There was a tremendous rushing sound in my ears like a vacuum sucking away air. My limbs were folded over each other, wrapping around themselves painfully. Bright lights of shifting colors blinded me as I tumbled through wherever I was. All at once, all of it stopped.
I moaned in pain, sucking in a breath… Why was I doing that? I groaned as I realized the answer. I had two sets of memories about how I'd arrived here. It happened again.
The first set of memories was mundane, a foolish nobody that was sucked through a portal moments before being hit by a car. The only notable thing about him was… Well that was very interesting.
The mundane part of me recognized the mystical part. Evidently, it was a 'roleplaying character' he had created for a game of Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous. A Level 20 Cruoromancer, Mythic 10 lich. Yes, things lined up rather strangely.
My mystical memories were a first person perspective of that very 'playthrough'. I remembered everything – awakening in a strange body wondering what had become of my mother, falling back on the summoning and conjuration magic I was so proficient in before. Meeting my master Zacharias and the subsequent lessons I learned from him. The people I fought for either abandoning or attacking me when they could not stomach what was necessary to destroy the Worldwound. Meeting my mother again and finally convincing her she had succeeded. That was the last moment I recall. My mother and I had just embraced. She moved to sacrifice herself for me to close the Worldwound, but I stopped her. Drawing the sword that was once Radiance from my hip and throwing my phylactery into the Wound to fool the magic. A phylactery could be replaced in time, and I was not willing to lose my mother again. It worked, but I was swept up by the Worldwound during its explosive end, leading me to have another soul stitched to mine and my current location. Actually, where was I?
I tried to move to take in my surroundings, but I could not. I was restrained somehow. My head was pinned against a thick piece of wood, almost like a root. I couldn't turn around or see anything beyond the root. I needed to free myself. I was a lich, and a lich was not so easily trapped.
I summoned my magic, calling up a searing blast of flame to destroy the root in front of me. My magic was sucked away from me the moment I called for it. I tried again, only to feel the same result. This was a problem.
"You will not free yourself from this prison. It has entrapped me for many winters." an echoing voice like that of an elderly woman said.
"There is someone else here?" I called, ceasing my struggle in favor of seeking information. If another was similarly trapped, perhaps they would be amenable to working together to escape?
"Yes. This is my prison. You should not be here, fleshless thing. How did you come here?" the voice demanded. I felt the bindings around me creak as a source of deadly power pulsed, only to be absorbed by the same defense that siphoned away my magic.
"My transit was not intentional. I was pulled through a rift between worlds as it closed. Where am I?" I asked, offering the truth in the hopes my neighbor would do the same.
"You are in my prison. The world beyond is lost to you now, fleshless thing."
"Forgive me if I do not accept that. I have escaped inescapable prisons before." This tangle of roots was likely a vacation in comparison to the Ineluctable Prison.
The roots pinned me in place, siphoning away my magic and preventing me from moving, but I was a lich. I would not be entrapped by any living thing.
Negative energy erupted from my body as I called upon one of a lich's natural abilities. It was not quite magic, so I had hoped the roots would not prevent it. I was half-successful. The roots wrapped around me withered and died. I leapt free from the cocoon I had been trapped in and began to cast Dimension Door to whisk myself away. The spell was sucked away as larger, thicker roots colored like burned flesh rose from the ground to wrap around me, knocking my legs out from under me and forcing me into a restrained kneeling position, my head angled down, my arms held out at my sides. The roots were far more numerous and constricting than they were previously, I couldn't even struggle because they were wound so tightly. I blasted the roots with negative energy once more, but they were not affected this time. It had adapted to my power. How annoying.
"A futile effort, fleshless. I congratulate you on your meager progress, but you will not leave this place. I have tried for so many winters."
My change in position did not grant me my freedom, but it did allow me to see the cage I was trapped in. The ground around me was mostly pale dirt with thin patches of grass and other flora spotted around the area. The roots made up the walls and ceiling, twisting around each other and isolating us from the world. An arch in the roots leading to open air and a night illuminated by the light of the moon mocked me. It was less than twenty meters from me, but I was unable to so much as inch towards it. Now I knew how Bane felt.
