The Mask of the Necromancer

☠ CHAPTER 13 ☠

We've been here for about three days. The only timekeeper I have is an old wind-up pocket watch, salvaged from a drawer in the central hallway. I doubt I've set the hands correctly since I found it, but it's the best I have. While its accuracy may be compromised by age and wear, especially in the seconds, it serves its purpose.

In Therro, distinguishing between night and day is challenging, and nobody seems to care. The village operates outside conventional time, governed by its own rules of individualism and mystery, shrouded in solitude. Complete isolation offers safety and privacy to those evading the kingdom's regulations. I'm unsure if there are other inhabitants nearby and how many could they be; if they exist, they certainly maintain their personal constructs secret. The air is filled with an unsettling sense of potential danger, and I can't help but to imagine murderers, traffickers, and various criminals seeking refuge next door.

Part of me, more human than the rest, is curious and yearns to explore the town's nooks and crannies. However, my loyal side recognizes the obligation to stay put and await orders, functioning as the tool I am.

To my surprise, the necromancer frequently comes and goes without explanation. He doesn't ask for my company, and I don't offer it. His activities are a mystery, especially when he retreats to a room that doubles as a basement—perhaps a sanctuary for rest or work. I respect his privacy, even though the key to that room often rests on the table, forgotten in his hurried comings and goings.

Dhael's face intrigues me as well, but I restrain myself from prying into his secrets. Despite spending significant time together, he never shares his plans or the unfolding events. Something is happening, but the specifics elude me.

The monotony of waiting becomes uncomfortable, akin to being another piece of furniture in the room. With no need for sustenance or sleep, time stretches on endlessly. Books line the shelves, but my inability to read or write leaves me idle. The desire for knowledge becomes palpable.

Staring out the window, I sometimes discern vague silhouettes of trees and buildings. Occasionally, I think I notice movement, triggering heightened alertness, though nothing materializes. It could be a trick of my imagination, a flaw in my eyes' design, or something else entirely.

The door opens slowly, likely Maika bringing food. I pay little attention, as her unsettling appearance foreshadows my own fate. In my loneliness I wonder about Dhael's past and the circumstances of my death fills my thoughts. The gaps in my memories are stark, leaving only blurry images and fragmented voices.

Suddenly, Dhael interrupts my thoughts as he pronounces my name. Startled, I respond, and he admonishes me for dwelling on the past, urging me to focus on the present. Tomorrow, he promises to introduce me to someone interesting.

As he leaves, I ponder his cryptic words and the secrets he withholds. I'll spend the coming hours meditating, hoping to uncover answers hidden within my fragmented memories.