He continued, speaking as much to the book as to himself. "A part of me wants to say that I won''t stop until I kill Selene and burn her followers to ash." A brief vision of his old companion''s corpse lying at his feet flashed through his mind. He smiled at the thought. "And I''d like to say that I''d track down the Thirteen and the Seven and take from them everything that should be mine." He imagined the Thirteen, the true children of the Dark One, kneeling before him as he sat on a great throne, the other members of the seven serving him once again as he looked down upon the true children of the Dark Lord. "I can definitely say that I feel the urge to slay the hero and take the kingdom of Saern." His blood boiled thinking about her.


    "But a thought occurred to me when I slept: how much of how I feel is me, and how much of me is the Dark Lord?" He wondered aloud. "Were all of my past actions mine to choose? Was I actually the master of my fate?" The concepts of power, and revenge, and dominance had always felt so natural to him. He had never questioned them. Yet he wondered: how much of these feelings were truly his? How much of him, if anything, was Abad-Shai? "I''d like to say a lot of things... but I don''t know how I feel anymore. I don''t know what to do."


    He could see Angra tense as he spoke. She had never heard him be unsure.


    "Finally, the little orphan boy speaks with honesty," said the book as it stared at him. "So, what do you plan to do when faced with such uncertainty?" the book asked in a voice filled with anticipation.


    "I—I don''t know."


    "You do know. You just won''t admit it yet."


    "I suppose I need to find my place in the world. I know nothing about the world now, so it''s impossible to make firm goals. I want to experience it, though, and see what there is to see. And to do that, I need to be strong." He spoke with more confidence than he had felt in some time. "The goddess''s world will never accept us. To carve a space out for my existence, I have to have power. To see it all, I have to be strong." He thought for a moment longer, then added, "and I want my stuff back."


    His scroll appeared in the air, and three entries burned themselves onto quests section of the translucent page:


    <hr><hr>


    [Walk a Thousand Miles]: You have lost your sense of purpose, and the world is now a mystery to you. Travel the land and discover your path.


    [Power Lost, Power Gained]: You have lost your former power. Regain your former glory, that you may reclaim your place in this world.


    [Finders Keepers]: Your personal belongings have been stolen. Of them, your cloak, your scepter, and your spellbook are most precious to you. Take them back.


    <hr><hr>


    "Power for its own sake is a worthy goal, young one, and the desire to see more, to take stock before acting, is wise." The book frowned. "And the goddess''s system, abominable as it is, agrees." The grimoire''s words echoed with power. "The world has changed much since you left it. Perhaps we should go see it. Then, we will discuss your plans once our travels are complete."


    "You... will help?" Abad was surprised.


    "But of course." It''s horrible smile grew large. "It is what my creator would have wished."


    "Your price?" He''d known Aughra well enough to know her creation would expect payment.


    The book snapped shut. "For now? Nothing. In time, once you have traveled enough, I shall tell you what I desire." The book''s chain locked the cover shut once again. "Now, you will take me to the grand hall. I wish to see the death the little one wreaked upon those who entered here." With its final word, it flopped onto the ground, face up.


    Abad reached down to pick up the old book. For a moment, he stood there, considering it in his palm. It''s presence felt almost reassuring somehow, like an echo of the past returned to him. However, after what he experienced earlier, he knew he needed to be careful with the tome.


    He turned his attention back towards the ruined room.


    "Filthy book. I wish we didn''t need it." Angra growled as she alighted on his shoulder, crossing her legs as they dangled down his chest.


    "I''m not so sure, Angra. I think that maybe my old master may have seen a little further than I could." He looked over at her, noticing that she had started twirling his long black hair between her claws, her brows knitted in thought. Her forehead was bruised and bloodied, and one of her eye sockets was growing dark. She had taken the brunt of the book''s anger because of him.


    That''s when he noticed that odd feeling again. His heart ached for her, and he didn''t know why. It was a familiar''s place to serve their master, to bleed for them, to die if need be. Why did he care?


    He reached over and placed his hand on her head, his thumb over the broken skin on her forehead. Her eyes asked what he was doing. He had never considered her needs in the past. It was always expected that she serve. She was confused.


    "Be still, Angra." He closed his eyes and concentrated.


    He let his awareness sink down into himself, deep into the darkness within. He felt for the boundaries of his spirit, which he soon found. They were far closer than he remembered. Then, he let his essence bleed out from his spiritual body into the darkness beyond. Here, he could feel how much he lost. There were many gaps in his memories, devoured by the void. The world between worlds claimed so much of him when he drifted between life and death. Being back in that place, he could intimately feel the holes in himself. He willed himself to remember, sinking his mind down, down, into that dark, empty space, searching for any fragments of himself that still remained.


    He could feel it. He could feel the void all around him. He could sense his lost memories and the fragments of power, but each was at the very edge of his awareness. They were unreachable now, but he could sense them, like shadows in the corner of his eye. He tried to call upon his lost memories. He waited, hoping that something of his former self would come back to him... Nothing did.


