I awoke late one morning, still feeling tired after another long night's session of properly preserving poisons and spell components. Master Dagg was an excellent teacher, but he almost always overwhelmed me with an incredible amount of information to retain in one night. He would often argue that ‘repetitiveness was what teaches the mind conformity,’ and his words eventually held true after putting me through weeks — months of repetitive and monotonous lessons. While I was not considered a full-fledged arcanist like Master Dagg, I became confident enough in my own skills and knowledge of the Art.
I crawled out of bed and trudged sleepily through the caverns which were still quiet at that hour. I assumed Master Dagg had gone out again. It seemed common for him to set out during the early morning hours to tend to his daily errands, which consisted primarily of restocking supplies for his laboratory.
Master Dagg eventually trusted me enough to leave me alone in his home, well-aware of the risks of his beloved laboratory being used without his permission. Perhaps some other greedy fool might have fallen into such a tempting, but obvious trap; however, I knew better than to dabble into that which I did not fully understand. Master Dagg also allowed me to leave the cave at will, but I was not allowed to go beyond the swamps. A constant overcast loomed in the skies above, shrouding the misty swamps in a blanket of grey shadows.
My mornings generally began with a good hunt. Over the months, I became more proficient in my hunting after studying and mimicking Master Dagg's methods. For a man his size, Master Dagg moved more graceful than a feline. It was apparent that his ability to hunt was innate. Though, I was nowhere near as good of a hunter as he, I was still able to catch enough food to sustain me for the day.
The swamps were always flowing with abundant marine life; the only other signs of life I ever saw. How ironic it was that this small pocket of wetland was cherished by someone so proficient in the Art of death and undeath.
Breakfast today was light, consisting of a weak catch of two small minnows that didn't make much of a dent in my belly's hunger. When I finished, I traversed through the wetlands, allowing my mind to wander. I meditated on the peaceful sounds of the swamps, which invigorated my spirits. This place possessed a hidden beauty of its own — it was no wonder Master Dagg had chosen it to claim as his territory. The swamps were so far from civilization that it was unlikely anyone would think to find him here.
… Or so I thought …
My subconscious snapped back to reality at the faintest sounds of footsteps sloshing through the murky waters. At first, I thought it was Master Dagg, but the movements sounded too slow and full of hesitation, as though the intruder was unsure of their destination. My eyes scanned the immediate area, finally resting on the silhouette of a figure several meters away. The figure sported a human male's build and walked as such.
I stood with a wary feeling in the back of my mind as I watched him approach. “Is he … really alive?” I whispered aloud in disbelief.
I could not recall the last time I had seen another humanoid creature that was not already a corpse. I doubted Master Dagg had received many visitors out here — nor did I think he would have been very pleased to find one here while he was still away. I licked my dry lips as I struggled with the urge to warn the stranger to turn back, but he spoke first upon noticing me.
“Miss! What are you doing out here in these treacherous lands?!” the man called out, his regal-sounding voice tinged with genuine concern.
I narrowed my eyes at the stranger suspiciously. “N-No,” I stammered, “I … I must be seeing things. You are not really here. This is all my imagination.”
The man tilted his head curiously at my response before hastening his steps towards me through the shallow, murky swamp waters and finally stood before me.
I lowered my head and ended up staring down at two, steel-plated boots. Perhaps, I am not delirious, after all, I thought. My snow-white hair covered the pale, malnourished features of my face, as I remained silent.
“Are you all right, Miss?” he asked in a soft tone. He waited a few moments before finally placing his gauntlet-covered hand on my shoulder gently.
I immediately tensed at his icy touch. Beneath the layer of care and concern that the man sported, something about him unnerved me. After some hesitation, I slowly raised my eyes to meet his. I gazed upon a man donned in exuberant armor branded with the city of Lakis's emblem. His emerald eyes reflected a mix of concern and curiosity.
“Miss? Are you hurt? Can you understand my words?” he inquired again, looking at me closely.
I averted my gaze around the rest of the swamps, fearing that Master Dagg would suddenly return and catch me associating myself with an outsider. I wanted to run, but doing so would risk the stranger discovering Master Dagg's hidden home.
Turning back to him, I sighed deeply and nodded in response. “I am fine,” I said morbidly. “Please, leave.”
He raised a thin, ebony brow and reluctantly lifted his hand from my shoulder. “Leave you? In these swamps? You must be mad. You are lucky to have not been eaten by that accursed creature that lurks in the area.”
