The door opened, and no light spilt through from the other side. If one did not see the door frame, then one would have thought there was just a massive dark spot appearing out of nowhere. A deep breath could be heard, a loud audible sigh, and a person cloaked in shadow stepped through, no he was the darkness in the doorway. A dark, ominous shadow crawled over his body in a baptism of darkness concealing him. The door vanished. He walked over to the circle, more like he floated over the stone floor.

  “It took you all long enough to figure this out. I am quite disappointed in you all,” a man’s voice said, twisted with madness.

  It can’t be, it’s him, Lizbeth thought with great fear. She knew this voice.

  “Who are you?” Clyden demanded, still pushing on his light barrier.

  The shadow formed stopped, and the fog dissipated, slowly traveling down the man’s body, collating at his feet, revealing a gnarled, grotesque man. The man’s skin was robbed of pigment, and he was as pale as the ashes of an extinguished fire. His left face was hideously deformed, with sagging skin looking like it was about to fall off his face. His eyes were milky white with blindness. The man’s ribs were exposed as if he had not eaten for months. Black veins could be seen spidering beneath his thin skin like black webs crowding the corner of a house that had not been cleaned for years. He had a gnarled walking stick with runes carved into it, clutched by bony fingers. His milky eyes turned black.

  “Who I am?” he asked, this time speaking in a different voice. Fear gripped them all; it paralyzed their very souls, though it was only three words said they all recognized the voice.

  The eyes returned to the gray-white hues. “Master, you must not show yourself. They are not worthy of your voice,” the man said in the first voice they heard. “This one is not worthy of your presence, and I fear I will fail you if you do.” Just as he finished talking, his eyes turned a solid black, and his body jerked stilled.

  “Silence. The next is ready as we speak. You have served your purpose,” the man said in the voice they all feared. The left hand of the man began to smolder at the tips of the fingers. A hiss was heard, and his fingers began to light up like twigs being consumed by fire, turning into hot embers before they crumble to ash. The flesh around his hand hissed in the same manner as his fingers did, and it continued up his arm, devouring his flesh with flames to just a little below his shoulder. The man groaned in pain at the fiery destruction of his arm but did not scream as the ashes of his arm drifted down to the stone floor. The pain receded on the man’s distorted face, replaced with a manic smile.

  “R-Revlaman?” Malve asked, covering her mouth in shock. The fear in her voice was just as vast and as turbulent as the waters in the sea.

  “So, you do remember me, my love? Malve, I have waited for so long to see you,” Revlaman said, ominously floating towards Malve’s light column prison, his black eyes locking on to Malve’s.

  “You are not him, Rev,” Servan started.

  Revlaman’s eyes faded from black to pale white again, his head jerked around.

  “You are not worthy to say his name!” the man screamed, staring at Servan with fury-infused eyes and pain from his arm being burnt off. He glared at Servan with murderous intent, dropping his gnarled walking stick. He produced a disk about the size of a small plate from somewhere. Breathing on it, runes lit up in angry purple colors. He glared at Servan. “Not worthy!” he hissed vehemently, tossing the lighted disc at Servan. The disk smashed into Servan’s yellow column of light, disintegrating into it. Servan’s column turned red, starting from the top. Servan looked at his yellow light barrier slowly change. All eyes were transfixed on Servan and his column.

  “Oh my,” it was Revlaman’s voice speaking this time, the eyes turning black again. “I am sorry, Servan. I would punish my host for what he just has done, but one does not beat a dog for its devotion. You all should say your goodbyes now.”

  “No! No! Stop! Please stop!” Lizbeth screamed, falling to her knees. The tears were flowing, a torrential downpour from her eyes. Lizbeth was touching the green gem around her neck, wishing for an ounce of her magic she was cut off from now. Red lightning started to arc from the center column surrounding Bane to the parts of Servan’s column turned red. It hummed and crackled like mini thunder. The column was half yellow from the bottom and red at the top. The red light marched on with a slow pace downwards. All who were trapped in the columns of lights now grasped the situation. “Rev,” Lizbeth began to beg again.

  “Not worthy!” the emaciated man screamed in madness, the eyes flashing back to milky white, and another disk appeared. He blew on it, activating the runes. Lizbeth clutched her hand to heart.

