The Wordless Mage
Chapter 28: What Dwells In The Blank

Chapter 28: What Dwells In The Blank

Black leaped out from her chest, tearing at her skin and causing some purple liquid to escape along with it.

Rowan was horrified, watching as her body twisted every which way until her arms churned like a wet cloth being squeezed free of its water.

His limbs froze, the fear rising up from within to offer its cold embrace and force him to watch the transformation.

The creature didn’t scream, didn’t even wince from the twisting of its body, laughing as its bulk began to touch upon the ceiling, its material creaking in response to the beast’s growing height.

Webs of cracks stretched out from its head into the roof, eventually forcing the house to come down on itself as the creature continued morphing.

Finally, the ghastly beast revealed itself, similarly black with the other nightcrawlers hounding the nearby town, but bringing with it an intelligence in its movements that its kind lacked.

"Kuhhkuhku," it laughed, kicking away the slab of stone that trapped Rowan.

He started in wide-eyed horror, using his arms to back up from the ground, but as his frantic breaths caused his shoulders to move more than was stable, he ended up tripping on his own flailing, falling back down to the floor.

"Kuuhhhhhkuuhhkuhhhh!"

The beast howled at the sight, stepping forward to cast its giant shadow over Rowan’s face.

Cold filled his limbs, his face discolored with blue once he’d felt for his grimoire, realizing the futility of the action.

What the hell is this? Why did the woman turn into one of the nightcrawlers, even though they couldn’t talk?

"Kuhhkuh! What, cats got your tongue? That is something you humans say, right? I don’t know, that lady’s memories were disgusting, so I didn’t sift through them all that well."

Rowan didn’t even bother hearing the nightcrawler’s words, rolling over from his back to try to get back onto his feet.

Crack!

The midsection of his back twisted into a "V" as a large, black limb crashed into him to force him back onto the ground.

Fire flew from his chest, air forcefully expelled from his lungs as he cried out a primal bellow.

The pain so insufferable that he contemplated crying out for help, he wriggled his arms as best as he could to try to resist the creature’s weight.

To no avail.

"I love when my food struggles for its life! It’s amusing, and sometimes, I can even notice something different in the taste of their flesh, a pleasant flavor, a nice undertone of fear and despair flecking its metallic red."

The beast’s gnarly teeth intrenched Rowan’s personal space, its skin brushing against his.

"Grahhhh!"

Rowan’s yell was a response to a deep cut being etched into his cheek as the coarseness of its skin rubbed against his like sandpaper.

It felt as if someone had grabbed a blade and rubbed its sharp end vigorously against his skin, clawing into muscle and licking every nerve it passed.

The synchronized throbbing of his face and his back was enough to inundate his mind in wishes for death, the sprawling heat burning away his flesh and rationale alike.

"Kuhhhkuhhhkuhhkuhh! I can hear it, the sounds of your pain! Your heart pounds, begging for a quick end. Say, do you think you deserve it?"

The creature waited for a response, but once Rowan had none to give, it continued its speech.

"It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you. Hey, do you truly think that you deserve a painless death? I’ll allow you to answer truthfully."

Rowan gathered just enough courage to reach his hand for his grimoire, a single finger scratching at the covers.

’Do you wish to survive,’ a voice rung, appearing from above him.

If he could look up, he would’ve, but his movements were restricted by the beast’s leg.

"Answer me," the nightcrawler yelled, kicking away Rowan’s hand with another leg, "and stop reaching for that grimoire of yours. Usually, I might be weary of a human’s arcana, but yours is a sort of blank slate, isn’t it? I can sense the grimoire’s intentions, and it doesn’t even have the slightest ruminations of aether resonating with it. Empty, void, an echo."

The nightcrawler smiled, opening its mouth and unleashing an onslaught of vile saliva that splashed and sizzled into the floor.

"I could flay you, cook you with my saliva, or disembowel you at my very whim. How does that make you feel, human? Do you understand your impending doom? I would, especially since nobody in this town has the wherewithal to take me down. I can feel it, each person’s aether and the poewr behind them--there’s some centerpieces, but only one who could honestly pose a threat. The true challenge lies in my escaping this dreaded place."

The nightcrawler released its weight from Rowan’s back, earning him a few free breaths.

’You certainly don’t wish to stay weak, do you,’ the deep voice rung again, twice as loud.

"Hm, what’s that in your grimoire there?"

Rowan clawed at the ground to get away, but his efforts were instantly dispelled once it’d grabbed him by the waist and raised him into the air.

"That’s an interesting color. Familiar, but still interesting."

It tapped at his grimoire, feeling for the black enshrouding it with greater volume than it’d ever possessed before.

Zap!

His arm was flung back, singed at the grimoire’s behest. A black jolt had shocked it, leaving it without words for just a moment.

"A weird power lays within it, unbeknownst to even you, it seems. It’s not of this world, although I think I might just be able to put my finger on it."

It looked up for just a moment, ignoring Rowan’s inattentive stare into the sky as a result of the pain from broken bones and torn skin.

"A spirit resides in your grimoire, trying to egg you on. It’s weird, really, the way it tries to hide itself but doesn’t bother to hide its aura. It’s almost like it wants to hide itself from you, and only you."

The words weren’t even processed by Rowan, his mind on the silent grimoire at his hip.

He could feel it, the void speaking to him, willing to disclose its secrets.

It wasn’t scary, nor was it foreign. It was like he’d always been a part of it, giving him knowledge that he didn’t possess just moments before.

’You seek it, and you shall receive, Hero,’ the voice bellowed, excited from Rowan’s extended hand.

The grimoire’s pages turned on their own, floating in front of Rowan outside of his control.

He narrowed his eyes, feeling for the shapes and words brimming in the air and folding into the pages.

The creature pulled its head back, instinctively throwing Rowan away, but it was too late.

"A deal with the devil," Rowan said, black surrounding his torso.