    The little imp shifted under his hand. "Master?" Her voice was soft. Her little hands reached up and grabbed him, gripping his fingers softly.


    He looked into her golden eyes. Something in them made him question his assumptions about her. He had always assumed the creature—no, the woman—had obeyed him as a consequence of the compulsions woven into her by the enchantment that summoned her. He had only ever seen her as an extension of himself before, a tool to be used at his pleasure. And while he treated his tools well, sometimes grew attached to them when they worked efficiently, they were still tools.


    "Master..." She shuffled under his hand. "This is embarrassing..."


    But in that moment, all he could see in her eyes was devotion. A realization came to him. She served not because she had to but because she wanted to. Over the many years he had been stuck between life and death, she could have escaped, found her own path, discovered a way to free herself of their bond. But she didn''t. She stayed with him all these long years because she wanted to. And he would repay her kindness with kindness.


    He felt something burn inside of him as his scroll unfurled.


    <hr><hr>


    [If You Only Had a Heart]: Through the ashes of your former glory, you have found a new source of power: compassion. By opening yourself to another''s suffering, you gain the ability to both give and take the essence that binds all living things.


    You learn the [Essence Transfer] Warlock spell.


    [Essence Transfer] (1st Circle, Active, Cost ?+?/?): The user can transfer a small amount of health or mana to or from a willing target.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Parent Category still [Locked].


    <hr><hr>


    His hand began to glow red as his life force flowed from him to her. He wavered as his energy bled out, restoring his little familiar to full health. His vision darkened, and he felt himself stumble as a portion of his life force left his spirit and entered hers. He didn''t realize how little he had to give. He had overdone it.


    "Master!" The familiar leaped up to catch him as he fell backward. Her little wings flapped furiously to catch him in mid air. She grunted under his weight, straining until he could brace himself.


    "Thank you, Angra." His voice sounded hollow. He was exhausted.


    "What did you..." She landed on the ground and furled her wings. Tentatively, she reached up and touched her head, then squeaked.


    He smiled as she realized what he had done.


    "You... you didn''t... you shouldn''t... you idiot." Her red cheeks grew darker, and she shuffled.


    "You got injured because of me. It''s only fair." He patted her head.


    "... You stupid idiot. It''s my job to take care of you..."


    "It''s okay. We can break the rules this time."


    She seemed like she wanted to say more but didn''t.


    Taking a final look around his old library, he gave himself a moment to collect himself. Then, turning on his heel, he walked out, but instead of heading back to the great hall, he turned left and marched down the hallway.


    "I have one more place to look before we leave. Book, please be patient a while longer." The old book didn''t speak or move, which he hoped was a good sign.


    ***


    His steps echoed down the wide hallway, doors passing by on either side. He had explored half of the rooms before he gave up earlier. Each was ruined. He desperately hoped that his own quarters were still intact. He didn''t have it in him to explore them before, but now it was time.


    He continued forward until he reached a large stone wall with doorways on either side. Reaching his hand out, he pressed into the center of the wall. The stone shifted, bending and warping until two large wooden double doors appeared. Stuck onto the left door was a dagger, a note pinned to the door by its tip. His heart dropped.


    Abad reached out and pulled the knife from the door. Pulling the note off, he unfolded it, ran his fingers along the page, feeling the writing on the page. "Book, might you be willing to lend me a spell? I can''t cast light spells anymore and also can''t read in the dark."


    The book was quiet a moment, then grumbled. A moment later, a ghostly candle appeared in the air in front of him. His eyes scanned the page.


    <hr>


    Dearest Abad-Shai, Lord of the Vault.


    It was with the heaviest of hearts that I received news of your passing. To the divine hero, no less. I don''t envy you, my dear friend. Word has it you were nearly cut to pieces! When I tell you that I wept for hours, I mean it. It is not often that I cry. It''s not in our nature. You should be honored.


    After the horrible emotions passed and with a clearer mind, I realized something. You would never wish for your belongings to rot away in the dark, forgotten to time. I hope you''ll forgive me for assuming, but I felt like you would have wished for your dearest companion in our little band of malcontents to have all that you left behind.


    Thus, I made it happen.


    Do not worry, my friend. My life is now wondrous as a consequence of your most generous of donations. I live in a manor. I have all kinds of servants. I even have a dog—me, of all people! Who would have thought I''d have a pet after all the things I''ve done?


    Of course, I will eventually have to move to a new city, or country, or whatever. But, with the money you''ve provided to me, I will weather these challenges well. Thank you again, dear friend.


    Not all of us are gifted with the ability to disguise ourselves as you do, and while my corruption is entirely internal, unlike our brethren and even you, I still have an unaging body. And, unlike you, I was born to a human mother and father. I do not get the gift of longevity as an excuse as you do.


