• Dark: adj 1) Lacking brightness. 2) Characterized by gloom. 3) Sullen or dismal. 4) Exhibiting or stemming from evil characteristics or forces; sinister. 5) Difficult to understand; obscure. 6) Concealed or secret; mysterious
    Machination(s): n 1) The act of plotting. 2) A crafty scheme or cunning design for the accomplishment of a sinister end


    Prologue: Drifting Shadows

    The world drifted around her in a haze of murky gray and black, monotonous in form and with an oppressive air. As she drifted, formless and blending perfectly into this void where time held no meaning, she tried to imagine what had gone wrong. It had all seemed so perfectly done…she had been so close. And then everything was ruined in the blink of an eye. Damn you, celestial! she screamed wordlessly, her fury boiling off in waves of wispy black from her drifting form. She would have her revenge…on the celestial and on that pathetic excuse for a dragon, but there was a problem.

    It was hard to exact revenge when you were dead.

    At least as dead as something like herself could be, she concluded as she thought on it for a few meaningless moments. She really was something unique. She was the darkness in her host, the term fit well enough she supposed, feeding off of the despair, sorrow, and anger she caused. She was a shadow in the back of her head, taunting her when she weak, controlling her when she was strong. She was a taint, like a slick of oil over an undisturbed pond, clinging to all the hands that plunged in and sought fresh water so they only brought up filth instead, and she relished every life she touched and thereafter destroyed.

    Her happiness didn’t last long, disrupted by her current plight that vexed her to no end. This wouldn’t do at all, she had to find a way out…she was desperate.

    Then she felt it; a second presence in the murky void. A tingling sensation that seemed, to her skewed perception of time, to appear immediately. Eagerly she drew herself closer to it as if drawing closer to a fire to fight the chill. The closer she got, the more comfortable she felt, but she needed more. Her only desire to use whatever it was to escape…she had to escape.

    I can help…

    The voice that cut through was like a solid knife through fog. It felt as if she could reach out and touch the words being spoken. She let her own ethereal thoughts flow back, perhaps a bit too eagerly. How?

    I can give you form…you may only be a shadow, but you are the shadow of the mightiest of creatures. Follow my path, become my disciple, and I will give you form.

    She barely pondered a moment before reaching out to the presence. Lead and I will follow. Point the direction and I will go…anything to be whole again, I swear! Normally the thought of abasing herself so would be utterly repulsive, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were certainly desperate times. The presence she felt began to grow stronger by the moment…and larger. She began to see something in the murky cloud that was steadily looming towards her and looked like a massive drake comprised entirely of flickering flames in bright oranges, reds, and yellows. It barely moved, but the voids in the flames which represented its eyes watched her, she could feel it and it made her want to shiver in fear. She’d only felt one other presence so terrifying…

    Bane, the one who had ripped her free and given her life…power-hungry, malicious life. He was also the one who had left her trapped and without a guide. She hated him for it, and yet she fervently wished for him to come back to her, much like one longs for the arms of their lover. A vexing situation, but it didn’t matter right now. Whatever this presence was, it wasn’t Bane and yet it inspired in her the same awe and reverence as her previous master as she waited for its verdict. Then it came without warning. The giant jaws of the drake opened up and snapped down around her, the flames licking through the misty shadows in an unbearable rise of heat. A soundless scream roiled through the mists of the shadows as they turned to vapors in the dragon’s fiery maw, a scream wrought with betrayal and fury as the fire engulfed her sense of vision…

    …and she bolted upright taking in a deep gasp of breath. A shiver ran through her spine, prickling the goose bumps over her chilled skin. …Skin? She looked down at her hands, her vision a blur as her body tried to adjust to the sensation again. Her hands were a blurry outline, but they were solid flesh and bone, just as solid as her naked form against the cold stone she’d been laid out upon. Another shiver ran across her skin as she realized just how cold it felt. A distant voice drifted to her and she blinked to focus her senses, finally regaining enough of her wits to turn her head towards the sound. Words…she was beginning to pick out and understand words from what was being said.

    “…you alright, Mistress?”

    Shaking her head she brought up a bronzed hand to brush away the locks of fiery red which fell into her vision. “Where am I?” she said, then paused, focusing in on the source of the voice, a tall, lithe woman dressed in nary a shred of clothing with curves to die for, demonic in nature she gathered by the soft, leathery wings of a dark hue which trailed in her wake and the tail swaying alluringly from side to side. “More importantly, who are you?” she quickly added to her previous query bringing a confused frown to the fiendish woman’s face.

    “Narcissa, Mistress…don’t you remember?” the stranger answered at the same time another voice whispered, Don’t worry, she’s one of mine.

    She felt her pulse quicken in fury, and at least partly with a little fear. Another voice? Just what was going on?

    You’re alive again, Shade. One of your gods saw to that with my, hmmm…assistance.

