Lich observed Cassie with an amused glint flickering in the hollows of his skull. Twin azure flames danced within his eye sockets, casting a ghostly light as they shifted like sentient embers. Her appearance had changed in nightmare but even here, she remained striking. Beautiful, as always.
Once his previous mission was complete, the ancient spirit had embarked on another without pause. As Klaus's most formidable spirit, it was only natural that he would be dispatched to the North—to find and protect Cassia. Klaus might speak with the venom of an insufferable bastard, but his actions had always betrayed the truth more than his scathing words ever could.
So that's how it is, Lich mused silently, his gaze flickering with dry amusement. I was right all along… That shameless idiot really does love her, huh? Maybe—just maybe—after five years, he's finally ready to let someone else into that rotten heart of his. Good for him, I suppose. Aurora would never have wanted him to rot in that hollow shell he became after her death.
At the very least, he wasn't bedding every attractive woman who crossed his path anymore. Lich, frankly, was exhausted from severing Hemera's spiritual tether just so she wouldn't accidentally stumble upon one of Klaus's less-than-dignified escapades. It had been... tiresome.
Yes, this was a welcome change. At last, Klaus had begun focusing on something—someone—more meaningful than the cycle of killing, training, and indulging his darker impulses.
Cassie's expression remained inscrutable, but her eyes hidden behind cloth, betrayed her shock. Klaus's spirit… here? And not just any spirit, but the Lich—his strongest, deadliest. The one capable of killing Transcendents. Why send him here? Wouldn't Klaus be safer keeping such a weapon at his side?
She hesitated, brows furrowing with uncertainty. "You're… Lich, right?" she asked at last. "What are you doing here? Where's your master? Why would he send you to the North? It's… pointless. This place is already lost."
She hadn't expected a response. As far as she knew, Klaus's spirits functioned like Sunny's shadows or Mordret's reflections—silent extensions of their master's will. Incapable of speech.
Wait...
Than who had just spoken to her?
Her eyes narrowed. Wait… can they talk? Spirits could speak?
The realization caught her completely off guard. If Klaus's spirits were sentient, capable of independent speech and thought, then his power was fundamentally different from anything she'd seen in Sunny or Mordret. Entirely… unique.
Lich chuckled, the sound dry and ancient like crumbling tombs. He stood, the crackle of old bone accompanying the motion, and inclined his head with a mock bow.
"Yes, I am Lich," he confirmed, his voice ancient and smooth, like grave dust on wind. "And as for why that bastard sent me here… it's to protect you."
Cassie's eyes widened—not because of his words, but because of how he said them. This was Klaus's creation, wasn't it? Hey, sir! Aren't you his servant, his construct, his spirit!? Why are you cursing your master!?
Lich shrugged nonchalantly, the motion loose and oddly casual for someone made entirely of bone and malevolence.
"Let's go," she said quickly, ignoring the rising confusion. "Mordret will strike soon. If we don't leave now, we won't make it out."
The ancient spirit offered her a glance that was equal parts amused and exasperated. He turned toward the frost-stained window, the ghostly light of the northern sky glinting off the flames that burned in his empty sockets.
"I will protect you," he said. "But not just you. My orders were to safeguard all survivors in the North and guide them to the Sanctuary of Noctis."
He paused, then added with a dramatic flair and flawless mimicry of Klaus's casual tone:
"He said—and I quote: 'Anyway, bones. Go to the North. Protect Cas, protect the people. And while you're at it, beat the ever-living shit out of Mordret too. I think that's it. We'll regroup at Noctis and plan our next move. Peace, dickheads!' and than he vanished."
Cassie blinked at him, utterly deadpan.
Of course. Of course he'd say something like that. Why was she even surprised? That idiotic man—her boyfrie-... No! not-boyfriend! Yes, not. Absolutely not her boyfriend.
Lich gave her a peculiar look, tilting his skull slightly, as if baffled by her expression. What's gotten into her? He shifted his stance with the awkwardness of someone trying to act natural despite being, well, a skeleton.
"We begin the evacuation at once," he said, his voice low and matter-of-fact—then paused, as though recalling something amusing. "Ah, yes. I almost forgot… We're also going to kill the One in the North—our beloved High Priestess."