  “Me! Revlaman, me! You are an old piece of dried udder leather!” Servan defiantly yelled. Revlaman’s vessel looked with hatred at Servan, his eyes turning black again.

  “Very well then,” Revlaman said, tossing the disk at Servan’s column. It struck as before. The pieces disintegrated, increasing the pace of the red-light converting Servan’s column.

  The air was congested with sounds of fear, pleas for mercy, and vows of revenge from all the magi trapped in their columns. Revlaman stood listening to it all and soaking it up as if the bitter amalgamation of emotions nourished him. Servan laid down in his cell; the red light was almost to him.

  “What? No more words for me, Servan?” Revlaman mocked, his black eyes darting back and forth to all those captured in their lighted prisons.

  “Shut up, all of you!” Servan yelled in a calm, stern voice. His friends in their light prisons fell silent. He was lying on his back, looking at the approaching crimson light, trying to put as much distance between him and the oncoming deadly red light. Servan turned his face to see Malve kneeling, her head pressed against the lighted wall of her cell. Their eyes locked “Malve, I am sorry that I let us all go away. I could have tried harder to keep us all together instead of abandoning us. I was selfish,” he said calmly.

  “NO! Servan, I could have tried also. We all should’ve tried harder,” Malve said, sobbing in her lighted prison, and pounding her light cell with her fists.

  “Clyden, although you and I always fought. No, I am just sorry,” Servan said. He could not see Clyden, but Servan could hear him pounding on the walls of his prison. Servan was calm, unimaginably brave, since he knew his time was over. Servan did not want his friends to remember him as weak for however long they all had left. The hairs on his body stood up, reacting to the pull of the red lightning. “Lizbeth, I wish I could have been one,” Servan was struck with a red lightning bolt to his chest. He screamed, and all his friends screamed along with him out of anger, fear, and desperation. Instinctively, Servan raised his hand to his chest. Another bolt lashed out, this time stronger, striking him in his raised hand. Servan’s hand vaporized, and his voice was in agony as he sat up, reacting to the pain, and his head entered the red zone of what was once a yellow column. As if acting like an ambush predator the lightning seemed to sense the invasion of its territory and multiple bolts of lightning struck his right cheek, robbing his jaw from his body as the energy from the bolt crawled over his face burning his skin away in less than a breath, turning the bones in his head to like brittle glass. Servan crumpled and ceased to move. The lighted yellow column surrounding him vanished in unison with the life passing from his body.

  The three remaining friends cried, screamed, sobbed, and they baptized Revlaman with agonizing promises of revenge. To Revlaman, it was a beautiful scene.

  “Yes! Yes! Give me more!” Revlaman said, basking in their indignation. Revlaman stretched out thin fingers, and the gnarled walking stick moved instantly to his outstretched hand. He floated over to Servan and poked him in the head with the stick, it passed through the top of Servan’s head as if it was a rotted melon, releasing heated steam trapped in his skull. “Servan, I thought we would have more time to talk. I feel cheated.”

  “How are you here?” Lizbeth asked, her voice wavering, her eyes reddened from tears.

  “Ah curious and know-it-all, Lizbeth. The smartest of us all,” Revlaman said, goading her, floating over to her. Revlaman knew Lizbeth’s curiosity was great. Her inquisitive nature often always led Lizbeth to throw herself into mysteries and puzzles, trying to understand and figure out their secrets. He was grateful that she ignored Clyden all these years or else he might not have this encounter today. The shadow mist stirred around him, climbing up his body, concealing everything except his face. “Would you like to know, curious Lizbeth?”

  “Y-yes,” Lizbeth hesitantly answered. If he tells us, then maybe we can figure out how to stop him, Lizbeth thought. Her mind was racing with theories, speculations, and ideas. She looked at her remaining friends. They both were on their knees, they had already given up or were in shock, and Lizbeth was trying to will hope into her friends in her mind. Revlaman moved in closer, leaning over to her barrier, and Lizbeth locked eyes with him, resisting the urge to shiver at the evil blackness of them. The fog surrounding him thinned out. Her eyes widened in fearful surprise briefly. Floating in front of him were six of the disks used on Servan’s column. Revlaman smiled with all the cruelty of a child plucking the wings off an insect.

