God, can you imagine Egrimm's reaction to finding out Mathilde has read the original Liber Mortis front to back?
A Grim Revelation.
It was the day after Mathilde's funeral. So many words had been said over an empty casket that Egrimm had felt like all the words in the world had run out. For all that they had worked together, something had always felt unbalanced between them. Egrimm
owed Mathilde, in a way he could never confess to, and now would never be able to truly repay. Mathilde had been a light in the shadows, but on dark days like this, he felt like he was a shadow hiding his true self in the light.
His dour mood was interrupted by a knock at the door. He opened it - it was nighttime now, it seemed - to find a very old and very serious dwarf ranger carrying an iron strongbox.
"
Zonzhufokri Egrimm van Horstmann?" the dwarf asked.
He nodded.
"I have a delivery for you from
Dawizhufokri Mathilde Weber. It was her wish that upon her death, this strongbox would be delivered into your safekeeping with absolute secrecy. Do you understand?"
Shakily, he nodded again. But this was not enough for the dwarf.
"I understand." he managed. Wordlessly, he was handed the box - nearly falling over at the weight of it - before the dwarf turned and walked away. A half dozen other rangers peeled themselves out of the shadows to follow him. And then Egrimm was alone.
Some investigation later, he found Mathilde's message hidden in the box's shadow, words that would only become visible in a shadow cast by pure Hysh light. He smiled at that. A clever enchantment that was nevertheless a bit silly. The message told him how to open the box, and one more thing: 'I've faith you'll know what to do with it.'
Any mirth he had left him when he saw what was inside: A simple and ancient leather tome that held an impossibly stable
Dhar enchantment. Slowly, unable to stop himself, he opened up the cover to the title page.
The Liber Mortis.
The box slammed shut before he realized he had even moved. Summoning physical strength he didn't even know he had, he lifted the strongbox and marched it into the darkest corner of his cellar, where it was quickly buried under boxes and tarps.
He stumbled back upstairs, utterly exhausted in the span of only a few minutes. But he hardly even noticed, for it was matched by the utter horror gripping his heart. Inside that box was an endless abyss of darkness. A truth he could not face.
Her missing body.
But his was the wind of truth, of revelation.
Her task left unfinished.
Try as he might, he could not ignore what had been laid before him.
The hints she'd dropped throughout the years, as if they shared a secret only she knew.
He did not want to think these thoughts. He did not want to know these poisoned truths.
Her last message. Her utter faith in me. In me.
But, truth be told, his mind was merely catching up to what the chasm in his gut had figured out long ago.
Was it all a lie? Was it all for
this? From one dark master who would sell his soul, to another? Who really was Mathilde Weber? No. Who
is Mathilde Weber?
And where is she now?