His comment sparked my curiosity. “What creature do you speak of?”
He looked around the swamps briefly before returning his attention to me and lowering his voice. “It is a Dragon — a terrible, black Dragon with the face of a skull, to be exact — and he is the very cause of this dreaded blight that our beloved country has been forced to endure for many months.”
My eyes widened slightly at the mention of a Dragon, then stared at the stranger in disbelief.
“Surely, you jest,” a small, amused smile hinted across my lips. “Dragons are such rare and elusive creatures. I have not heard news of any sightings since I began residing here. I assure you, Sir, there are no Dragons here — only fish.” I emphasized the point further by gesturing to the small schools of tiny fish that swam around his ankles.
He glanced down at the fish briefly then regarded me once more with a hint of a smile. “Allow me to make your acquaintance, Miss. I am Banin Solanum, leader of the Hemlock Hunters of Lakis. We've been tracking down a certain Shadow Dragon necromancer for several months, now. Alas, our travels have finally led us out here into these swampy lands. He is responsible for the deaths of many men, women and children, and his necromantic arts are the very source of this never-ending blight that has plagued our country. Undead and other anomalies have been spotted around here on a daily basis since the Dragon took up residence a few months before the blight began.” He paused to acknowledge my shocked reaction, and then continued. “Please, believe me when I tell you that your life is in danger the longer you remain out here. He holds no remorse for the living and only seeks to use the Forbidden Arts to make these lands forever suffer for his own twisted amusement.”
I continued to stare at Banin in surprise and ignored his concerned tone. The man's unnerving vibes made me skeptical of any integrity his words might have held. Frowning, I stepped back away from him and began heading farther into the swampy lands. For Master Dagg's sake, I felt inclined to keep his sanctuary a secret from the likes of this man.
Banin watched me back away and he extended both hands out to me in a calm, reassuring gesture. “Please, do not run, Miss. I am only here to help you. I will take you back to Lakis where you will have access to food and accommodations. Will you at least tell me your name?”
As I continued watching him cautiously, I took a few more steps back. “No,” I retorted, “I will not. Go away! Leave this place and never return!”
As he advanced, I turned and hastened my steps into the voids of the wetlands.
For a few minutes, he gave chase, calling for me to stop. He nearly caught up with me at one point, but the heavy armor he wore soon induced fatigue in his body. Out of breath, Banin finally slowed to a halt and watched me disappear into the unknown lands of the swamps.
I ran to a tree and hid behind its wide trunk, then peeked out towards where I left Banin, who was now but a small dot in the distance. He eventually left the swamps and I waited a few minutes longer to ensure that he was gone for good before quickly heading back to the cave.
I went to the laboratory where I remained, looking for something — anything to keep me busy. Master Dagg returned not long after, carrying two bags full of new supplies.
Briefly glancing up from my notebook, I noticed the stern, yet calculating expression Master Dagg gave me in return. His gaze was more than enough to affirm that he knew something was troubling me. Strangely, however, he did not confront me about it. Instead, he simply began unloading one of the bags of supplies.
For several minutes, I felt the tension build in the room as I resumed my ‘reading,’ hoping Master Dagg would not question my motives.
When he finished unloading and rearranging his new supplies, he moved towards the large wooden table where I sat. Standing behind my chair, he peered over my shoulder, curious to see what I had been staring at for so long.
“You have been reading that same page for several minutes,” he hissed. “Is such a simple picture of an oak leaf too advanced for your little human mind to comprehend?”
I knew the question was rhetorical, and thus, pursed my lips in thought, trying to find the words to explain all that transpired earlier. Finally, I shut the book and turned to him, my head still lowered shamefully as I was expecting some sort of heinous punishment to follow afterwards.
“You had a visitor today….” My voice was soft and meek, remaining submissive to his powerful aura. “While I was out hunting, a man came with the intent to take me away and find and kill a Dragon of sorts for its many crimes. I did not lead him to the cave, but he had treaded dangerously close. I'm unsure if he is aware of the hidden entrance, yet.” I looked at him nervously.
“Banin,” Master Dagg promptly growled in annoyance, as if recalling some past memories of his own. “I know all about him. He and his band of idiots intend to kill me for a crime I am not responsible for. I am an arcanist — ”
“ — You are a necromancer,” I suddenly corrected. My eyes looked up to him, coming to some realizations of my own. The next thing I saw was his hand coming towards my face and the feeling of sharp pains in my cheek.