That certainly seized her attention. Cassia's eyes widened, disbelief etched across her delicate features as she took in the imposing presence before her. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. According to her visions, Mordret was destined to be the one who slew the High Priestess… not Klaus's spirit. The future was shifting again. Unpredictable. Her foresight, once so reliable, now felt like fragments of a broken mirror.
"How?" she asked, voice sharp with tension. "How do you expect to evacuate two thousand people, defeat Mordret, and assassinate the High Priestess? You don't even possess the Ivory Knife— the only weapon capable of killing her. I'm not questioning your power, but... this plan isn't realistic."
Lich said nothing. Instead, he slowly flexed his skeletal fingers, letting the bones crack like brittle twigs. Then he snapped.
A translucent barrier shimmered into existence, sealing the room in ethereal silence. And then—laughter. Bone-chilling, echoing, strangely jubilant laughter erupted from the empty cage of his ribs. He shook with amusement, flames in his eye sockets flickering wildly.
Cassia folded her arms, watching him with a mix of exasperation and suspicion as his laughter subsided. At last, he spoke.
"I am the Transcendent Tyrant," he said, voice laced with both pride and mockery. "Do you believe me incapable of defeating Mordret, a mere Awakened Terror? I could crush dozens of him without breaking a sweat—if I still had sweat glands, that is."
He began pacing, his boots clinking softly against the floor. "As for the One in the North… who said I don't have the Knife? And even if I didn't, I'm still uniquely suited to fight her. Neither of us possess traditional combat aspects, but mine far surpass hers in versatility and application. And even if I couldn't kill them, I could seal them away. That's the thing with Seekers—people tend to underestimate just how resourceful we can be."
Cassia remained silent, contemplating his words. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Lich wasn't just Klaus's strongest spirit—he was ancient, powerful sorcerer. And while the High Priestess had lived for centuries, Lich had walked through just as many cycles, if not more, as an undying monstrosity. His abilities were arcane, obscure, and horrifying. He was more than capable.
So this was Klaus's strategy… logical, effective, even brilliant. But something about it unsettled her. Cassia wasn't some emotionless tactician. The High Priestess… she was her mentor. Her guide. Someone she'd grown to admire, someone she cares about. The idea of condemning her to death felt cruel, even if it was necessary to clear the Nightmare.
Lich, naturally, noticed her inner turmoil. He grinned—or rather, his skull gave the unsettling illusion of one. The expression was monstrous, but neither of them cared.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, the skeletal tyrant sighed.
"Well… there is another plan."
Cassia's gaze snapped up. Another plan? Of course Klaus would have contingencies. He may act the fool, but she knew better. His intelligence was as immense as it was terrifying—hidden behind a façade of deranged humor and apathetic charm.
"What's the second plan?" she asked cautiously.
Lich turned toward the night sky, the flames in his sockets dimming slightly.
"To speak with the High Priestess herself. To ask what she desires. Two Chain Lords are already dead. Soon, war will claim three more. That will leave only two remaining: Noctis and the High Priestess. And that," he said with a meaningful glance, "may be enough to shatter Hope's chains."
Cassia's eyes narrowed in disbelief. As if it were that simple. Hope was no ordinary being—she was a deity, even if a lesser one. Imprisoned by the Lord of Light Himself. The chains that bound her weren't mere shackles of steel—they were divine, woven from sacred power. Even if only one or two remained, there was no guarantee Hope could escape.
Lich shook his head, disappointed by her doubt.
"Young people," he muttered. "So quick to despair."
Then he looked at her, more serious this time. "Do you trust my lord?"
She hesitated… then nodded, slowly.
"Then let me ask you this—do you want the High Priestess to die?"
Cassia sighed, already knowing where this was going. "No. I don't."
"Good," Lich replied, taking his seat once more. "Then we speak to her. My lord is many things—mad, theatrical, impossible—but he detests needless tragedy. He's offering her a choice: survival. She may leave with her people. And if she chooses that path, I will honor it. But if she chooses death…" He paused, letting the implication settle. "Then I shall grant her wish."
He leaned back with a clatter, one skeletal finger tapping against the armrest. "I will handle Mordret. I'll move the civilians east to Noctis's sanctuary. I have… methods. One of my ability, Necromantica, allows me to reanimate corpses—nightmare beasts and other creatures of the Dream Realm. They will bear the survivors to safety. As for Hope's chains…"
He smirked, if such a thing could be said of a skull.
"My lord will deal with them personally."