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The Lighthouse doors were open, Taash’s guttural roars echoed within the stone while the Veilguard rushed into motion. Wisps dashed in frantic pace as the astrolabe turned above the storm, and on the second floor, first hall on the right, the clatter of bones and scratch of a pen sounded soft against the pained cries from the left halls.
“Manfred. If you could make haste.” The finished missive in hand, Emmrich stood straight from a lean at his desk and motioned for the skeleton.
“Haste.” A confident hiss ran the undercurrent. Manfred loped a few steps over before standing uncommonly still, a gleam in the green of his eyes.
“Exactly. Keep steady, directly to Myrna, await her directions.”
Every word precise, every syllable crisp, but the words shook in Emmrich’s throat. The extended missive wavered midair. Manfred locked his gaze on the necromancer.
“Steady.” Hiss absent, he took hold of the letter and Emmrich’s hand all at once. Manfred clasped tight, and his jawbone dropped, a slow hissing hush escaping the skull like a breath.
Emmrich blinked, eyes wide a moment as the breath he held unwittingly broke free. The trembling went still as he brought his other hand to cover Manfred’s. He closed his eyes, deliberately filling his lungs. They held tight for a moment, no care for the crumpled paper between their fingers. Emmrich exhaled, the air leaving his body in a series of shakes, but stillness in its wake.
Breath even, eyes opening slow, a green spark woke in the depths of their warmth.
“Good lad. Lucanis and Spite are waiting at the eluvian, they’ll see you home. Assist Myrna and Vorgoth as they ask and return with the items requested.”
Emmrich gave the skeleton’s hand a last firm squeeze before turning away, his mind busy running the needed incantations before their utterance.
“Home!” Manfred’s hiss returned to color the word, cloaking it in determination and understanding as he took off running down the hall, “Rook! Home!”
Manfred missed the last glance Emmrich shot over his shoulder. Wouldn’t have noticed the welling in the necromancer’s eyes, or the hands tightly pressed together. A breath in through the nose and out past the lips, the pained expression flitted away and his body relaxed again. The green embers of before flashing now.
Emmrich stripped his coat and let it fall as he turned to the spiraling staircase. Teeth grit but once, brow furrowed a moment, he set his back straight and took great strides up to the balcony. At the first step he set his hands in motion, began the low incantations. Green sprites danced while he orchestrated patterns in the air, and by the time he reached the heights, the tower itself was awash in spectral flame.
His voice called out deep across the Fade, enchantments lilting as the thrum of great movements echoed in time to his chant.
The Lighthouse’s protective bubble wrinkled, slowly crumpled in towards Emmrich. It was as if he stood on the ocean’s floor, his fingertips the epicenter of a thin hairline funnel that swirled, stretched, and grew into an encompassing whirlpool that expanded out into the greater Fade.
The towers tumbling in air groaned, paused, as the necromancer’s voice thundered out from the foundations of the lighthouse itself. Flickers of spirits began to appear and dance in the sway. A trickle of tens soon became a flood of hundreds to thousands. Spirits and more of every color, size, and form thronged buzzing and darting, flowing, sparking, and singing as they filled the sky and very being of the air, darting between the folds of the Fade itself half in and out of sight.
Emmrich brought his hands together with a deafening crack. The flashes of magic responded, the twisting of the Fade keening in reply as its movements slowed to glacial pace to hang on his words.
“Rook,” he meant to say more, but their name caught in his throat. The swell of spirits now held still, patient, knowing. Emmrich clung to the railing, swept his gaze across the gathered tumult, and seemed, impossibly so, to perceive every last one.
Drawing to his full height, hands clasped tight, his voice called out, calm yet bellowing, “Dearest friends, Rook has vanished, I need your assistance locating them!”
Like fireworks they dispersed in color and motion, countless beings speeding away and in and throughout as the search began. The near Fade thrummed, the whirling magic accelerating as if carrying his message. The bend in the bubble creaked, the wrinkles in its surface spreading throughout. Long moments it held there, the indent reaching out almost achingly towards the necromancer.
Emmrich flicked his hands, and the bubble snapped back in reply. The recursive rebound sent out his conjuration in great drumming reverberating waves. Whatever he’d done would echo far across the Fade. The protective bubble went smooth with a shiver.
Emmrich collapsed, the shiver of the bubble nothing compared to the trembling overtaking him as he melted to his knees. A hushed whisper escaping his lips,
“Please…”