“Do not correct me again, you foolish girl,” he growled warningly, “or I will sever that tongue of yours.”
I shivered and rubbed my red, stinging cheek. Looking to the floor, I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. “F — Forgive me, Master Dagg,” I said apologetically. “I did not mean it as an insult. It's just that you work with the dead on a daily basis. You are a master of the art of death.”
“‘Necromancy’ is a term coined by those who do not understand nor appreciate the true beauty of the Art,” he explained. “You would do well to remember that, Jasmine; else, I will find other, more creative ways of reminding you.”
I cringed. “That … That will not be necessary.”
His demeanor suddenly changed to a more calm state as he pulled away from me to resume unpacking the other supply bag. “Good, because I would hate to have to destroy a perfectly-good test subject due to insolence. It has been over three months since I rescued you from your impending doom.” He paused and shot me a brief, warning gaze. “Do not make me regret my decision.”
I nodded slowly, not looking up from the floor. Master Dagg made me into the person I was and thus, had the power to also break me whenever he wished. I was sealed in this debt, not knowing for how long I would remain bound to him. My mind continuously went over the earlier meeting with Banin and I slowly lifted my eyes towards Master Dagg.
“May I ask you something?” I asked in a meek voice.
He casually pulled out a covered jar from the bag and met my gaze. “Yes?”
I swallowed, trying to piece together the right words to say. “How do you … justify your residence here and the death-inducing blight?”
Master Dagg simply smiled his set of sharp fangs at me, which made him appear more frightening than comforting. “Is that what he told you? That I am some evil creature who is responsible for this blight? Is that what your feeble little mind has been manipulated to believe?”
My eyes gazed suspiciously at him. “It's what I know about you.”
“You know nothing about me except what little you've seen and have been told,” he scoffed.
I fell silent. Perhaps he might have been lying to me all this time, but I had my doubts. I could sense that deep feeling of passion in his eyes whenever he was drawn into his work. His love for the Necromantic Arts was without question.
“Tell me this, then,” I finally said. “Are you really a Dragon?”
The smile remained plastered on his face and his eyes regarded me with mild amusement. “Do you think I am?”
“Banin spoke of a black Dragon that resides in the swamps. I don't want to ‘think’ you are that Dragon or not. I want to know the facts.”
“Do you, now? Interesting, you certainly did not feel this way moments ago when you were so quick to believe what you wanted and take it as fact.”
I sighed in exasperation of his sharp mind — and an even sharper tongue — and finally threw my hands up in frustration. “All right, I'm sorry for misconstruing you, Master Dagg. I wish to know the truth about you. I wish to know why Banin is hunting a Dragon. I wish to know the source of this blight.”
“More questions,” he laughed and simply turned to place the covered jar on a shelf with several others. “Banin is a vile man bent on ignorance. His hatred for me spurs from mere assumptions and misunderstandings. He's become more of a thorn in my side than anything else. Like most slayers, he believes the Dragons are the bane of existence and the cause of the world's sufferings. He would love nothing more than to be rid of our kind once and for all. While I'm not a religious man, even I know that it is against the Goddess Celestra's will to harm our race in any manner. I practice the … ‘Forbidden Arts’ — as ignorant humans tend to more elegantly associate ‘Necromancy’ — for my own knowledge and understanding. I have no intentions or desires to abuse what I consider a ‘hauntingly beautiful’ art.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. “So … You are really the Dragon he is hunting?”
“Indeed, I am,” he replied simply. Once he had finished rearranging his supplies, he began traversing the laboratory, gathering stray books.
I frowned, watching him. “Yet, you appear to be human …” When he passed by, I handed him the notebook I was ‘reading’ earlier.
He snatched it from me and smiled shrewdly. “Our kind possesses the ability to shape-shift into other forms at will.” After gathering the rest of the books, he went to the bookshelf and began arranging them one by one. “You ask many questions that you already know the answers to,” he continued, his back turned to me while he worked, “yet, you fail to ask the most obvious one.”
My eyes widened slightly in surprise. The questions I did ask were merely based on assumptions and doubts, but I sought to justify their credibility. Master Dagg's comment only further reminded me of just how closely-linked he and I had become over the past few months of my apprenticeship.
“What do you hope to understand from working with the dead?” I finally asked again after taking a few moments to think on his words.