    What are you talking about? Who…what are you?

    I’m the form that gave you life again. I should hope you’d be grateful, the voice retorted, though I’ll understand if you aren’t at the moment.

    Narcissa’s voice drew her back to reality before she could reply. “Mistress?” The fiend wore a submissive face, but her body language showed her impatience.

    Let me, the voice in her head replied, and as if the reigns of control had been taken from her hands she felt herself subsiding to a ‘back seat’ position, a mere spectator for the moment as her own mouth opened and spoke words in a harsh, grating tongue. Whatever was said, the fiendish woman bowed respectfully and moved out of the room. There…now let m-- The voice trailed off as she, for lack of a better word, snatched back control, something the Shade was thankfully good at. A sense of ethereal bemusement floated in her head. Alright then…next time I’ll be a good girl and ask.

    Well, I suppose you’ll have to forgive me, but I’ve never trusted that little voice in the back of my head, she shot back. Especially now that it apparently does more than just talk.

    A chuckle, and then, Touché.

    Good…now that that’s out of the way, where are we?

    All business, no pleasure? How dull…though if you must know, you’re in the Abyss.

    Well that narrows things down a bit… the Shade replied dryly.

    Look, you made the bargain so like it or not, you and I are stuck together. This path is binding, deary, but…I suppose if we really must, I could take you to the Power that found you. I’m sure he can give you some answers.

    Yeah, fine…but first… she tilted her head down to look at her naked form.

    What? Don’t you want to make a good first impression? the voice said, thoroughly amused. A silence ensued from the Shade. Oh fine…that way.

    Thank you… she thought back, then grinned humorously and added, …tramp, as she headed the indicated direction.

    ---

    Deep in the heart of winter’s chill, hidden beneath layer over layer of ice, snow, and frozen rock, Malek paced in front of his twisted collection. The chilled assortment of creatures frozen in horrific postures of pain and suffering ranged in a wide array of fantastic shapes, sizes, and forms where they lined the corridor and were accompanied by an elaborate assortment of odd trinkets displayed on pedestals or frozen in columns of ice. If there was one thing the Ice Lich enjoyed more than anything, it was his collection. However, as with most collectors, he wasn’t satisfied. Some of his specimens were of poorer quality than he would have liked, or worse yet were in less than mint condition. True to his art, he found that wouldn’t do. In fact, it rather bothered him; at least as much as an unfeeling, literally cold-hearted person such as himself could be ‘bothered’.

    That was when the idea first came to him and he was reminded of a tavern he had traversed to in his travels on occasion. A tavern where such a wide selection of creatures existed that he would have a pick of the best from the best. Of course, that wasn’t what enticed him the most.

    Gliding over the icy floor of the cavern, the ice lich strode past his collection and surveyed his samples. He couldn’t say he hadn’t had some measure of ‘fun’ as he thought back over how he had acquired each one. Some had been slaves that he once had before deciding they were more a nuisance than a boon. Others had been foolhardy heroes looking for a name for themselves, or worse yet the heroes who came looking to free the other heroes (he made a sound of disgust at the thought). And then there were the few adversaries he had overcome, taking them as trophies of his victory, after all there was much more appeal to having a gigantic, frozen statue of a white dragon to remember the battle as opposed to, say, taking a fang or claw to remember…and the frosty drake’s scales did go so well with the scenery. At the same time, though, Malek was remembering how little challenge he’d felt in those victories. It was easy to find a specimen which could be easily overcome when you had honed your hunting skills for centuries, but finding the creature that would be a worthy trophy, that was more difficult and made the reward so much sweeter. Yes, the challenge of it was what enticed him the most, and so as he glided across the frozen paths of the cavern, he began to formulate a plan.

    "Oh, this will be most delicious…" he mused to himself.

    ---

    If there was one place the Shade was familiar with, at least in vague memory, it was here.

    The Crossroads Tavern suited its name. It was positioned where two roads met near the outlying edge of Ford’s Keep by the Selitan River, but more so than that, it held a multitude of portal keys leading to all manner of planes and destinations. That was what attracted the odd company that found solace within its walls.

    Pushing open the door, the Shade made her way in towards the bar, taking up a stool as she waited for the bartender to take her order.

    It’s all so familiar… she mused to herself.

    And yet it’s odd to see it through your own eyes, isn’t it, drifted the sultry voice sharing her thoughts.

    The Shade scowled. The more time I spend with you, the less I like this deal…

    Hmm, that’s too bad. You heard what your god said.

    Indeed she had, and she doubted she would soon forget the feeling of being in his presence. Her skin had crawled and knitted with goosebumps, her legs had lost all strength and gave way beneath her, and the sight of the demonic dragon, Ashardalon in all his deific glory, was seared into her memory. In that moment she knew terror and vulnerability and helplessness to an extent that what she had inflicted on her previous host was minuscule in comparison. Another tremor ran through her skin at the thought, and she sighed in defeat. You’re right; however I’m not the only one with an end of the bargain to be kept. Looks like we’ll have to learn to live with each other for now.