I looked down with my eyes, scanning over my person to ensure my belongings were transported to this loathsome prison with me. I let out a relieved sigh when I saw everything I had when I fell through the Worldwound was still with me. The Bag of Holding with my scrolls and potions was pinned to my side. The robe Zacharias gifted to me still clung to my body. Fineean's silenced form rested in its dagger form, sheathed at my hip across from the empty longsword sheath my phylactery once occupied. My crown, my necklace, my rings, my boots, my belt – I had it all. The problem laid in the fact I was unable to use any of it. I was too tightly bound to even shift towards my items.
I looked up once more and finally realized what I had been talking to this entire time. A bulbous, misshapen mass of pulsing orange flesh with spines jutting out of its body was confined by the roots just as I was. I felt a dull throbbing of energy in the area around me with each pulse of the orange blob's flesh. I recognized this infernal creature.
My mood brightened as I realized where I was. I could not be certain when, but a man would come and I would have my chance to be free. If I could not discover another way to free myself before then, I had information to leverage for my freedom that he would not refuse.
"Do you have a name?" I asked the pulsing blob conversationally.
"Why does the fleshless thing care?"
"We may very well be trapped here together for a long time. It would be a shame not to converse with the only companion available, wouldn't you agree?"
The blob made a sound I approximated to humming thoughtfully, but it was more akin to the scream of a goat. "My name is forgotten."
"Then I will call you Umoya. It is a pleasure to meet you, Umoya. My name is Astriek. Would you tell me your story?"
"…You will share your story after." The spirit in the mass of flesh said, her tone of voice making it sound like an order rather than a request.
"As you wish, Umoya. Now tell me your story."
"…My story begins many winters ago, when I first came to this place. I begot three daughters who guarded the forest, and together we…"
X
The spirit finished her story after a short few days. It needn't have taken as long to tell as it did, but I was grateful for the distraction from my imprisonment. Her story was a simple one if she was to be believed, and I had no reason to believe she was lying.
The spirit traveled to this world from a place far away during a time of joining. She settled in the region surrounding the tree that was our prison and took to helping the people here. She raised three daughters to aid her in safeguarding the forest. In time, the three daughter's avarice grew. They believed they should be the new stewards of the forest, and so betrayed their mother, assisting the people in destroying her body. They used their foul magic to trap their mother's spirit before it could flee. That was how she wound up in the tree.
As I said, it was not a story that needed three days to tell, but what else was I supposed to do? Every attempt I'd made to free myself during that time had met with failure, and I was out of ideas. It was time to settle in for the long haul, and when all you could do to stave off boredom was talk, that was what you did.
"I have spun my tale. It is your turn, fleshless!" Umoya demanded, she still would not call me by my name. She had not seemed to take offense to the name I'd given her, so I had continued using it.
"How much of my tale do you desire to hear, Umoya? I could start from when I became 'fleshless'."
"The beginning! You will tell me all!"
"Very well. This will take some time."
I told her my tale, beginning at my first death at the hands of prejudiced mage hunters. I told her of my mother's experiments, of how she used herself as a test subject to find a way to bring me back. I told her of the Worldwound and the ensuing calamity that befell Avistan and greater Golarion as a whole. Umoya listened without comment as I detailed my rebirth, though I was circumspect about the details of my joined soul. Barks of disgust were frequent as I spoke of meeting Zacharius and the many lessons he taught me that culminated in my ascension to lichdom. The Fifth Crusade's campaign against the demons drew her attention keenly, rapt silence hanging in the air as she clung to every word. I told her everything that would not allow her to harm me – like the details of my soul – and finished with my reunion with my mother where we were separated once more. The tale took two days to tell. It should not have taken so long, but Umoya and I broke out into arguments about what was necessary to best the demons during my description of Zacharias's lessons. It seemed she was not overly fond of undead. Ironic, given she was technically undead herself.