  “No,” Revlaman said, knowing Lizbeth would die soon with the mystery on her mind, a last small amount of revenge for him. All the disks impacted her column with a hissing sound. They were devoured greedily by her lighted column. She did not even have time to take in a breath to scream as her green column turned red instantly. Multiple mini bolts of lightning snaked towards her body, striking her from head to waist. Lizbeth’s upper half of her body vanished along with the column of light. Her lower legs, still attached to her cauterized waist, fell over, twitching violently. Lizbeth Ratoval was no more.

  Malve and Clyden were both still in shock from watching Servan die. Neither of them noticed the interaction between Revlaman and Lizbeth until a red light flashed. Malve looked at where her friend was. Lizbeth’s legs were twitching, scraping against the stone floor before they slowed and stopped.

  “NOOOOOOOO!!!” Malve screamed with all her anguish. Malve’s scream brought Clyden back to his senses. Clyden glanced over at Malve. She was frantically clawing and pounding her lighted prison column with her small fists, her skin tearing around her knuckles until blood flowed. “Lizbeth!” Malve sobbed. “Clyden, he killed Lizbeth!”

  “Lizbeth?!” Clyden asked, turning and searching the area she was imprisoned. All he saw were her legs and waist cauterized. White, hot anger raged in his heart, “REVLAMAN!!!!!!”

  “HAHAHA!!! Now you all know. My apologies, I have misspoken. There are only two of you left now. At least you two now have an idea how I screamed in my mind for 200 years after you all imprisoned me,” Revlaman said. His smile revealed a mouth full of rotting teeth. “You all should have killed me. It was a mistake when you all decided to imprison me.”

  “They all wanted you dead, but I begged them to show mercy to you,” Malve said.

  “You had me imprisoned? I didn’t know you could be so cruel, my love,” Revlaman replied to Malve, floating towards her. “My mind broke over and over and would mend itself. It has been a vicious cycle. Do you know that when you are forced into such a situation? You can learn many things you would not have thought possible. I learned I could beg for death. It was this thought of release, or maybe it was madness, that led me to a profound discovery. I found out how to leave my body. Only my mind at first, it only took me a hundred years to figure that out.”

  “Please, if you ever loved me, then stop this,” Malve said calmly, trying to sound sincere.

  “‘Loved?!’” Revlaman snarled back at her. “Loved is past tense. It means my love no longer exists. There is no past tense for me. I still love you, Malve. I would have spared you if you had just seen our love wasn’t a thing of the past. But for this betrayal of truth.” Revlaman produced another disk in his hands, and he blew on it, activating the runes, turning them a glowing purple color. He tossed the disc gently in the air, and it floated in front of him. “Now, my love, you must suffer the anguish of watching everyone you care about die. It is only a shame you will never see Varoosh’s face when I kill him after he is summoned here.”

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  “Summoned?” Clyden asked. It never occurred to Clyden that this was not anything other than a trap once Revlaman appeared.

  “Just a moment, my dear, we still have one guest left,” Revlaman said, as if he was some innkeeper playing host. Revlaman floated towards Clyden, laughing.

  “Summoned?” Clyden repeated.

  “Yes. I guess we all have you to thank for this,” Revlaman said, turning around in a circle slowly, flourishing his only remaining hand gripping his walking staff at the chaos he wrought. “But Clyden, do tell me? Why did it take you so long to get to this point? I found the book,” pointing his staff towards the compendium laying on the chaise lounge chair Malve made for Lizbeth earlier, “almost 200 years ago. I made some alterations to it. It was never Varoosh’s compound lock. Why would he lock the book when he needed you all to get him back? I thought about putting it in Lizbeth’s path, but she would have been suspicious of such a book falling into her lap. The chance of her seeing through my rouse. I could not let her ruin all my preparation.”

  “It was a trap,” Clyden said. This is all my fault. He was the reason his friends died. His obsession with finding Varoosh led to his friends being murdered at the hand of their bitter enemy. Clyden wanted to die, to join Servan and Lizbeth; death was the only escape from the guilt.

