If Angra’s voice had cracked my cold, black heart before, the state of my vault broke it in two.

  I stood next to my sarcophagus, slowly surveying what remained of my vault. Enhanced by my connection to the shadow and my ancestry, my red eyes allowed me to see in the darkness as well as I could in the light. One look around the empty cavern surrounding me made me wish that I couldn’t.

  My beloved treasure vault had become nothing more than a mere shadow of its former glory. Where once there had lain a carefully curated cache of the finest treasure, artifacts, and finery in the world, now there remained only the scattered remnants of three kingdoms' worth of wealth, several lifetimes' worth of arcane creations, and the finest armory in all of Reial.

  Worse still, a giant, gaping hole decorated the far wall.

  A crude tunnel had been carved into this most sacred place. Piles of stone littered the floor, and the hole extended well into the cavernous depths beyond. Hundreds of gouges in the stone told me someone had dug through the earth. Many someones from the look of it.

  The sight made me shudder with rage.

  A pitiful noise escaped my lips as I looked away from the hole and back to my vault. Here were a few coins. There lay an enchanted sword with a wicked crack running down its length, its sigils rusted over. In the corner rested an otherworldly crystalline flower, knocked from its pedestal and shriveled with age. One of my old war banners, the red cloth and black raven faded with age, was knocked over into the dirt and dust, discarded and forgotten.

  I was tempted to fall back into my sarcophagus. It would be a fine thing to let the ages pass me by.

  Just as I thought I might succumb to the impulse, the shadows surrounding me rippled. There was a tearing sound, then a wave of essence as a small, reddish figure materialized on the ground in front of me. It was about the size of a house cat but humanoid, like a miniature elven woman, save for the bat wings, deep red skin, and glowing slitted yellow eyes. And the tail. I couldn't forget the tail. It had a stinger.

  For a long moment, she was still. Her eyes searched mine, silent tears flowing down her cheeks. Her lip quivered, and she played with her hands as if she were unsure what to do with them. “Is it truly you?"

  "It is me."

  In a red streak, she threw herself at me, landing in my arms a wailing ball of tears, sobs, and supplications.

  "Master! You're alive!" The little imp squirmed in my arms with the unrestrained fervor of a pet left alone for far too long. “I never doubted you! I never lost faith! I knew you’d come back to me—ee—eeeeee!!!” Her words devolved into a series of wracking sobs. Her cries echoed throughout my empty vault, bouncing harshly through the pitifully empty halls.

  I gritted my teeth. In the past, I had hated emotional outbursts like these. Uncouth. Uncivilized. They made my fangs itch. I barely restrained the impulse to chastise her for the outburst.

  However… she had waited for me all this time. I supposed I owed her the indulgence. I was cruel, but not that cruel.

  I found myself stroking her short, thick red hair. I’d complimented the style many times in the past, and it seemed that she’d kept her hair trimmed the way I liked it. While dirty and unkempt, it looked mostly as I remembered it. It was one of the few things I still had a clear memory of.

  “It’s okay, little one.” I was unused to consoling others. It didn’t come naturally to me.

  “I’m just so happy…” Her golden eyes gazed up at me with adoration. As she did, her barbed tail flicked to and fro. The wicked tip nearly struck me, forcing me to dodge its poisoned stinger lest I end up back in the sarcophagus mere moments after returning to this miserable world. "Master!" Wracking sobs shook the imp's body once again, her thick red hair sticking to her wet cheeks. "I've waited so long for you!"

  When her stinger nearly struck my throat, I grabbed it. “Your tail, Angra.”

  Her large yellow eyes widened. “Sorry, Master…” She wiped her cheeks and settled down. Once she was composed, she looked up at me and smiled.

  There was that itching in my heart again.

  "I'm sorry for being gone so long, my dear," I whispered. I wiped the few stray tears that fell down her cheeks. "I'm here now. Don't fret any longer." The words felt unnatural. I couldn't remember ever genuinely consoling another being before. In the past, honeyed words were just a means to get what I wanted. Nothing more.

  What had that woman done to me?

  The imp took my fingers in her hands and rubbed her cheeks on them. Her golden eyes glowed in the darkness as she studied me. "You took forever." Her cheeks puffed out.

  “It wasn’t by choice.”

  “Still! Why would you leave a lady like me waiting for so long?” She huffed and bared her little fangs.

  “I would hardly call you a lady, Angra.”

  Her tail twitched. “And after everything I’ve done for you.” She turned in my lap, plopped down, and crossed her arms. “Hmph!”

  As mercurial as ever. “You wouldn't happen to know how long it's been, would you?"

  "I don't know."

  "And what of the vault? How did it come to this state?"

