burge, the sadistic torturer, lying in a pool of his own blood, fleshy wounds over his body, his face frozen in an expression of agony. Daron replayed the moment over and over in his mind's eye, savoring the sight of his tormentor's demise.
And yet, beneath the satisfaction, there was a flicker of unease. A small, distant part of him that whispered this was wrong, that he shouldn't take pleasure in such violence.
Daron pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the power portrayed by the memories, the potential that lay dormant within him. With Morveth's help, he could harness that power, shape it into a weapon to wield against those who had wronged him.
"Do not be mistaken, child." Morveth said as if reading his thoughts. "I made it look easy, but there is a long journey ahead of you, before you can replicate even a fraction of my prowess and power."
"I understand," Daron said quietly, meeting the god's gaze. "But I will get there. What matters now is moving forward."
Morveth's smile widened, a glint of approval in his dark eyes. "Well said. Well said indeed."
His expression then turned thoughtful, his eyes drifting to the endless void above. "There was...a complication, of sort. To escape our prison, I had to force your Nexus to unfold further than it should have yet."
Daron's brow furrowed, a flicker of unease sparking in his chest. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Morveth explained patiently, "that your path has become much steeper. Think of it like this: a normal magician starts with small hills, each one preparing them for the next. You've been placed on a peak far higher than those hills, without the gradual buildup. It's as if you've skipped the easy climbs and are now facing a sheer, unforgiving cliff. You start at an advanced mountain, hundreds of meters higher than the normal beginner's hill. Do you understand?"
Daron's fists clenched at his sides, frustration boiling over. "So I'm still powerless, even after everything that's happened? You've made it harder for me, not easier."
"For now," Morveth conceded, his tone unruffled by Daron's growing anger. "But remember, every peak you conquer will now be much more rewarding. The climb is steeper, yes, but the view from the top will be far more magnificent. And you are not alone in this. You have an important advantage: you have me. I will be there to guide you every step of the way, offering insights no mortal mentor could provide."
Daron's mind raced. He thought of his parents, of Burge, Thorne and Laurence. He thought of the years they must have spent building their magical knowledge, the steady progress they had made. Could he really catch up, let alone surpass them, with this new handicap?
Morveth continued, his voice almost soothing. "Every magician faces struggles when their Nexus blooms. Yours will be different, more intense, but not insurmountable. You will learn to harness your abilities in ways that others cannot even imagine. The power you seek is within your grasp, but you must be patient and persistent."
"Patient?" Daron spat. "I don't have time to be patient. Every day that passes is a day my parents' killers go unpunished."
The god's eyes softened, a rare flicker of empathy crossing his ashen face. "I understand your urgency, Daron. Vengeance can be a powerful motivator, but rushing headlong into it will only lead to your ruin. You must think long-term. Build a foundation that will support the weight of your ambitions."
Daron said nothing, his jaw set in a hard line. He knew Morveth was right, but accepting it was another matter entirely. The thought of waiting, of biding his time, was almost more than he could bear.
"Remember," Morveth added, "the greatest warriors are those who can endure the longest battles. You will grow stronger, and when the time comes, you will be ready. This I promise."
Daron nodded slowly, the promise of future strength easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He would grow stronger, he vowed silently. Strong enough to avenge his parents, to make their killers pay for what they had done.
A sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked up at Morveth with a frown. "Why didn't you do more, when you took over my body? You could have wreaked havoc, but instead you only killed a handful of men."
Morveth's smile turned rueful. "I am but a fragment of my true self, a tiny sliver of consciousness that managed to esca-"
He cut off abruptly, his form flickering like a candle in the wind. For a moment, Daron caught a glimpse of something vast and ancient behind those dark eyes, a power that he could not comprehend.
A sudden gasp shattered the stillness, and Morveth crumpled to the ground, his body convulsing in agony. Daron's eyes widened, his heart pounding as he watched the god writhe on the dark plain, fingers clawing at his chest. As abruptly as it began, Morveth's spasms stopped, his breathing evening out into a steady rhythm. With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his face pale and drawn.
Then the moment passed, and Morveth was himself again, smooth and unruffled as before.
"Are you… okay?"
"It's nothing," he said, waving away Daron's concern with a dismissive gesture. "Just a momentary weakness. Nothing for you to worry about."
Daron frowned, unconvinced. "Are you sure? It looked like you were in a lot of pain there."
Morveth's lips twitched into a wry smile. "There are some things that even a god cannot speak of, Daron. Suffice it to say that my current state is not without its... limitations. Let's not dwell on this."
The God tried to change the topic. What had just happened? Questions for another time, Daron decided. He felt that pressing for answers right now would be… a mistake.
"In any case," Morveth continued, his tone businesslike He held out his hand, and Daron felt a tingle of energy dance across his skin. "I will help you grow stronger, Daron."
His dark eyes gleamed with a hungry light. "And together, we will have our revenge."
Daron's heart raced at the promise in those words. The cold certainty in Morveth's gaze made him feel like it was not only possible, it was inevitable.
"I'm ready," he said, his voice steady and strong. "Teach me."
Daron reached out, touching the offered hand. Morveth's hand was cold as Daron grasped it, a chill that seemed to seep into his very bones. The world around them shimmered and wavered, the black plain dissolving into wisps of shadow.
As he drifted back into consciousness, the fading voice of Morveth echoed through his mind.
"… Soon, child."