9 Chapter 9

Aerwyn raised the dagger up and after a deep breath he plunged it into the beasts chest with all his might. The direwolf raised its head and let out a pitiful whimper before collapsing once more to the ground.

Aerwyn lowered his head and frowned, he took no pleasure in killing a defeated beast. Despite the pain he would inevitably experience if the creature was brought back he still hoped it would succeed so that the beast could live once more.

Not wanting to pass out and fall face first into the four snarling direwolves, Aerwyn took a few steps back as the light tendrils began to appear from the beasts chest. The tiny star hastily made it's way to him before diving into his chest.

The warming sensation this time was much stronger than the lok's and brexil cats, only dwarfed by Rorik's own soul. Realizing the strength of the warming sensation correlated to the strength of the pain, he began to lament agreeing to this plan.

The shrouded purple tendril began to peak out from his chest, followed by Aerwyn collapsing from the debilitating pain. Tylin carefully watched on as Aerwyn struggled before the tiny purple star finally broke free of his chest and dashed towards the direwolves corpse.

The beast began convulsing for a moment before its wounds began spewing out the ethereal black smoke that completely enshrouded its body. The smoke dissipated leaving behind smoldering fur as the beast opened its eyes revealing two purple flames.

"Fascinating..." Tylin whispered his signature phrase before looking over to Aerwyn who was still grasping his chest on the forest floor.

"...Ah, Aerwyn are you ok? What did it feel like? Describe it to me!"

"ARGHH! PAIN! It hurts, that's what it feels like! Damn it!" Aerwyn howled as he rolled about.

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"Yes, yes Aerwyn, but describe the sensation when the soul left you. Did you feel any connection with it?"

"No! Maybe, i don't know! When it happens all i can think about is the feeling of my chest being ripped apart." The pain began to slowly diminish allowing him to finally stand up and catch his breath.

"Good, you seem to be fine now. For the other four you are permitted to use your spear, since we now know the power you possess is truly yours and not related to that weapon of yours."

Aerwyn groaned and against his better judgment began to walk over to the next direwolf in the line up. He was in no mood to feel pity for the beasts this time around, the throbbing pain in his chest saw to that. The peculiar spear sank into the beasts chest causing him to once again take a few steps back as he knew that he was undoubtedly going to fall.

The soul shot out of the beast and into his chest once again, causing the pain from the first to be soothed momentarily. What followed was more agony as the purple soul began to pry its way out. This time however, he felt noticeably weaker as if he hadn't slept the night before.

He rolled around and howled in pain once more before the pain dissipated enough for him to stand. He protested at Tylin to stop but was ignored and ordered to go again. Each time he brought a direwolf back to life he would grow weaker. By the time he was ready to end the life of the last direwolf it felt as if he could barely keep his eyes open.

Tylin only watched on, sometimes grumbling to himself in words that Aerwyn couldn't hear nor cared to. Once the spear was firmly planted into the last direwolf he collapsed on the spot before the soul even reached him.

Awakening to the aroma of venison being cooked on an open fire Aerwyn looked for the source of the mouth watering smell. In the middle of the clearing were two of Tylin's death knights standing over the fire holding hunks of meat at the end of their swords. The odd sight left him confused for a moment until he looked past them and saw Tylin scribbling notes into a book under the light of the camp fire.

"Wha.. What happened?" Aerwyn spoke as he attempted to sit up but startled Rin who was lying on his stomach.

"KWEE!" She bumped her head into his stomach before curling back up into a ball.

"Ah, you're awake! Good, good, I believe what you experienced is akin to what one experiences when they overdraft their mana. When you create undead the soul enters your body and transforms, during this transformation the foreign soul seems to fuse with your soul before taking a part of it when it leaves. It is truly fascinating dear boy, in my opinion this is what causes you great pain but it is also the reason why you can control your undead.

Your soul was extremely weak when you first came to the village and yesterday i noted that with each lok soul you absorbed, your soul grew larger. Before you turned the direwolves undead your soul was nearly double what it was. While it was still only a fraction of the size of a normal soul it allowed us to proceed with the experiment once the opportunity, the direwolves, presented themselves.

I believe whatever or whoever caused you to lose your memories is also the reason your soul is in such a state. If the gods are to be believed then your soul is your identity, your essence, and you dear boy are very close to being without one. You must steel yourself to the possibility that you may never recover your memories."

Aerwyn stared silently into the starry night sky, he thought back to his dream of the faceless man and if his gut feeling was right, then that was the event that caused him to lose his memories. He remembered how quickly the man moved and how he felt powerless against him. If that man found him now he would die without question. What if he was still looking for him? The thought gave Aerwyn a chill.

"I need to grow stronger..." He mumbled but Tylin's elven ears easily picked up the words.

"Very good, then tomorrow we shall head further south. There are some goblin encampments that we can raid, you need to strengthen your soul back up before creating any more undead and i believe goblins will provide more of a boost than loks have thus far."

"Why are you helping me so much?"

"I'm not as altruistic as to help without any gain. I am nearing the end of my life, as of this year i am fifty six years old. Do you remember what i told you about the curse Selene put on us? I only have four years left to discover the secrets of becoming a lich, however when you appeared i was given more options.

If i cannot do it myself then i can simply have you kill me and bring me back, being beholden to you is far more desirable than what awaits me in the underworld. The gods believe necromancers to be demonic abominations since the demons are the ones who brought necromantic magic into this world. The punishment is having your soul tortured for a thousand years in the underworld."

"You want me to kill you?"

"If it comes to that, there is still time and I've already learned much from watching your interactions with souls. I may just be the first Fae'Laran to become a lich thanks to you dear boy. Get some rest we'll be leaving at first light."