  I felt her shudder in my lap. She sniffed and turned around. Her lower lip quivered, and her eyes filled with fresh tears. "All of your things... everything… It’s all gone..." Another sob wracked her tiny frame as she gestured toward the torchlit tunnel. "The intruders... she brought so many men... I tried... I tried to stop them..." She bared her fangs as she pointed toward the hole in the wall, tail twitching violently as she pointed.

  Following her finger, I noticed for the first time two corpses lying half-buried behind a pile of stone. Two mugs littered the floor next to them. “What killed them?”

  “I did.”

  I ran my hand through her hair. “You did good, little one. Relay the tale for your master.”

  Her lips twisted into a smile. “They decided to come again without her. One more time. One more score, they said. While the others worked, these two thought they would rest within our vault. When they grew drunk with ale, I struck. They never even saw me.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “There were others?”

  Her smile grew. “There were. They died in the tunnel.”

  I pulled her closer. I was proud of her. "You did well, Angra."

  Angra sniffed. "No, I didn't! Your beautiful vault was ruined, all because I failed!" She shrieked. "And it's all that stupid woman’s fault!" She tried to leap from my arms, but I held her down. For a moment, she fought to get away, but she quickly gave up. She trembled in my lap, then curled into a bristling ball in my arms.

  Growing tired from standing, I sat on my coffin's edge and numbly surveyed my ruined vault. For what felt like the first time, I had nothing to say. That emptiness I’d felt for so long permeated nearly every corner of my spirit, mirroring the space around me. I turned inward as reality washed over me. My shoulders sagged. My breath hitched.

  Then, I laughed.

  Seeing it all, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. The great and terrible Abad-Shai, terror of the ten realms, reduced to nothing. Angra unwound in my lap, her golden eyes gazing up at me with clear concern, but I didn’t care. I listened as cruel, bitter laughter poured from my lips, my mind an observer to my heart’s mirthless joy.

  When I began to still, I felt an unbidden smile play upon my lips. I'd been so angry in my tomb. So impotently angry for so long. Yet, now, seeing it all with my own eyes, I felt empty. There was nothing left. Not in my vault, and not in me. Fate had taken it all.

  Angra moved closer, and her little hand found my cheek. “Master?”

  No.

  Not everything.

  I looked down at the little familiar in my lap. My faithful, constant companion. I had one thing left. That thought comforted me.

  “Are you okay?”

  I smiled at her. “I believe I am now. Thank you, Angra.” For everything. “Now, tell me more. I wish to know all that you know.

  She grinned. “Gladly.”

  She recounted tales of thieves entering the vault. They’d come at least ten times. Each time, some died to my traps, others to my enchantments, and still others to the beings that once patrolled my halls. Cursed rings melted hands, weapons exploded on touch, and seals burned intruders alive. In time, even the most foolish and brave among the thieves feared touching anything. But still they came. When one died, two more took their place.

  After the fourth excursion, Angra had followed intruders back to the surface. There, she stalked them in the shadows and struck when they least expected it. Her fangs bared as she told her tales. Of the thirty-some who entered, she'd killed half. Some died drinking at pubs, stabbed mid-swig. Others died in the brothel, the throats opened when inside some whore. Some died in their sleep. Others met more creative ends. She smiled as she recounted one man's horror at waking up in his flaming tent. That particular story seemed special to her.

  My eyes continued to scan the vault as she spoke. I realized I was holding onto the mistaken hope that, if I looked away, my belongings would return when I looked again. They did not. To distract myself, I opened my scroll. I needed to take my focus away from my lost belongings. Willing my scroll into my mind, I beckoned Angra’s information forth.

  Angra, Imp Familiar Rogue

  Level 28 | Talent Level 7 | Job Level 5

  Strength ◆◇ | Endurance ◆◇ | Coordination ◆◆◆◇ | Quickness ◆◆◆◆◇ | Focus ◆◇ | Will ◆◆

   ★★ Imp 3

  

1. [Shadowmeld]
2. {Animal Shape}
3. {Envenom}

  ★★★Familiar 4

  

1. [Shared Arcana]
2. {Transfer Essence}
3. {Lifelink}
4. {Martyrdom}

  ★ Padfoot 2

  

1. [Silent Step]
2. {Steal}

  ★★ Rogue 3

  

1. [Opportunist]
2. {Sneak Attack}
3. {Evade}

  [Rat Fur Loincloth]

  I reviewed her scroll appreciatively. I couldn’t remember the details, but I was certain she’d gotten stronger since I’d last seen her. She'd been resourceful while I slept. A glimmer of pride rose in my chest once again. She was nearly as strong as I was now, and she had far more skills. She’d be invaluable as I reclaimed my place in this world. Another thought came to me. I realized that through our bond, her efforts to protect the vault were likely why I was able to recover.