  “I had a good laugh when you didn’t even question finding Bane stuck on some castle’s wall. It just happened to be in the same corridor as the poisoned two-year-old future King of Loudas resided in. Hmm, I wonder how he was poisoned, Clyden?”

  “Malve, I am so sorry.” Clyden said in a low tone. It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault!!!

  “It is your fault, Clyden,” Revlaman said, smiling viciously at Clyden as if he just read Clyden’s thoughts, wanting to continue to rip deeper into his despair. “You performed the part I set out for you magnificently. I used your persistence against you. None of them believed in your mission to bring Varoosh back. But not I, Clyden. I had total faith in you. I knew it was only a matter of time!” Revlaman’s voice grew louder with anger. “I just did not think it would take you a hundred years to get to this point! All the conversations I wanted to have with you all,” he paused momentarily. “I blame you!” Revlaman struck Clyden’s column of light with the gnarled walking stick.

  “Why,” Clyden asked?

  “Why? For four hundred years, I have waited for this. This moment is holy to me. When all of you are dead, then Varoosh will be summoned. You see. Your lives are part of the catalysts needed to bring him home in this version of the spell,” Revlaman laughed mercilessly, his face beaming with cruelty. “I did say I made changes. Forgive me for being so talkative. You see, I haven’t had the opportunity to entertain anyone for a while. I hope it is to your liking,” he cackled maniacally. The glowing disk revolving around Revlaman floated towards Clyden’s column.

  “No, please don’t,” Malve begged yet again, slapping her bruised, bloody hands against the confines of what she now regarded as her personal hell.

  Malve was on both knees, her face touching the floor. Revlaman looked at her as she begged. Malve looked at Revlaman, he waited for this moment. When their eyes met, he forced the disk into Clyden’s pillar of light. The red light began from the top, conquering the orange light at a slow, deadly march. Malve saw this and wailed in her white prison.

  “YES! That is what I have been waiting for, my love. All of this is your fault. If you did not betray me, then none of this would’ve happened,” Revlaman preached in a justified tone. Revlaman looked at one of the chairs, uttering a fetching spell. The chair floated across the room towards him, landing in front of Malve’s column. She turned her back to Revlaman as he sat in the chair. Whimpers mixed with sobbing gasps for air were the only sounds she made.

  Revlaman continued to laugh and taunt Malve in her despair. Her sobs were the cries of a person who lost everything. He twistedly thought his vengeance was thorough. Servan and Lizbeth were dead. Clyden was in his lighted cage with his death approaching and crippled with the guilt of bringing the lives of his friends to an abysmal end.

  Revlaman thought after he told the story of how Clyden was responsible for his friends’ deaths, that Clyden would accept death. Moments ago, Clyden would have gladly welcomed death. However, Revlaman inadvertently told him how to escape. Magic is wild and unpredictable. It needs rules to make it work properly, and once those rules are established for whatever the magic spell is to do. They become laws and must be obeyed; there could be no deviation from these rules.

  As Revlaman said earlier, there was a poisoned prince. One of Clyden’s fortes is healing, and he saved the prince’s life working with his extensive knowledge of potions. Clyden took a particular interest in poisons and how to nullify their effects. Clyden managed to isolate the poison used on Prince Danyais. Once he found the source of the poison was derived from a local plant, he was able to cure the boy. The plant used fascinated Clyden, and he conducted studies on it. He even figured out how to make a potion that could stop the heart with it and an antidote to neutralize the poison only if the heart was stopped by it. In short, the poison would kill him, and the antidote will bring him back.

  Clyden looked at the red light creeping slowly towards him, trying to gauge how much time he had in his head. If I take it too late, I will die from the lightning, and if I take it too early and if he turns and notices, I am dead with no obvious signs of damage before the antidote kicks in, then I am dead, Clyden plotted the different outcomes out in his mind. He would also have to sell his death to Revlaman in order to not seem suspicious. Clyden opened his robe, and in a side, pocket was a small dark vial containing the poison that would stop his heart, and next to it was a clear one with the antidote to save him.

  “Do not worry, my dear. I do not intend to make you suffer as you did me when you locked me away,” Revlaman said to Malve, trying to sound gentle on her impending death.

