Trinity of Magic

A few minutes later, Zeke arrived at the parlor. When he entered the room, he found that his core members were already present, and he immediately noticed the tension in the atmosphere.

Gravitas was sitting in a lounge chair, her eyes fixedly staring in one direction. Vulcanos was pacing around, circling the room like a shark. Ash was sitting close to their guest, his hand on the dagger at his waist. Kruul and Kraal were standing on either side of the door, ready to use their abilities if necessary. And finally, in the middle of the room, sat their guest—utterly unfazed by all the waryness, hostility, and caution directed toward him.

Zeke paused, his gaze drawn to their visitor. The Archmage possessed an otherworldly complexion, his skin as pure as freshly fallen snow, complemented by hair of a matching color. It was hard to determine his age as he was completely devoid of wrinkles or blemishes. An air of timelessness enveloped him, casting an aura of stagnation that set him apart from any other being Zeke had ever encountered.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Zeke had met one person who gave him a similar feeling to this stranger: Aurelia Thorsten, matriarch of the Thorsten family and guardian of Invocatia. Aurelia, renowned as the Eternal Witch due to her mastery of both Life and Death magic, bore a resemblance to the man standing before him. Though, compared to her, this Mage seemed even stranger.

The man was inspecting the tea served to him with a slight smile, turning the cup in his hand while studying the decorative golden engravings along its side. He didn’t seem interested in drinking it, as if the mere offer amused him.

Before Zeke could inspect him further, the man put the cup down on the low table before him and looked up. His abrupt action caused all the Chimeroi in the room to tense, but nobody moved. His eyes immediately found Zeke’s, ignoring everybody else. Their gazes remained intertwined for a long, breathless moment.

Zeke hadn’t noticed it before, but this man's eyes were one of his most disturbing features. They were devoid of any glimmer of life or emotion. Sightless orbs, seemingly staring into an unseen realm. They held an eerie stillness that sent a shiver down his spine, like the eyes of a dead man. However, the shock of his gaze paled in comparison to the word that came out of the man’s mouth.

“Ezekiel,” he greeted.

The eerie voice slithered through the air like a whisper from the realm of shadows, its haunting resonance a mixture between enchanting and sinister. Even so, Zeke wasn’t in the mood to pay attention to the strange quality of his voice. He was far too shocked by the name this stranger had called him. Not his alias, not his fake name, but his real name—Ezekiel.

“Who is that?” Zeke asked, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.

The stranger chuckled. It was a creepy sound, as if he had forgotten how to laugh and was now trying to remember how to make the appropriate noise. After his laughter ended, the man began to explain casually. “Ezekiel of Feldstadt, born in a tiny village in the heart of the Empire of Arkanheim, visited the Elementium, was adopted by Maximilian von Hohenheim, and was recently stripped of his name and title.”

Zeke frowned. This stranger knew quite a lot about him. If that was so, there was most likely no point in denying his identity any further. “How did you recognize me?”

The Death Mage smiled, evidently pleased with Zeke’s tacit admission. “You might have disguised yourself to the eyes of ordinary people, but my gaze is not so easily tricked.”

Zeke waited for him to continue, but the man didn’t explain further. He grimaced internally. He would have loved to learn about the method through which he had been found out so that he could correct it in the future. Even so, there was something much more important he needed to know. “What do you want from me?”

The man remained silent, stretching out what might have been just a moment into what felt like an eternity for Zeke. The tension in the room was palpable, as the outcome of the forthcoming words could potentially lead to conflict.

“No need to panic,” he said casually. “I want nothing from you.”

Those words didn’t manage to put Zeke’s mind at ease—just the opposite, in fact. If the man wanted nothing from him, then why did he come? Why did he reveal his identity? It was too suspicious. “If you want nothing, then why did you come here?”

The man glanced briefly at the full cup of tea before him, lost in thought. In those moments of stillness, his demeanor resembled that of a corpse, devoid of any movement. There was no discernible rise and fall of his chest, indicating that breathing was unnecessary for him. Under different circumstances, Zeke would have very much enjoyed studying the body of this Archmage in detail.

“I wanted to meet you once,” the man said eventually.

Zeke was taken aback. Of all the possible explanations swirling in his mind, this had not been one he had considered. "Me?" he asked, bewildered. "Why?"

The Death Mage chuckled again. “You are favored among my kind, young Ezekiel.”

“Your kind?” Zeke questioned. “Do you mean Death Mages?”

The man nodded.

Zeke pondered this new, weird information. He was favored among Death Mages? How could that be? Did they have a connection? No. He would have understood it more if a Druid had said something like that, but he couldn’t remember making any connection with a Death Mage.

“Who told you about me?” Zeke questioned.

Once again, the man lapsed into silence, a habit that seemed ingrained within him. Perhaps, for an entity seemingly beyond the constraints of mortality, time held a different meaning. Zeke couldn't shake the impression that it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for the Death Mage to contemplate for hours on end in such a manner.

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“That is not for me to share,” the man said finally. “But you will understand in the future.”

Zeke blinked, torn between irritation and curiosity in response to the ominous statement. Despite his desire to learn more, he couldn't shake the feeling that this man wouldn't divulge the information, no matter how much he probed. With that realization, a heavy silence settled over the room, both parties refraining from speaking further.

“So…” Zeke said eventually. “What now?”

The Death Mage tilted his head, seemingly unsure himself. “If you have no further questions, I will leave.”

Initially, Zeke felt a surge of relief at the man's words. The idea of bringing this tense meeting to a close seemed more than just a little tempting. However, his rational mind swiftly intervened, reminding him of the gravity of the situation. Despite the man's peculiar demeanor, he was one of the four leaders of Undercity: the Spectral Dominion. What was more, he seemed to have a favorable impression of Zeke for whatever reason.

