EPILOGUE: WARLOCK, TIME ELUDES YOU
Time passed.
He knew that he was not precisely a mage any more. His search for answers had taken him too far. Although he still practised the work of a mage, the darkness he explored with his powers, the demons he summoned, conferred a new, secret title upon him. Warlock.
They were the only caste who dared, who would, manipulate something as precious, as holy, as the soul.
It was fair. An unusual question led to an unusual answer, at least until he found an answer. He was a magical explorer, not merely a scientific practitioner. He went astray because one must leave the path to discover new things.
Evil is attractive for its innocence. To cast off consequence was to be a child again. But he didn't need it. To be a warlock was to pass beyond it, in order to cast better perception on the question. Not about what you should or should not, but what is and what will be. The former was blind obedience; the latter was… invention.
But he did not seek the answers of the grave. The necromancers with their blighted hands, and promises of a land beautiful and untouched by life and its ravages, the serenity of an empty vessel. He wanted the pure, ignited fire of a soul that would never wane. If he were to die, he would have gained nothing, just another shambling corpse in the legion of the dead. And that is not what he wished. He wished to remain free. To be his own master, against all powers that be.
To seek immortality was said to be the province of the wicked, but if he harmed only his own soul, what evil did it bring? Could he not sacrifice to himself, as well as another?
Still, he did not say he would not harm another being. But it was important to put these things in their proper place.
He pursed his lips, and summoned his, what he supposed would be a familiar. Although he had not given it a name, it often made a noise like "poog poog poog", which he thought might be its own name for itself. He wasn't ready for something that undignified to touch his tongue, however. He might be old, but that didn't mean he was tasteless.
The imp erupted into existence in a flash of light and cloud of smoke which likely originated from wherever… the imp's… home plane was.
The imp wasn't smart, but it was still a demon, and it served him faithfully. It was at least a beginning. But he didn't have time for beginnings. This world had failed him, and he must reach into others.
(*)
He rested. And stared at the ceiling.
Perhaps tomorrow he would try again.
THE END