  “You still are locked away,” Malve said, her back still towards him.

  “With your beloved Varoosh’s death, I will be free from this prison you all cursed me to. I felt my bonds weaken with each of their deaths,” Revlaman said, motioning with his remaining hand over his shoulder. Six disks appeared, floating around him. “It will be quick.”

  Clyden looked at Revlaman’s back. He saw the six disks floating aimlessly around him. He did not know how many Revlaman used on Lizbeth’s green column, but she was gone so quickly. It had to be more than two, Clyden rationalized. Seeing so many of the disks forced Clyden into action. He pulled the cork stopper from the dark vial of poison and swallowed, thinking he would have to do something about the taste if he lived through this. He would need to wait for the dizziness to start before he would take the antidote.

  Malve turned back around to face the man she hated, leaning on the invisible wall, looking at Clyden’s orange column slowly turning red. The horrendous sounds of the crackles from the mini bolts of lightning she heard from her previous friends’ column arced from the center towards his column. Malve had no tears left to cry. No more words seemed to come to mind. Malve was ready for it to be over. She looked at Clyden.

  Clyden saw Malve was looking at him. He started to scream and wail pleadingly, “Please give me time, Revlaman, please have mercy. Just give me time.” Revlaman did not even respond; he just looked at Malve. Clyden was dizzy; he leaned against the confines of his prison. His legs buckled, forcing him to sit down. Malve watched Clyden raise his hands to his face. Clyden slowly laid down the same way Servan did, trying to stall the inevitable.

  The red light consumed half of Clyden’s orange column. Malve readjusted herself so she could face Revlaman. “How did you escape, Revlaman?” Malve asked, studying the withered man before her.

  “Were you not listening earlier?” Revlaman asked, sounding annoyed.

  “I didn’t quite follow everything you said. I was preoccupied with other things,” Malve said, looking at where her friends once stood, a tear streaming down her face.

  “Ah, I understand,” Revlaman said, placing a hand on her white lighted barrier. “It must be a lot to take in after not seeing me for such a long while. However, I can’t have you thinking about other men.” Revlaman looked over at the body of Servan casting another fetching spell, Servan’s corpse lifted off the ground, the arms and legs dangling in the air, and he hurled it at Malve. The corpse hit the barrier with force. Malve could hear the bones in Servan’s body crack. She pulled her knees up to her chest and found a reservoir of tears to cry.

  “Please! Just kill me now?” Malve begged him for release from this horrifying nightmare. She wanted to escape to endless sleep. Malve looked over towards Clyden. The red, thunderous light was getting closer to him.

  Revlaman turned to look at Clyden. Seeing the red light was finishing with its murderous march, he returned his attention back to Malve and said, “It shall not be long now, my love.”

  Clyden knew he was about to die. He could feel his heart slowing. He didn’t know if his potion would kill him or if the blasted encroaching lightning would. The rate at which the red lightning was descending on him, Clyden was giving the odds to the lightning.

  I must have misjudged the poison. I will get it right next time; Clyden laughed at himself. He knew his thought process was slowing, and he felt sluggish. There was something important he had to do; it was detrimental. What was I supposed to do? Clyden could feel the hair on his body being pulled towards the red lightning arcing almost in front of his face now. He could feel the reverberations of the encroaching red lightning. He let out a last scream of despair, it was a wail of hate, it was a prayer for mercy, the scream was of hope, and when it was done, Clyden was dead.

  Malve looked over at Clyden when she heard him scream. The red light vanished in unison when his screams concluded. She did not even have the words anymore. Her heart was broken, turned to ash three times over by this evil monster sitting in a chair, looking at her with black eyes. Revlaman just looked at her with a smile on his face.

  “You are right; this is all my fault. Yes, if only I had chosen to have you killed. I only felt guilty choosing Varoosh over you. Then none of this would have happened,” Malve stated calmly.

  “It is too late now, Malve,” Revlaman said.

  “I know that!” Malve said with animosity in her voice. It was her last will of resistance; embolden by the vestige of anger she had left. Revlaman recoiled a little, sitting back in the chair.

  “Hahaha, that is the Malve I remember,” Revlaman said, leaning forward from the chair, pressing his cheek to the white light.

