Seven's heart pounded as the familiar knock echoed once more from behind the door, shattering the silence of the ruined world around him.
He froze, his breath hitching.
The room was suffocatingly dark, the stale air pressing in on him.
He was supposed to be alone.
And yet, the knock came again, steady and deliberate, as if whoever was on the other side knew he was there.
Seven quickly moved away from the door, his heart racing. He held his breath, listening, but all he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the door creaked open. Cold air drifted in from the darkness beyond.
A figure stepped in, defying both expectation and darkness, a lich whose very presence was at once terrifying and enigmatic.
Emerging from the shadows, the lich's form was draped in tattered, ancient robes that swirled around him like living smoke.
His eyes glowed with an icy, spectral light, their gaze piercing through Seven as though dissecting his very soul.
The lich's skeletal features were sharp, almost regal, and his long, bony fingers curled slightly at the tips as if still clinging to the remnants of a forgotten grace.
When he spoke, his voice resonated with a deep, archaic cadence, a language that slithered through the air like a serpent, heavy with the weight of centuries.
For a heartbeat, Seven braced for annihilation.
His mind screamed in a torrent of panic, I am dead, I am dead, I am dead!
Terror surged through him as the reality of his situation crashed over him like a tidal wave.
The lich's tone dripped with ancient menace, his posture radiating a power that could unravel worlds.
But then, the creature paused.
His glowing eyes flickered, narrowing as he studied Seven with sudden curiosity.
"A human-shaped beast? But how?"
The lich's thoughts slithered into Seven's mind, unbidden yet crystalline, as though the words had been etched directly onto his consciousness.
"I sensed something when my spell stirred that peculiar skeleton—far more intact than the rot-eaten others here. But this…?"
The lich tilted his skull, his robes rustling softly like dry leaves.
His gaze slowly swept over Seven once more, pausing on the dagger clutched in his trembling hand, tracing over the dirt-stained clothes, and finally settling on the faint scar that marked his cheek.
I am dead, I am dead, I am dead! echoed relentlessly in Seven's mind, a mantra of panic that left him reeling.
I can't be... I must be dreaming...
A low chuckle emanated from the lich as he continued, his tone shifting unexpectedly from foreboding to a dark, amused levity.
"Yours truly might be the luckiest person alive in this world" he mused, both aloud and within Seven's mind,
"To witness such a scene of beauty, a living human, or perhaps a human-shaped beast, though I cannot yet decide which you are.
Either way, the sight before me is unlike any I've encountered in this forsaken world. My interest, I must admit, has truly been piqued."
His bony fingers drummed lightly on the air, as if savoring each syllable that left his lips.
"Oh, but wait—I almost forgot, I was the only person alive in this wretched world. One might say I was already lucky enough. And now, this? Oh, wait, let me rephrase: Yours truly forgot again! For I am not even alive, in the manner of the living, for I am a lich."
The words slithered into Seven's mind like dark, mocking poetry.
Despite the relentless panic, I am dead, I am dead, I am dead!, that hammered in his skull, a curious mixture of amusement and dread twined within him.
The lich's initial menace had dissolved into a perverse kind of courtesy, his tone both eerie and unexpectedly welcoming.
Slowly, deliberately, the lich stepped closer, his glowing eyes never leaving Seven's terrified face.
He reached out and placed a bony hand on Seven's shoulder.
The touch was cool, yet beneath it, a strange warmth blossomed—a silent reassurance that belied the lich's ghastly appearance.
"Fear not, little chimera" the lich transmitted in a softened, almost tender mental cadence.
"I have no desire to extinguish such a rare spark, not when it has only just begun to burn. A flame like yours, fragile yet fierce, deserves to see how brightly it can glow before it fades."
For a long, breathless moment, Seven remained frozen—his mind spiraling in a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.
What is this? What does this mean? Why is it here?
The air felt thick with dread, every part of him screaming to flee, but his legs wouldn't move.
This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be seeing this. It's impossible. But here it is. It's right in front of me...
The lich's eyes crinkled, as much as a skull could, into what might have been a smile, as he withdrew his hand slightly.
"Come now," his thoughts purred, resonating softly through the oppressive silence. "Let us see what destiny has woven for us both."
Seven stood frozen, his mind a tangled mess of confusion. He could hardly make sense of anything, his thoughts spinning in all directions.
What is this? What's going on? Why is this thing here?
His body refused to move, as if locked in place by the sheer weight of the situation.
The lich stood silently, waiting, its cold eyes fixed on him, offering no explanation, only an eerie calm.
Meanwhile, panic surged through him.
His heart pounded in his chest, but his limbs wouldn't respond.
I don't understand. How can this be real? What am I supposed to do?
The lich's dark, amused words floated through the air, like some twisted invitation to face whatever strange fate lay ahead.
It felt like the world was slipping away, but his body remained motionless, caught in the grip of confusion and terror.
And in that moment, everything seemed to stop—time itself holding its breath.