    Thus, I suppose by the time you read this letter, I will be far, far away. Likely a good thing, knowing your temper. However, please, let me explain my thoughts before you hunt me down. I''d rather you understand how we got here.


    I did, in fact, believe you to be dead. Thus, after thirty years (well done hiding your vault, sir!), I breached your lovely vault with a band of useful idiots, and we took everything we could. Having been there many times, I knew where your most potent enchantment lie, making it possible for me to disable them. Most of them, at least. After several trips, your vault was nearly empty. With you not present and Angra not there, I assumed you were truly gone.


    That is, until my men started dying.


    Your little pet (hi Angra!) is quite resourceful. I have to admit. I neither sensed nor saw her.


    However, while weak, my men were loyal, and they died for their loyalty. No great loss, but still frustrating. It took me a week to get new ones. But in realizing that she was still on this plane, I realized you were still alive. Or something like it. How my cold heart quivered at the thought!


    Thus, I set up one final expedition. I gathered a group of weaklings and guided them to your empty vault. The night before we arrived, I even snuck away. See, I was determined to leave this letter for you, along with a little gift in your room beyond. Never say I didn''t think of your needs, dearest.


    I don''t know what your little pet has planned for tomorrow, but I''m sure it will be marvelous. I saw several things had changed since I was last here. I''m sure the idiots I brought here will fall right into the rather obvious traps.


    So please, enjoy the snack. Their essence will be a bit bland, them being so weak and common and all, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. May it help you recover.


    When you awake, I pray that you think of me. While my real brothers never let me play in their bed when I was a girl, I was always grateful that you never deprived me of the fun as a woman. You will forever be the man who provided me the power I obtained in life, much entertainment, and my newfound life of luxury. For that, I am eternally grateful.


    With love and gratitude,


    Selene.


    <hr>


    She even ended the letter with a lipstick kiss.


    Angra''s entire body shook on his shoulder at she read the words with him. "Bitch," she hissed, her eyes glowing bright enough to illuminate the door. "I''ll kill her."


    "Yes, she really is." Abad answered back. He folded the note and placed it in his sack. His mind roiled.


    "I want to consume her essence, master. You can have most of it, though! You''d be as strong as before, and the world would be rid of that rotten whore." Angra giggled as he pulled the doors open.


    Abad stepped into his old bedroom. Everything was mostly how he kept it, except all of the drawers were open and empty. The bed was still made, though the sheets were rotten. The walls were lined with hooks and racks and displays, but everything that belonged to him had been stolen. However, he could feel some presence coming from the bed, something that weighed down the sheets, but it was invisible.


    "Shut the door behind you." The book demanded, sending Abad scrambling to comply.


    [Produce Flame]


    A wave of magic flowed from the book into the room as the candles lining the walls lit themselves, bringing warm light to the space. And then the book began laughing. "I remember this place. You used to read me here."


    "That I did." A faint smile appeared on his face as he recalled those old memories. He wasn''t exactly a sentimental man, but nostalgia was a curious thing, filling him with unexpected warmth. "Now, show me what is hidden here."


    [Dispel Magic]


    A light appeared in the air around them, causing the air to shimmer. The hidden thing slowly revealed itself. On the bed rested a skeleton, its arms and legs shackled to the four posts, wearing nothing but tatters. From its shape and size, he knew that Selene had bound a female mortal to his bed. His senses told him the corpse still had some essence left in it. There was barely any left, but even the slightest bit of nourishment sounded delicious.


    Placing his hand on the corpse''s skeletal leg, he closed his eyes, focusing. He had to search deeply, as the spark of vitality had nearly expired. Eventually, he found it. It was weak, faint, barely a whisper in the vastness of the universe, yet it was there. "Come here, my meal. Give up what little remains in you and grant me sustenance."


    [Essence Transfer]


    A soft red glow emanated from his hand and flowed out into the corpse. Motes of red began to seep out from every crack in the dusty old bones. He could feel himself become more nourished, and as he did, the skeleton shrank inward, losing mass until only dust remained. When he removed his hand, he licked his lips in satisfaction.


    His scroll unfurled, and flaming words burned on the page.


    <hr><hr>


    [Consume the Pain] (Warlock, Quest): You have found the remnants of a tortured soul—its body chained to a bed, its empty eyes seeming to plead for release. The corpses suffering lingers, trapped in the essence that lingers in its old bones. By consuming it, you grow stronger.


    You unlock the [Blood Magic] Warlock skill.


    [Blood Magic] (Passive): Your life force fuels your magic, allowing you to cast additional spells at the cost of health. You can learn spells that draw on blood and life energy to strengthen your casting.


    You reach level V


    <hr><hr>


    As he waited for the feeling of invigoration to settle within him, he looked around the room. His desk''s drawer was slightly ajar. He could just make out an object inside. Standing, he walked to the desk and opened the drawer.