  Malve crawled the little ways to where Revlaman’s cheek was pressed against her lighted cell. “Do not do it quick. My punishment should be drawn out,” Malve said to him.

  Revlaman sat back, stunned at what she had requested. He looked like he wanted to argue with her or plead with her to let him end it quickly, but he said nothing. Revlaman just shook his head. All but one of the disks floating around Revlaman dropped to the ground, breaking easily as thin glass. He reached his boney fingers out, grabbed the last disk, kissing it in some perverse action of affection, and then blew on the disk, turning the runes purple.

  “Very well, my love. I was unable to give you happiness, but this I can do,” Revlaman said as he pressed it against the white column of white. The white light began to turn red at the top of Malve’s column, as it has done for her friends. Malve stood up, looking at the red light above her head.

  “Do not look away,” Malve demanded of him. She wanted Revlaman to see her eyes and face vividly. Revlaman shook his head in agreement, granting her last wish. She visualized how Servan’s face was blown apart by the red lightning and how Lizbeth’s entire body from the waist up was taken in an instant.

  Ba-dump, Ba-dump, it was a heartbeat. Clyden eyes opened slowly, and he could hear faint noises. He could tell someone was talking. Who is talking? Am I dead? He clearly remembered he was going to die. He did die, and he was sure of it. Clyden’s head rolled to the right, and his eyes focused on the chaise lounge. Laying on the chaise was the giant compendium he found. The book, it was a trap, and with that one thought, it all came flooding back to him.

  All the memories of the past few hours assaulted his brain, washing over his consciousness quicker than a breath. So much pain, unbearable guilt, anguish, and Clyden wished he were dead with all his heart. Clyden’s gaze shifted to what was lying next to the book on the chaise. It was Witch Devil, his glaive. He turned his head and saw Revlaman sitting in a chair, his attention devoted entirely towards Malve, and unaware of the oriole stalking the mantis. In front of Revlaman, a column of white light was slowly turning red. Clyden looked at Revlaman’s back with unfathomable anger. Rolling over to his side, Clyden reached for his magic and was relieved he could feel it again. He silently began to whisper a fetching spell, Witch Devil lifted in the air stealthily as he crouched to his feet. The heat in his heart would vaporize iron. A dragon would not have dared stand in the inferno of his fiery judgment, and in one silent motion, Clyden leapt in the air, being carried by a speed spell.

  Malve looked at Revlaman’s hideous face. A tear formed in her right eye, traveling down her cheek. Revlaman looked at her and smiled in amusement. He must have thought it was her last tear of despair or regret. Revlaman was sure Malve was broken completely; all his actions and words were calculated strikes to shatter her resolve. Until he saw Malve’s facial expression change from resigned despair to hope. A smile formed on Malve’s lips. She was not looking at him. He whipped his body around, standing up and knocking the chair he sat in aside at an unnatural speed. Revlaman was able to see Clyden’s glaive. The runes on it lit up as if fire spilled out of them. Witch Devil flew towards him, deadly intent on collecting his soul.

  “Revlaman!” Clyden screamed loudly just as his hands gripped the haft of Witch Devil. Clyden put as much righteous hatred and force as he could into the strike. The black blade sunk into Revlaman with ease, pushing its way out through his back with the momentum of the thrust pushing into the red and white column of light holding Malve captive. The column cracked and shattered in a rain of red and white sparks.

  Clyden held onto the glaive, looking into Revlaman’s eyes. Blood oozed from his mouth. With a groan, Revlaman’s eyes closed as the last bit of life left his corpse. Clyden sighed, closing his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought with bitter remorse of Lizbeth and Servan. He was relieved his plan worked, felt guilty it worked. Clyden opened his eyes. Revlaman’s body started to disintegrate like a log being eaten by a ravenous fire, turning into hot ash like his arm before falling to the floor. The relief Clyden felt just a moment before became like the ashes of Revlaman falling to the floor now. The glaive that rendered righteous punishment to Revlaman punctured through him and the lighted prison containing Malve. What Clyden did not anticipate was it would also claim the life of Malve, Witch Devil was embedded in her chest.

  End of Emerge Chronicles: Reunion