Withering Ambition

Unholy Continuation

Goldor's vision began to fade as Kaeman's solemn expression peered into his soul. He had lost a battle. But to a worthy opponent. He was satisfied with the outcome, but he only wished that he could now learn from Kaeman, to become stronger.

Each breath was laborious as he felt blood seeping into his chest cavity. These were his last moments. And then, everything stopped. No more air flowed through his lungs, his heart rested for the final time. But alas, he was... still here? How could this be? Was there truly life after death?

As he began to close his eyes, time seemed to flow differently. He took in his surroundings. A castle hallway, to his right, Kaeman walked slowly away from his body, turning back, perhaps to mourn the passing of such a strong warrior. 

His eyes closed, and the back of his eyelids began to glow a faint purple, and his ears felt red hot. 

"Goldor..."

Who was there? He couldn't speak, nor move. But then, his eyes opened. Darting his pupils around to survey the situation, a horrifying picture began to emerge. His arms crossed over his chest, holding his greatsword against his body. He wore shining armor, and the muscles beneath felt stiff and brittle. 

This must have been what he wore to his own funeral. He had surely been honored. But what was happening... now? Why could he see? Slowly, his eyes focused upwards, and more was revealed to him. 

He lay inside a crypt, and it was evident it had been there for years. But... why was there light? Why could he see? He tried to move his head, and with a stiff crack, the muscles in his neck reengaged. He tried to scream out in pain, but his lips held firm. Looking up, he finally saw it.

Dark, dark magic. A terrifying beast. Three heads, no skin. It spoke to him in a familiar voice.

"Goldor, I did promise you. You will have a chance to serve me. And that chance is upon us both."

It was Kaeman. What had become of him? Once again Goldor attempted to speak, but alas, he failed. Dark chains of magic lifted his body off of the ground, turning him towards Kaeman.

"Now Goldor, with a warrior of your caliber, I know you will get through this. But your muscles must be reactivated. Rigor mortis has not been kind to you, my friend."

Pain shot through Goldor's body as he lifted his leg to step out of his coffin. Fiery, fiery pain. But he could feel his strength returning to him. Straining his face, he stepped fully out of his coffin and stood to his full height. 

With this greater view of the situation, he saw a previously hidden figure, who now stared upwards in awe at his stature. 

"This, Goldor, is Necron. Without him, I would remain trapped in my imprisonment. And by extension, you would too."

Goldor smiled painfully and held out his hand. Necron had to bring his hand over his head to shake his hand, and as such Goldor kneeled down for ease. 

"I thank you, young Necron. For allowing me to serve... the strongest side."