A Bored Lich

Thomas swallowed his saliva. "If killing the gods is the secondary objective then...what's the main objective? What are you planning?"

"That's not for you poor, mindless Undead creatures to know," Doevm said, his voice oozing pent-up spite.

"Don't keep us in suspense here," Elero said. "This is serious. To think you almost turned down our help because you wanted us to live our own lives. I don't even think I can live my own life after hearing that."

Doevm raised his hand. "If you like I could use soulmana to-"

"Don't you dare," Elero hissed. "I don't want that voice of your soul, whatever it is, affecting my head."

"I won't," Doevm said.

"I know you won't but I still need to say it."

"So, the map," Thomas said. "It looks like a piece of wood, much less a scroll. How are we supposed to read it? Should we take it to some professional to have it restored?"

"I have my methods." Doevm gently pulled off the ribbon, its color faded from time. A small cloud of dust hit Doevm's nostrils like a wave. He closed his eyes and, for a moment, he was sitting in his old throne and studying the material of a newly discovered ruin. "Everyone, scoot back," he said as several magic circles of the air and water element formed around the scroll.

"Why?" Elero asked before the ribbon in Doevm's hand turned into ash and fell between his fingers. "It disintegrated?"

"Ancient parchment, while sealed, does age," Doevm explained. "Luckily, with a few dozen spells, I can control the moisture, rate of decay, dirt, ink, paper, tools, and steadiness." As if to emphasize his point, the cabin rolled over a bump that sent them an inch of their seats. The map flew into the center of the cabin and remained anchored between delicate, floating instruments.

Soft-tipped brushes brushed away the dust, then pairs of small razors cut into the ancient grime and peeled it away. Doevm paused at set intervals breathe and let the moisture absorb into the parchment's stiff fibers. A bead of sweat dripped off his chin and rolled around the controlled environment. Slow. Steady. Precise. 'If only I had more mana, then I could use a different method,' he thought. 'Then again there are a lot of spells I can't use anymore, or ever again.'

In a matter of minutes the map laid barren on the platform, looking like a paper that had been accidentally laundered. He copied the map and found eight total legacies, including the two already claimed. He sighed. 'I guess I expected something more. Jackal got his power, turning people into monsters, from the swamp, and I got my power of voice from the front lines. That takes care of all legacies in the Acrin kingdom. Vilbar has two more. Maybe I can swing by them on my way to the hero.' He went to put the maps away but Elero gestured to the back.

"There's something on the back of the original scroll," she said.

Doevm flipped the map over and sure enough there were lines of horrible handwriting. "This is more chicken scratch than literature," Cerlius muttered. He looked to the person on his left with a slight grin but Frey cocked his head to the side.

Doevm rubbed his forehead: "Sorry, I don't know where that came from." He swallowed his saliva and read the letter aloud: "To Cerlius and Doevm. For your commitment to the study of magic and the willpower to endure my crude lessons, this map is dedicated to both of you.

It is my hope that I've done my utmost to prepare you both for the world ahead without restricting your growth. As you both grow up from these little things I could hold in the palms of my hands to big, possibly-hairy men you'll realize that I can't give you everything you want, nor everything you need. Some things must be experienced firsthand, things you will never experience if you stay here, where it's safe and comfortable. You will take risks. You will fail. I know I did.

I don't know what your lives will be like in the future but my door, which will always be open for the both of you, is not it. Look around. Go somewhere. Do something. Make friends. Make enemies. Come back on occasion and tell me the stories you've lived. There are both beautiful and terrifying things in this imperfect world. What's important is to know what the world is like. You both live in it, and therefore you must live with its imperfections. However, with these gifts I've scattered throughout the world, may you both change the parts you don't like for the better. You don't need a prophecy to be a hero. Congratulation for your graduation.

Love, Maximus Draken."

'Stupid chicken scratch,' Cerlius thought. 'It hurts just looking at this crap.' The carriage's magical protections shook, as did Doevm's tools and lights before he was forced to let them disperse. With the darkness gone the group found themselves just outside the city gate, confronted by a land blanketed by glistening snow.

"P.S. Make sure to be extremely careful in places you don't know. There are a lot of indescribably strong people out there, both bad and good."

Doevm glanced out the back window and found among the many mountains touching the clouds, one that was sliced down the middle. It was a single, clean cut of Alexander's blade. Many had said that Alexander had used the Resistance as a demonstration of his power, but Doevm knew better. Such power, when among the top echelons of the world, was only to be expected.

Meanwhile, somewhere along Vilbar's shoreline...

Seawater crashed against a cliff-face, sending a chilly updraft to rustle a figure's blue hair. Radiant light pulsed along his sword's runes and outlined the goddess' image, engraved on his mithril shield. His two golden eyes reflected an approaching storm.

"William," a red-robed War Monk appeared in a flash of golden life essence and approached the figure. "The goddess has sent a message."

Will turned and bowed to his master. "What did she say?"

"Only a name: Doevm."