"What shall we discuss now?" I asked, having finished my story and desiring to continue speaking to alleviate boredom. Neither of us require sleep, so we were subject to twenty-four uninterrupted hours of imprisonment every day. I did not want to spend that time in silence.
"Silence. We shall have silence for today. Your presence has interrupted the only pleasant thing of my prison. We will be silent today."
"As you wish, but you will tell me more of this world and what it was like prior to your imprisonment tomorrow."
"I agree. Now…silence."
I stopped talking and let myself relax. I didn't require sleep, but I could still partake if I so desired. I would let her have her silence today, then converse more with her tomorrow. I sensed there was much to learn from a being as ancient as her, and she was imprisoned directly in front of me. I doubted she would be terribly against the idea of alleviating her boredom with the occasional conversation. There was no telling how long I would be stuck here, and I would prefer to use that time as productively as I possibly could.
X
The laboratory was being torn apart. Priceless magical tomes and enchanted crystals were thrown to the ground by uncontrolled, enraged magic. Projects that had taken decades to reach their current point were destroyed in a fit of unrestrained fury.
"No!" A screeching wail echoed off the walls. A blast of power surged forth from the woman into another priceless artifact, sundering it without a thought. Her typically immaculate scarlet dress was wrinkled and burned. Her well-kept hair was knotted and manic. Her calculating, intelligent eyes were red and creased in savage hate.
"My lady…" a small demon colored like a tanned animal hide said carefully, slowly approaching the furious sorceress. "It's–
"Aaagh!" the woman screamed, blasting a hole in the wall of her lab, a shimmering blue liquid leaking onto the floor from a sundered beaker on the other side. "I lost him again!" Unrestrained demonic power exploded all around her, swirling through the air, seething with her enraged breathing.
"My lady…" the small demon started again. "You saved him once before. You can save him again."
The woman whirled on him, her hair whipping around to stick to her sweat and blood-coated face. "He is gone, Suture! The Worldwound–"
"The Wound closed when he threw his phylactery into it. I was there too, my lady. The phylactery closed the Wound. Astriek was sucked into the Wound after it started to close by some final effect of the Wound closing. It probably threw him through the planes."
The woman's rage disappeared in an instant, her eyes widening in realization. Now that the fog of anger had begun to clear, her powerful mind was making connections. The demon was right. Astriek kept her back, opting to sacrifice his phylactery so she would not lose her life. He had been confident a time would come where he could craft another after his soul had time to recover from the blow. After his phylactery was thrown into the vortex, a surge of uncontrollable magic could be felt in the air. That must have been what sucked him into the closing Worldwound. "He is not dead. His sacrifice closed the Wound. What happened after shunted him to another plane. I need to find him." The woman rushed to a half-crushed crystal on the ground, her wings tucking behind her as she picked it up and cast a divination spell. She huffed in irritation. "He is too far. I can't find his exact position."
"Then he'll have to wait a while, but you will find him, my lady. He's strong and hard to kill. He can take care of himself until you find him, and you will. No one knows more about the planes than you do."
"No. But there is another whose help will prove vital, who will be invested in this venture as much as I am. I must find Zacharias. Astriek likely left a means to contact the lich in his Ziggurat. Suture, we are going to Drezen." The woman's tone of voice brokered no room for argument. A shimmering door appeared in front of the woman. Both she and the Suture stepped through.
She emerged onto the street of a gloomy city. Undead walked the street. Clerics of necromantic gods preached proudly and openly. This was a city abandoned by the living. The woman paid none of it any mind, striding towards the dark gate leading to a glowing pyramid.
A pair of undead stepped into her path, crossing their polearms in front of her. "None but the master may enter." the decayed construct hissed at her.
"You will step aside and permit me entrance to my son's domain or I will destroy you." the woman growled, her earlier rage flaring up again as she flexed her Mythic power.
