The walls of my chamber were cold and lifeless like everything else in this undead kingdom. No lively market, no children running through the streets. Just an eerie feeling throughout it all. At one time Morte didn't mind it. He even found it peaceful but now it was a constant reminder of everything he couldn't have.
He pushed his thoughts of turmoil to the back of his mind and began to focus on the mana circle he was etching into the wyvern leather rug. Although he knew it was a costly item he was planning to make it a reuseable if everything worked the way he had planned. He watched carefully as he directed mana into each etching painstakingly. Each symbol something to boost not only his mana intake but to also hold back some of the overabundant Necrotic mana. other symbols were just to help the user from becoming fatigued. He had the symbols for focus, quiet, warded, privacy and many most mages would find wasteful, but he had studied each and woven them together in such a way that not only did they all flow in harmony, but they also helped boost the other effects.
Hours had passed by the time he had finished and all that was left was to place a mana crystal in the slot in line with the runic symbols that were etched in a circle around the outer edge of the rug. The center had enough room for him to sit comfortably in the middle.
Morte made his way to the center and sat crossing his legs as he did so and took up a meditative pose as he tuned out all distractions and focused on the mana that surrounded him. Instantly he could feel the symbols light up and begin to do their job. In no time he had a perfectly balanced input of mana. Necrotic mana no longer heavily outweighed the others. It was a success he no longer had to stop and let the buildup of necrotic mana bleed out from his core. He begun to pull the now balanced mana inside the circle into his core and let it spin as he pulled more in compressing the mana tighter and tighter with every breath by the time his core was full, he could feel a slight ache in his chest. It was the telltale sign that he was at his limit.
With his mana now full he shut down the runes and put the remainder of the power left into a mana stone he had nearby. He stood up and stretched his legs hopping up and down to stretch his muscles. Thanks to his body being of the 5th tier now the majority of hi wounds from his fight were long healed. As soon as I stepped of the rug Null spoke up immediately.
"That took forever couldn't you let me sit in there with you next time,"
Morte couldn't help but chuckle considering Null was currently in the form of a black cat with black fog falling off of him like a cloak. "My poor little kitty cat"
Null hissed and swiped at my leg "You and i both know i do this for the same reason you meditate it allows me to regrow my mana reserves while using the minimal amount. Anyways next time try taking more deep breaths while your pulling mana in. Keep in mind that we were taught by the undead but were not dead so there's probably some things we could do that would be more beneficial to you at the least."
"Yes, oh wise master what would i ever do without the input of my mighty cat" Morte chuckled at his own sarcasm.
Null huffed and hopped down from his perch where he was laying on the bookshelf.
Morte moved over to the window as Null followed behind. Morte stopped and gazed out the window looking down as all the lower tieer undead moved about their task with perfect precision. It was the Perfect city. Atleast that's what the Lich King said. Morte on the other hand couldnt help but feel like it was missing the one thing it would never have. Life or atleast the presence that those who lived brough with them knowingly.
"Morte are you okay?" Null asked softly
"I'm fine," he said. "I Just need rest."
A beat passed. Then, "Kyris wouldn't have approved of that trial," He continued quietly. "Not the old Kyris. The real one."
"The one who made tea and told you ghost stories at night?" Null asked. "No. He wouldn't have. He would've stood in front of the Skeleton King and told him to burn the whole Empire instead."
I didn't reply right away. That version of Kyris still lived in my mind, even if the current one walked these halls with his smile scrubbed clean.
"He told me once," Morte murmured, "that power is never enough. That to wield magic well, you have to understand what it doesn't give you."
"That sounds like something a sentimental butler would say."
"It sounds like something Ive forgotten," He said.
Null jumped lightly onto the edge of the window seal, tail curling like smoke. "Then remember it. You're strong, Morte fifth-tier, by Empire standards. Advanced. Less than a half of mages ever get that far.".
"You fought a sixth-tier," he continued, "but he was a soldier of the past. Heavily enchanted but he still was still missing something that the undead don't have. That drive to survive no matter what. You've yet to even start your training on the battles of the courts" Null finished
Morte opened both eyes now. Mana still drifted lazily in the room, waiting for command. "You think I don't know this. Null i know full too well that i have so much to learn especially when it comes to the wars fought in the courts. I will learn everything that they will teach me and when the time is right ill use it all against them. The king may say I'm free to do as i wish but we both know that is a lie. He keeps me and uses me because i am another chess piece for him to move on his board."
"Morte I am not critiqued you for anything you've done i believe all well that noone else is capble of handling the things youve handled since you've begun learning magic. I think you're young. Your only thing you lack is experience. I just fear the King will take you off the board before you get that experience. Youre poweful without a doubt Morte but your magic is still... loud. Instinctive. Not yet elegant."
Morte knew Null wasn't wrong. In the duel, he'd cast spells that barely held together. They had worked, yes. But they hadn't flowed. They'd obeyed me, not danced with me. And I'd felt the strain of that dissonance with every breath.
"There's inefficiency in how people cast," Morte spoke after a brief moment of silence. "Even the sixth-tier. The whole framework is flawed. Designed to be teachable, repeatable. Like scaffolding—useful, but clumsy. There's no room for individuality. For instinct. Or soul."
Null's ears perked up. He loved theoretical conversations as much as Huff especially when it was something neither of them had seen or heard anywhere else before. Like there research into the Wyvern rug they had made. "Go on."
Morte Walked over to his desk and began to draw on paper and Null hopped up to get a better look.
"Magic isn't just structured language," He said. "It's emotional architecture. Mana doesn't only respond to formulas it responds to intent. To identity. Each soul is shaped differently. Even the undead. Even me."
Null was quiet for a long moment. "That's very you."
"Is it wrong?"
"No." His voice shifted not mocking, not amused. Just... still. "Just unsettling. You're starting to sound like someone who might rewrite the very laws of magic that's been teaching us."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe that's the only way to move forward." Morte stopped talking as he felt another presence then he froze.
"We're not alone."