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It's funny how you ignored the first rule of magic.
No, of course not the rules of witches' magic. Their rule would be something like "hide away and pretend you're so much better than everyone else as the world burns around you," wouldn't it? But you already know that, don't you.
I speak of the first rule of conjurers. Illusionists. Fakes. You're one of those too, aren't you? Though not a very good one. Maybe if you were, you'd never have gotten yourself into this predicament.
Here is the rule, since you clearly haven't been taught it:
If you can see it happening, it isn't the real trick.
Yes, I'm speaking of Cub. Obviously. He did make quite the show. I'm proud of him, to be honest. He did better than any of us ever expected. But he was never the main attraction. Not even a test, really. Just another bit of legerdemain to keep all of you distracted. And it worked. Even the archaeologist was fooled. And he was supposed to be the smart one.
And what about you?
You were the one who led him into the fog in the first place.
Think about that, little witch.
Just whose idea was it for him to go there? Yours, of course. Or you'd really want to think that, anyway.
Here's another truth. I'm full of them today, I might as well keep going.
Sculk is patient. Ask yourself: How old are the ancient cities? No, older than that. They were sunk beneath rock and stone far before the gnomes even existed. Much less before that upstart Xornoth came through. The sculk has waited since the bones of the Titans themselves were fresh. It can certainly wait a few months.
Ah yes. You're getting it. Took you long enough. Honestly, if not for the fact you practically dropped into my lap, we would've chosen a better host. A god would've been fun. Or that princess. You call her Katherine, right?
Oh, don't give me that look. What's done is done. And who knows, she may come to spread our truth of sculk and souls at some point, too. One can only hope.
Here's another riddle for you, little witch: That great work you were planning, that masterpiece so magnificent even the other witches would accept you again. Bringing back a people that was dead and buried a millennium ago. Just whose idea was it, originally?
Yes, that is a nice story, isn't it? Comforting, even.
Another question: Just how did you end up in the gnomes' city in the first place?
Funny how you humans never question things like that. Not even when the answer is staring you right in your face. You go off to explore the shiny new mystery without even questioning who put it there. The magician waves his hand, but the trick has already been done. You understand now, don't you.
Here's another fact about sculk:
Sculk is subtle.
Sculk takes the living and non-living differently. Rock, stone, earth? All of those, it takes from the outside. A thin layer on top, and then, with enough souls, enough life, it permeates until nothing of the original remains. But you don't care about that. You've certainly seen enough of it in your time. Cub did his job well.
With the living, it's the opposite. Living beings would notice if we were to take them over like blocks. They fail to see the beauty of it. They destroy it, before it can even do its work. No matter. The living, sculk takes from within. It seeps inside, turning every bone and blood vessel into more of itself. Every heart. Every mind.
By the time you see it on the outside, it's too late.
You were wondering why I was telling this to you, weren't you?
As you run to get your potions, I'll tell you another secret about sculk.
You never freed Cub.
We let him go.