Wasn’t this… a chance?

Zeke approached the lounge and gingerly sat down across from the Death Mage. He wouldn’t have dared to get this close initially, but the man didn’t seem to have any ill intentions. He should try to make a connection with this man now that he was here. “I would like to talk a bit more if that is ok?”

The Death Mage nodded.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Zeke started.

“Ohh, how impolite of me. My name is Moros.”

Zeke stretched out his hand for an official greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moros; I am Ezekiel.”

An expression of surprise briefly appeared on Moros’s face, but it soon returned to its emotionless state. He extended his arm and lightly shook hands. Despite the relaxed grip, Zeke almost jerked his hand away at the touch.

The Death Mage’s hand was cold, far colder than it had any right to be. But it wasn’t the same feeling as the cold of ice and snow, but a cold that burrowed into your bones and settled in your marrow. Using all his willpower, Zeke endured the eerie sensation until the man let go. Moros remained silent after the exchange, yet a peculiar glint flickered in his dark eyes.

Was this what Death Mana felt like? It was certainly unpleasant.

When Zeke managed to shake off the strange sensation, he pressed on with his questioning as if nothing had happened. “What is your goal here in Korrovan, Mr. Moros?” The man stared back at him with uncomprehending eyes. Zeke elaborated. “You are one of the most important figures here in Undercity. There has to be something you are after.”

Moros shook his head, denying the assumption. “This is a good place. That is the only reason I am here.”

Zeke blinked. “Yes?”

Moros nodded, a little more enthused than before. “After leaving the Deadlands, I have never come across a city so overflowing with death. It is a good place.”

Zeke grimaced, unsure of how to feel about Moros's statement. While he could understand how, from the perspective of a Death Mage, Undercity might seem like a treasure trove given the prevalence of death, it didn't sit well with him to see someone openly relishing the misery of others.

As expected, the Chimeroi in the room frowned collectively. Having grown up in this place, they naturally wouldn’t feel too good upon hearing such a statement. Even so, Moros was completely unbothered by their gazes.

“That is a very unusual perspective, Mr. Moros,” Zeke said diplomatically.

“Really?” the man asked, seemingly surprised. “I think it is quite normal to think like that.”

Zeke blinked in confusion. “It is… normal?”

Moros pointed directly at Zeke. "Blood Mages are drawn to bloodshed; they thrive in it, revel in it, and grow from it. Just as Life Mages are drawn to forests and Water Mages to oceans—it's inherent to their nature. So, why would it be strange for me to be attracted to a place so steeped in death?"

Zeke pondered those words, but Moros wasn’t done. “Mark my words, young friend: There is no worse mistake for a Mage than to reject their nature. Sooner or later, you will have to come to terms with what you are.”

Zeke nodded slowly, even though he wasn’t entirely sure he understood what the man was getting at. “I will keep your words in mind, Mr. Moros.”

Moros remained silent, seemingly content with this reassurance. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, deviating from what Zeke had been aiming for. Even so, he wasn’t too unhappy with the result. “Does that mean you have no ambitions in Undercity?”

“That is correct,” Moros agreed easily. “There isn’t much that can move me at this point.”

“Is there a special reason for that?”

Moros pondered for a while in his characteristic, motionless manner. “My body has few desires left. The only thing that can tempt me anymore is the pursuit of knowledge and personal power.”

For a moment, Zeke was tempted to exchange knowledge with the man. After all, he knew of many things that might be of interest to him. But he squashed the impulse in the next moment. It wasn’t wise to put too much trust in the character of this stranger. There was no telling what he would do after learning of the secret knowledge Zeke carried.

Instead, he tried to approach the situation from a different angle. “If I understand your intentions right, Mr. Moros, you want to be left alone to continue your research in peace?”

“That is correct,” Moros confirmed.

Zeke clenched his fists, gathering his resolve. This was the moment of truth. “Maybe we could come to an arrangement,” he offered.

Moros's expression didn’t even flicker, giving nothing away. “What kind of an arrangement did you have in mind, young friend.”

Zeke took a deep breath before stating his desire, “I want to rule over Undercity.”

If the announcement had any effect on Moros, he didn't show it. However, the reaction from the Chimeroi was anything but subtle. They stared at Zeke with open-mouthed amazement and no small amount of disbelief.

Their reaction wasn’t all that surprising. After all, this was the first time Zeke had spoken about having such ambitions. The reason for that was simple: he had considered it impossible until now. With three formidable adversaries standing against him, victory seemed out of reach. However, aligning with the Death Mage could potentially tip the scales in his favor.

Moros hummed noncommittally. “It is good that you have ambitions, but I fail to see what this has to do with me.”

Zeke clasped his hands, meeting the eerie gaze of the Death Mage head-on. “I might need to borrow your strength. In return, I promise to ensure your peace and provide for your needs for as long as you want.”

Moros remained silent, but his eyes wandered, scanning all the Chimeroi present. Zeke even had the feeling that Moros could perceive individuals in adjacent rooms. He idly wondered how far the man’s sight reached and on what principles it operated.

“I don’t think you have the strength to achieve your goals, young friend,” he said after a while. “Both of the other two forces have more strength than you individually, and I am not interested in a deal where I would have to fight your battles for you.”

Zeke nodded, having expected something like that. Even so, he was still confident in convincing the Archmage. “I don’t intend to conquer Undercity by force.”

Moros returned his sightless eyes to him, and Zeke could have sworn he saw a bit of intrigue flashing in their depths. “Then, what is your plan?”

Zeke put on a crafty smile. “How about this, Mr. Moros. If you stay here for a while, I’ll show you…”