    No reply, but at the same time she got the sense that the other soul was smirking gleefully.

    Picking up the whiskey she had ordered from the stone golem behind the bar, she twisted in her seat, and that was when she saw it. A small statuette carved in a perfect resemblance of herself set on a table within the crowd to where she couldn’t miss it. She was intrigued, even though her gut warned her that something was amiss, so she shifted her glance to the man occupying the table. He was clothed in a robe of light, icy blue decorated with patterns of snowflakes barely visible as they seemed to drift across the cloth, a hood shading the upper half of his face to where only frostbitten skin of his chin and mouth showed. She watched him for a moment as he traced his frosty fingers around the sculpture, the ice bending to his whim as it spread out into the shape of a dragon.

    It was enough, for with a sneer the Shade pushed away from the bar, striding easily to the table, and smashed her fist through the ice with a glare of contempt, the tinkling sound of the shards attracting a few curious glances. “What the hell do you think you’r-uhn…” A weak groan escaped her lips as an uncomfortable shudder ran through her body, like the prickling of a thousand needles on frost-numbed flesh.

    The icy figure grinned back at her, his voice ringing like an arctic gale. “I wouldn’t suggest you do that again.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Fascinating…now tell me, why would a creature such as yourself hide in such an…inadequate form.”

    Inadequate? the voice in her head boiled before she blocked it out, narrowing her eyes. She had more pressing issues to worry about. Did the ice lich know what she was? Why else would he have shown her as a dragon, the last remnant aside from memories that she had retained from her previous host. Steadying her voice, she retorted calmly, “What do you want exactly?” ignoring the groan about being ‘too serious’ from her inner counterpart.

    “You are a rather beguiling specimen,” he said, pulling the broken shards back together with a wave of his hand. The statuette of her looked as if it had never been broken. “You should spruce up my collection nicely.”

    The Shade scoffed. “Right…sorry, bud. I’m not a collector’s item,” and turned to walk away.

    “Then I guess I’ll just have to do something about that,” the ice-lich replied with a grin, taking the icy statue in hand with a whisper of arcane words.

    Seconds later, both of them vanished…

    ---

    Malek grinned triumphantly as he tightened his grip on the woman’s throat. She was a perfect first specimen. A dragon in disguise, and there was a hint of something else about her. A second presence perhaps or just a tainted touch on her life. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it made her unique. Victoriously he pinned her against the tree nearby - the clearing behind the tavern was ringed with them – and watched as he fed the chill in the air around him, her skin slowly starting to freeze beneath his touch as she struggled.

    “Wait!” she cried. “Wait, I can help you!” Her breath rasped with the chill creeping towards her lungs, very soon to silence her, but he paused, the chill in the air become less intense.

    “I’m listening.”

    Thankfully she drew in a few breaths, filling her lungs with the warmer air before she spoke. “You want a collection? I’ll help you. I know a few prime targets, and a way to double your rewards. I want something in return, though.”

    “You’re not in a position to bargain.”

    The woman grinned at him, her voice deepening. “Am I?” Her eyes shifted, the acidic green melting away into a frightening yellow-gold with a slitted iris. Malek sneered and went to tighten his grip, only to find thin air. “Over here, Frosty,” she taunted, perched comfortably to his left.

    Malek scowled. “Impressive, I must admit… Very well, I’m listening.”

    “Well, turning people into ice sculptures is a good start, but why stop there? Turn it into a game of cat and mouse. Lure their loved ones into a game field of your design and watch the chase. Could be fun,” she finished with a smirk.

    “Hmmm, indeed. And what do you want out of it exactly?”

    “Aside from not becoming a statue? I have a target in mind for you. A little retaliation to enact and I think you hold the perfect key to put that into motion. So, I’ll help you pick your targets and lure them in, and in exchange I get to play a little game of revenge. Do we have a deal?”

    Malek thought of the possibilities for a moment, the wheels turning in his head. “What are you called?”

    The woman’s brow shot skeptically and she shook her head. “Alright then, we’ll play this your way. You can call me…Irilym.”

    Malek mused for a moment. An interesting name, but either way it gave him what he needed. “Very well, Irilym. I accept your offer.” He slid a hand into his robe retrieving the frozen statue to let it lie in the palm of his hand, closing his fingers around it. “However, I don’t think I have to explain what will happen if you double-cross me.”

    Irilym rolled her eyes. “Oh keep your robes on, I’ve got something to gain from this as well.”

    A confused look crossed the lich’s face. “My robes are… off?”

    “Nevermind,” Irilym sighed. “Consider us partners then,” she said, extending a hand. The lich took her hand in his own, the layer of frost on his skin crackling with each small motion.

    “Partners…”