His smile widened slightly, as though my latter question had been the very one he was waiting for me to ask. “Despite my physical appearance, I am very old beyond my years, Jasmine. When a Dragon dies, they pass through what is called the Twilight stage — the stage in which their body returns to the goddess Celestra, their creator. There is still so much in this world I have yet to experience and I wish to preserve my life just a little longer. Life Preservation is something believed that only the gods themselves are capable of, but my studies of the dead and undead have opened up new discoveries of this notion. I feel as though I am so close to perfecting this. Now that you have come, it is all but a matter of time.”
I nodded slowly, trying to make some sense of his reasoning. “Are you trying to become a god, yourself?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Master Dagg chuckled darkly. “No, My Dear, though, it would be nice, wouldn't it?”
“Then, are you simply trying to live longer than most Dragons?” I tilted my head to the side.
He approached me and leaned against the edge of the table, looking thoughtful. “I care not about what the other Dragons do,” he said. “My issues are my own. That is my prerogative.”
The notion of having such god-like abilities nearly frightened me. What would become of the world should someone as sinister as Master Dagg acquire such malefic power? I thought.
“Now that you know my secret, I guess I will have to kill you, hmm?” he said jokingly, though I could hear the slight seriousness in his tone of voice which was more of a warning gesture towards me.
I swallowed nervously. “N … No, you don't need to do that. I will not tell anyone of this, I swear.”
“Good,” he paused and his gaze hardened as though struck with a new thought. “Banin did not see you come in here, did he?”
“No! Of course, not!” I answered promptly. “I remained elsewhere around the swamps until he left, but I think he knows you reside somewhere in the area.”
Another annoyed hiss escaped his lips. He picked up a stray beaker containing dark blue fluid and examined it. “There is one thing I truly hate about slayers,” he began, “and that is the fact that they are persistent. If he wants to deal with a necromancer, then I will send forth an army of zombified harpies for his pleasure.”
I blinked at his words, thinking that he was merely jesting at first, but the stern look in his eyes told me otherwise.
He carefully covered the beaker, walked over to one of the bookshelves and placed it in a secure spot on the top shelf. As he prepared to leave, he glanced back at me.
“I need you to separate three milliliters of vampiric blood into those small vials there,” he instructed as he gestured to the far end of the table where four, small, empty vials and two larger ones filled with a dark crimson liquid were sitting. “Afterwards, they need to be heated to 270 degrees until the curdles form. Separate the curdles and place them into one of the glass jars on the shelf.” He then added in a warning tone, “Do be certain to finish this before I return.”
I looked at the vials for a moment, then back to him. While the task didn't sound too complex, I had recalled watching him do the very same before. It was a process which required extra precision and care due to the nature of certain vampiric blood being acidic when heated to extreme temperatures and could literally eat away at whatever it came in contact with. I nodded slowly to Master Dagg in confirmation and turned to begin working when another thought crossed my mind.
“Master Dagg, may I ask you one last thing?” I looked at him.
Another annoyed sigh was heard and he turned back around. “Yes? What is it …?”
“What is the true cause of the blight upon our lands?”
He took a moment to think on the question before finally crossing his arms. “The cause of the ‘blight’ is of the gods' choosing. There is no Dragon; no evil monster; and no wicked, wild magic causing this. It is the natural lifecycle of the world. The very same has happened since the dawn of civilization and it will happen again in the future. The world suffers, only to recover once more. That is how the balance between life and death is maintained. The minds of lesser creatures are so feeble that they will believe just about anything due to fear. They fear what they do not understand. That is why Banin and all the other wretched Dragon-slayers in the world are foolish in their ways, believing in such ridiculous notions and superstitions. Soon, however, they will see the errs in their ways.”
I felt skeptical about the matter. Master Dagg made it all sound so simple, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that the continuous ceasing of life in our country was solely a natural occurrence.
“Is it … natural to be amongst the only forms of life out here in the swamps?” I asked. “Is it natural to not encounter anyone or anything else from the outside world for so long?”
“The swamps are not a place that most humans would care to visit on a regular basis,” he replied. “My reason for being here is to get away from life so that I can focus on death.” He paused, reviewing the confused expression on my face and huffed. “Believe what you will, Jasmine. Your mind is fragile and naive like the rest of them. I speak from centuries of experience. If the words of this old Dragon mean so little to you, then I will not waste my breath trying to convince you otherwise.”
Before I could reply, he stormed out of the laboratory in a huff, leaving me to continue my work in silence. However, my mind never ceased its racing thoughts.
If Master Dagg came here to escape life, then am I truly dead?