Chapter 11 – Serivhal

Chapter 11 – Serivhal

“My lord, the preparations are complete. Soon, Elysium will be ours…”

In a colorless gray space cut off from the flow of time, Serivhal, Lord of Ashen Eternity, sat on his Divine Throne, listening with half a mind as his mortal thralls’ reports came pouring in through his control network.

Life was inefficient, and the mortals fickle and prone to temptation. But they were what he had to work with, so Serivhal suffered their existence. For now.

He methodically catalogued threats, assessed possibilities, and laid down the foundations for his grand design.

His chess pieces moved into place, infiltrating human society under his instructions.

Unlike Liria Yggdris, who only had superficial knowledge of the coming three centuries through historical records, Serivhal had lived through this era. He knew all the opportunities, the hidden treasures, the unrecognized talents who could have become great. His information advantage was absolute.

Under his guidance, his pawns would rise to high positions and erode the mortal kingdoms from within. The world would be his yet.

A scream of terror drew Serivhal’s attention to one of his more carefully tended connections.

He looked through the eyes of a skeletal mage as a party of adventurers writhed under necromantic fire. Their screams soon died out, and they rose again as shuffling zombies, their faces slack, their movements guided entirely by the skeletal mage’s will. Which was, in turn, guided by his.

The skeletal mage pressed on into the Dungeon’s lower levels. The newly raised zombies followed in a shambling column. Good. His fledgling undead corps continued its slow and methodical Dungeon conquest, one corridor at a time.

The Dungeon was but one of many. Serivhal’s erosion of the land would begin in the world’s deepest places. The mortals will never notice until it’s too late.

He reflected on the past month.

Waking to find himself outside time was unpleasant, but at least he could not be erased. In the future Liria Yggdris had denied, Serivhal had usurped the dead god, its power forming his Divine Throne. Now, in this altered past, every prayer to that god flowed to him, sustaining his Time Stop indefinitely.

He was far from powerless. Faith ran both ways. Those who prayed opened themselves to his influence, whether for empowerment or manipulation. As Lord of Undeath, all unliving things were linked to him, and through them he could see. The undead born from his other half were the most useful, and these he could control outright.

The green flames in Serivhal’s eyes flared erratically. The existence of his other half had been the most unpleasant surprise.

When Serivhal first woke up in this timeless realm, the first thing he felt was hollow emptiness. He was power and knowledge unmoored from existence, and when he reached for his missing anchor, Serivhal had found all that he hated. All that he thought he had left behind.

He barely remembered his mortal days as Seris, but surely he, the Lich King Serivhal, could never have been such a pathetic and miserable wretch. Something must have gone wrong when time rewound. That was the only explanation.

Curse you, Liria.

He had tried, at first.

Tried to guide the boy. To teach him. To show him the futility of clinging to mortal conceits.

Listen. Serivhal had whispered into the child’s mind. Everything you suffer is proof. Strength is the only truth.

The response had been… disappointing.

“Go away! Go away!” the child had screamed, curling into himself, hands clamped over his ears as if that could block a voice inside his own head.

Serivhal had watched.

Watched him dig through refuse. Watched him flinch under blows. Watched him endure humiliation after humiliation without learning anything of value.

A wasted effort.

So he abandoned him.

The child was a doomed investment anyway. Soon, Liria Yggdris would wake, and the moment she did, his other half would die.

He had no illusions about this. This era was three hundred years before Liria Yggdris’s proper awakening, and doing so would cost her, but he had no doubt that she would wake.

Little did she know that he had already outplayed her.

Serivhal was beyond her reach, and losing his other half would be a minor inconvenience. Seris’s power would scatter at death—imperfect, but a fair trade to be rid of that sniveling personality. He could always raise the boy as undead later, perhaps even refine him into a suitable vessel.

For now, Serivhal would use him. The thought grated, but they were two halves of one whole. The undead born from Seris’s rampaging power were uniquely attuned to him, extensions of his will. Each night, as the child slept, Serivhal unleashed that power through their bond, seeding the world with undead avatars.

That was what he would miss most once his other half died.

And die he would. It was time.

Through his necromantic nexus, Serivhal felt vast swathes of undead stationed closest to Seris being annihilated in an instant. Liria Yggdris had come to finish what she started.

Serivhal felt a faint anticipation stir within him. His other half’s dead body would make for prime crafting material. He’d put it to good use.

The world had gone mad.

An entire day had passed, but his other half was somehow still alive.

Serivhal watched with morbid fascination through Seris’ eyes as the child practiced his letters for the very first time. Every moment chipped away at his sanity, but Serivhal couldn’t bring himself to look away.

What is this miserable thing writing? Where is your pride?

“My big sis is the best big sis in the world! I love my big sis! We’ll be together forever! My big sister is the most beautiful big sis in the entire world! My big sis is a Goddess…”

The words burned themselves into his mind like a brand, and Serivhal felt as if his very soul was being violated. It was bad enough that his other self had rejected him, but the ignorant child was now sitting in the lap of his greatest enemy, singing her praises with guileless joy.

This cannot stand.

Liria Yggdris continued to brush his younger self’s head, and the sound of his giggle felt to Serivhal as if the world was ending. It shouldn’t be possible for such a sound to come from those lips.

His other self finally turned around and looked up at his nemesis with adoring eyes.

The Incarnation of the Goddess sat radiant under the morning light, her gentle smile unchanged from the last time he saw it. To Serivhal’s eyes, that smile now seemed full of mockery.

Humiliation burned white hot within him. It was not enough for Liria Yggdris to undo all his work, she was now keeping his younger self around as some kind of… pet.

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This cannot stand.

He was tempted to just end it. Seize control for a single moment and ignite all the mana within the witless child in a furious blaze of retribution. Turn the child into a human bomb.

Serivhal forcefully clamped down on the impulse; doing so would reveal his hand. Liria Yggdris had no idea he existed yet, and Serivhal planned to keep it that way.

He cut the connection, and redirected his attention to worthier tasks. No matter what his fawning other self did, as long as he could not see it, then it wouldn’t wear at his sanity.

He watched through an attendant’s eyes as the Lord of Elysium collapsed in his study. The devout zealot’s face was pale and haggard, worn down by tragedy and countless sleepless nights. But Serivhal would grant him no rest, not even in this moment of unconsciousness.

He reached out and sent him another carefully calibrated nightmare. The weak, fallible mortal stirred fitfully in his sleep, weeping as he cursed his Goddess.

“I gave you my everything! What more could you possibly want? Goddess of Light, how is this justice? Why have you forsaken me?”

Serivhal allowed himself a nod of satisfaction. The Lord of Elysium’s corruption was proceeding according to schedule. All was as he willed it.

The existence of his other half gnawed at his mind, curdling even this moment of triumph.

Why couldn’t the child bow like everyone else? What fresh indignity was the whelp unleashing now, when he wasn’t watching?