Reflections: Prologue

"Haha, priceless. Oh man, did you actually think that I hired you as a minion, because I'm somehow in love with you?"

Tsukiko was taken aback. For a brief moment she staggered back, shaking, her eyes betraying an agglomeration of anguish and shock. That moment, the azure-blue walls of the sanctum swirled and kicked against its restraints; displacing light and space as if to create an illusion of a swirling plane. It took her a minute to finally orient herself and regain her speech. "But, but, sir," she stammered, pausing to studder as her eyes wavered, the halls becoming once again a swirl of haze. "Sir Xykon, but I've served you so faithfully. Surely, you must…"

"I do not seem to be holding my phylactery or the secret to teleporting the gates."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"It means you still have work to do, worthless trash." Xykon's voice - cold, almost as an icicle - sent a chill down her heart. That was the first time she had seen this side of the lich; not the jolly, perfect employer with a penchant for torture that she used to know. Instead, he had become almost like an avatar of evil; his voice unearthly and his eyes - two glowing red orbs extruding from the sockets of his skull - seemed no less than malignant. If he has screamed in rage he would perhaps be more human, but this - he was almost reminiscent of the Sapphire Order. Cruel. Emotionless. Intolerant.

She wanted to blame Redcloak for this, but could not find a justification. Weakly, her eyes shifted toward those empty sockets, desparately trying to discover the nonexistant wisp of affection within. Her knees shook, then finally collapsed under her weight; her mouth studdering as if trying - failing - to find an appropriate response. At this, the lich only laughed.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Tsukiko." Briefly, he grinned, and but any reassurance she gathered from this was quickly dispelled when the lich glared into the girl's eyes, spewing toxic words almost in mockery of her fragile feelings. "You are nothing to me. Oh, don't get me wrong, you were a great tool for a while, back when I thought that you could - oh, I don't know - actually use the other part of Redcloak's spell. Now? You're worth as much to me as a level one commoner, and you know what's funny? I can tell you all of this, and you'll still slave away as my minion because - let's face it - you're so caught up in your silly little delusion of undead love that admitting your mistake is an impossibility at this point. Just like Redcloak, you're a toy that could only dance in the palm of my hand."

And even as he left, his mocking sneer echoed across the room, leaving only a broken necromancer girl sitting in the center, half-mindedly grasping at the air behind her unrepentant crush.

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