If it were possible for an undead to display a shocked expression, the expression on the faces of the two skeletons was it. "Great lady," the same one spoke as both bowed. "The master has long awaited your arrival."
The woman hadn't wasted a moment. The instant her path was unbarred, she walked between the skeletons, leaving them to pontificate at the empty air. The Ziggurat opened before her. A path of glowing stones and arcane symbols led her to a large, rectangular room. The room was occupied by many figures.
"The monster is dead!" a lithe, zombified woman said, a cruel smirk on her face as she glared up at an immaterial spirit whose size dwarfed her own. "Good riddance. I will now– Aaah!" the woman cut off with a cry, her body burning away under the effect of powerful, violent magic. After a short few seconds, there was not but ash left of the undead woman.
"Are there any others among you that wish my son harm?" the woman demanded, her eyes furious as she stepped through the ashes of the woman, scattering them into the air as some clung to the hem of her dress.
The intelligent undead in the room stared vacantly back at the woman. None of them spoke, nor seemed afraid of the woman.
"Thank you for getting rid of that insufferable bitch." another undead woman said dryly, her golden armor was dulled by shadows, its shine lost to despair.
The woman smirked as she looked at the undead. "The once great queen. I'm surprised to see you here."
"He showed me the truth. I will not claim I am fond of him, but he has my loyalty."
"That is enough." the woman said, making a note to ask her son how he came to claim the Queen of Mendev. The skeletal, unholy dragon in the room she already knew of. She felt when her control over the undead dragon Terendelev was lost, subsumed by her son's far greater mastery of Necromancy. He'd grown so strong. She couldn't have been prouder. He carved out his own path, a path she had not expected to be worthwhile, and thrived, etching his place in the planes.
"Why are you here, witch?" Hepzamirah, the spirit of Baphomet's daughter demanded. It made the witch's heart swell with pride to know her son had acquired such a servant.
"I am here to retrieve my son. How can I contact Zacharias?"
"We are able to contact the maker, mistress." a voice like a dozen overlapping whispers said.
The woman turned to a stone pillar in the center of the room, covered in arcane runes with skulls with glowing eyes affixed to its exterior. The woman had assumed the pillar was purely aesthetic upon first glance, but now that she focused on it, she could feel its power. Each of the skulls was sentient, their minds woven together to create a repository of sorts. She had never seen anything like it.
"What are you?" she demanded of the pillar.
"Our maker's first gift to our master. Our knowledge has served him well. Our master has added to us, made us more capable of serving him. If the master requires aid, we will assist. We are under standing orders to aid the Witch of the Worldwound in any capacity we can provided it does not harm the master or his goals. We will call for the maker, Areelu Vorlesh."
Emotions welled up in Areelu's chest. Had she not been so preoccupied manipulating the Demon Lords, she might have noticed that her son was whole. How much time had she lost because she did not watch him closely enough?
Areelu forced the emotions away. She had to focus now. When she retrieved her son, there would be time enough to make up for past mistakes.
"Call your maker." Areelu ordered.
"Yes, mistress."
It did not take long for Areelu to be sure the pillar's message was received.
"What is the meaning of this?" a man with no skin in dark robes said as he appeared inside the Ziggurat, a magical doorway closing behind him. "Who has called me?"
"I have." Areelu said, stepping forward to face the man.
The lich grew cautious. "Areelu Vorlesh. What do you want with me?
"Your apprentice, my son was sent hurtling through the planes as the Worldwound closed. I require your help to locate him."
The lich regarded her for a moment before shaking his head. "He has proven to be my most irritating pupil. But also the most competent. What do you know about his disappearance?"
Areelu smiled as she worked with the lich to determine exactly what happened. As their work progressed, Zacharias recommended bringing a third master magus into their deliberations – The Storyteller. If The Storyteller's presence hastened the retrieval of her son, Areelu would welcome his aid.
Hold on a little longer, Astriek. Your mother is coming.