  "Angra."

  She stopped mid-story. Her yellow eyes locked onto mine. “Yes, Master?”

  "Thank you. You've been an excellent servant. I'm proud of you."

  In response to my words, she beamed, her eyes burning in the dark vault. I expected her to leap for joy, or do a little dance, or maybe even sass me. Instead, she cried again. A stream of “I'm not worthy,” and thanks, and eternal oaths followed.

  I immediately regretted speaking.

  When she leaped from my lap to prostrate herself on the floor, I decided future praise was off the table.

  As she rambled, my attention returned to my vault's remarkable emptiness. Even with time eroding my seals, the enchantments should have made stealing my valuables impossible. My spells should have made it impossible to find the place, let alone steal from it. I stood and walked to the center of the great hall.

  Walking to where the Black Flame, the infernal fire that bent reality to my will, once burned, I looked into the pit that once housed it and observed the magical seal below. "Angra." She lifted her head, only then noticing I'd moved. Leaped up and flew to alight on my shoulder. "You said about thirty people entered?"

  She counted on clawed fingers. "Thirty-two, yes."

  "How many died to my enchantments?"

  "Too few, master. helped the thieves bypass them." Angra bristled. “No good, rotten, dirty—”

  I held up a hand. "I'll ask about her next. First, how many did you slay within the vault?"

  "A dozen."

  "And you killed half the others who returned to the surface?"

  She nodded eagerly. "Poisoned, burned, drowned, eaten! There was a wolf outside that got one after I cut his hamstring—"

  "And the others?"

  "Escaped. Don't know where." She hung her head.

  So ten survived. "Why do we have items left?" I gestured to the corner treasure piled in the far corner. "Where did those come from?"

  The imp bared her teeth. "That’s what I could recover."

  I patted her head. "Good girl." I pondered. "How many times did they return?"

  "Many times. But I got them." She nodded. "I weakened the tunnel. When they returned—smushed!"

  "Smushed?"

  "Like smashed. But worse!" Angra snickered. "The ceiling collapsed. Three were crushed under the rock. The others were trapped inside. You'll see them in the caves. Only that whore and another escaped." Her face broke into a gleeful grin.

  So that was the tinking noise I’d heard. I couldn't decide whether to strangle or kiss her for bothering me while I slept. I breathed deeply and let it go. "Impressive, little friend."

  "Oh, thank you!" She started getting carried away, so I pinned her against my neck with my hand.

  "Yes, yes," I nodded, holding her. I'd heard enough praise and crying for a lifetime. "Don't worry. You've sworn your oaths. Stay on my shoulder."

  She cooed in response.

  My mind moved to the next thing. I turned to the imp on my shoulder. Her puffy yellow eyes were an inch from mine. "Now, tell me about this woman."

  "Horrible, evil, rotten, no good..." She hissed, trailing into a series of indecipherable invectives.

  “Angra…”

  The imp huffed. "When she entered, she kept telling everyone what was real, what was an illusion, and what was a trap. She pointed out your enchantments, showed the thieves how to bypass them."

  Angra fluttered down and imitated a person walking, fists on hips, exaggerating movements, lowering her voice to a husky purr: "My dear dark brother built this vault. Now that he's dead, the least we can do is liberate his treasures. This is what he would want." She scrunched her face, puffed out her chest, and dropped her voice. Then she ran forward, kicking at one of the few remaining illusions. "This! Is! Not! REAL!"

  I wanted as my servant strutted about, imitating the all-too-familiar mannerisms. I knew exactly who she meant. Selene had discovered my vault. Of course she would—she knew me better than most, and she was clever enough to figure out my traps given enough time. Fitting she'd rob my most prized possessions.

  Selene had always been a pain. Even during the Great War, she remained was staunchest ally and most bitter rival. Of all of my dark brethren, the other inheritors of the Dark Lord’s essence, she was the only one I’d ever called a friend. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Selene liberated my treasures, then?”

  Angra’s head whipped around. “That did, yes.”

  Angra had never liked Selene. My familiar had always been possessive, and Selene was a master at getting under the imp’s skin. Angra more than once had sworn to kill my old ally if she ever had the chance.

  Still, only someone with intimate knowledge of my mind could bypass my protections. It was impressive, even if the deepest part of me cried out for vengeance. I knew that, if she still lived, I’d make her suffer for her choices. While regaining my full power would take time, I'd shake the world again in time.

  A small part of me wavered.

  Why?

  What feeling was this?

  Doubt?

  Regret?

  Like a shadow, a memory whispered at my mind's edge, but when I grasped for it, it was gone.

  I shrugged. Whatever it was didn't matter. I crushed the dissenting emotion under my iron will.