Chapter Four
One Word, Aptly Written
Why hasn't the mortal returned yet? This is rather…frustrating. They should have returned by now. And I know for a fact that the mortal isn't dead…
I shrugged. I suppose I'll have to find another means of entertainment.
And I have the perfect idea in mind…
Is he asleep yet? Oh, good. He is asleep.
Time to have a little fun.
I slashed my hand through the air, and closed my dark eyes. I could feel the energy of The Void shifting around me, as I opened the line of communication.
"Hello there, Piero," I said, smiling. "It's been a long while since you and I last spoke. You must have been going mad, from a lack of ideas in these recent months. I'm here to fix that little dilemma of yours. I need you to do something for me. Something…important. Can you do that for me?"
Piero Joplin stared at me, eyes wide in his usual mixture of madness and fear. "Yes…Yes, of course. I can do anything you ask of me."
"How thoughtful of you. You see, I need you to create a box for me. But not just any kind of box. Cardboard won't suffice. I need a box made of the finest metals you can get your hands on. A box with numerous locking mechanisms, and a numerical code to grant its possessor success. Inside, there will be a message."
"But who is this box being made for?"
"You will more than likely be pleased about this," I replied. "It will be delivered to a…colleague of yours."
"And the message?" Piero asked, quizzically.
"The message is…"
…
I opened my eyes, dismissing our communication.
I'd look into the future, to see the outcome of the task I had asked of Piero, but where would the fun in that be?
I will await his hard work…
The box, once completed, was a work of arcane beauty. Piero Joplin is reliable in this way. The runes etched into the metal and the dead language left no doubt as to the origins of the package, which appeared in the subbasement of the Academy of Natural Philosophy after another appallingly botched and bloody ritual on the petitioner's part.
Much to my satisfaction, the petitioner spent day after day, night after night, solving the complex series of locks. He solved this puzzle far quicker than I would have liked. Though, I was pleased that the numerical code was perplexing him.
Nearly a month later, he had solved the puzzle.
I watched with some entertainment as he opened the box, such rapt anticipation upon his face.
And I smiled, laughing at his expression of utter dismay upon viewing its contents.
I always said that I would speak to Anton Sokolov if he became more…intriguing. Alas, he has not done so. Maybe he'll finally get the idea, after this lovely little message I've given him.
One word, aptly written.
Simple and precise.
Spelled out in large letters, constructed from the teeth of those he had sacrificed in my name…
"No."