The Mask of the Necromancer

☠ CHAPTER 11 ☠

Therro embodies the eerie essence of a ghost town, aligning with the mental image one conjures when envisioning such desolate and abandoned places. The profound stillness pervades the surroundings, creating an inexplicable sense of emptiness. It's akin to navigating an alternate realm, wandering amidst shadows and remnants of a landscape that should no longer exist.

Describing the soil or the vegetation proves challenging due to the persistent fog, a unique quality specific to the location rather than a climatic issue. The constant mist hinders a comprehensive analysis, rendering me unable to confirm textures, temperatures, or smells, further complicating my understanding of the area.

Amidst the fog, faint silhouettes of low buildings intermittently emerge. These dark, blurry figures materialize fleetingly, visible only through intentional focus. As I actively search for answers and clues, Therro unfolds like a mysterious canvas, leaving me intrigued and yearning for more information.

I envision scenarios where crimes could be committed unnoticed, corpses concealed a mere feet away, betrayed only by their lingering aroma. This place clearly provides refuge for necromancers and other sorcerers who escape the law in this secluded haven.

Silently, Dhael guides us into a narrow alley, the sudden darkness accentuating its confined nature. As we traverse the passage, the fog thins slightly, revealing a dark brick wall only a couple inches from me. Dhael urges haste, whispering instructions in the deep silence, prompting me to comply without questioning, sensing a precautionary motive.

Exiting the alley, we find ourselves in an expansive open space, navigating turns without cardinal point references. The nocturnal darkness compounds my disorientation. I speculate that daylight, despite the persistent fog, might offer a clearer understanding of the town's layout.

Distances become elusive, making it nearly impossible to gauge dimensions. Eventually, the necromancer halts near a metal gate, the sound of its opening reverberating. We enter a property and keep walking, still outdoors, guided by Dhael's cautious steps.

Almost a minute pass before we reach a wooden door. Dhael secures the area with a quick glance and shows me the silhouette of an old, dilapidated building.

We get in.

The main room, shrouded in dust, boasts furniture worn by neglect. The fog outside doesn't penetrate the room, creating a refuge from the unsettling phenomena.

Inquisitive, I question the nature of our location, to which Dhael confidently responds that we're in Therro. It's not his permanent residence, but it serves as a temporary refuge during his travels. Fatigued, he sits down on the only available chair and invites me to make inquiries about the town, sorcery, his objectives, the artificial body he bestowed upon me, and the kingdom itself.

Amidst a myriad of questions, I settle on one crucial query: how much time has passed since my death. Dhael reveals it's been several decades, but less than a century. The realization carries mixed emotions, acknowledging the potential changes in the world and the possible encounters with familiar faces.

As I contemplate my next question, I realize Dhael has succumbed to sleep. Despite my curiosity, I allow him to rest, standing guard with a watchful eye on the door and windows. As time becomes inconsequential, my commitment to not disturb his rest remains unwavering unless a serious event unfolds.