《Tom the Dark Lord: A Lich's Tale》


 1 - Everyday Average Tom

    2:19...


    2:20...


    2:21...


    Slumped on his desk, Tom Gardner watched the clock with the one eye that peeked out from under his arms. The minutes ticked by like hours... math class had a way of stretching them out. Luckily though, this was his last class, and even more luckily, it was Friday. Tom couldn''t wait to be home... he and his friends had just found this great new game, one where you played as a team of astronauts exploring weird planets and excavating for rare minerals - it was a lot morefun than it sounded.


    2:22... 2:23... 2:24...


    Tom moved his arm to his mouth, stifling a yawn. God. He was so tired. It had been storming all day today, and heavy rain was lashing against the windows and the roof of the school. The rhythmic, reverberating soundrainmade when you were indoorshad to be Tom''s second favoritenoise ever... it never failed to make him feel nice and cozy and sleepy.


    "Alright... well, since Tom seems to be taking a nap, I think he''d like to answer the last question before we go?"


    At the sound of his name, Tom shifted his head up. The whole class was looking at him now... standing in front of them all was Miss Yeun.


    Ugh.


    "Uhhh... what?" he asked.


    There was a bit of scattered laughter at that. Miss Yeun silenced the class with an angry glance, then stared back at Tom.


    "Can you name the square root of negative one?"


    Tom blinked.Square root of negative one?He tapped his fingers on his desk as he scraped his brain for the answer. Eventually, it grew obvious that he didn''t have a clue, and that the teacher was getting impatient.


    "Name it, like... get the answer?" Tom asked, trying to stall. Miss Yeun saw right through him.


    "Alright, does anyone else know this one?" thewoman said, irritation in her voice.


    A few hands raised. The teacher selected one from the crowd, a girl in the front.


    "It''s ''i.''"


    "Yes, that''s right." the teacher grabbed a marker, drew the symbol in question on the board, and circled it. Right then, the bell rang - Tom''s first favorite sound. "And it''s going to be the topic of next class. Have a good weekend, everyone."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    That is so stupid.Tom thought as he rose up from his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder.That''s not even a number, it''s a letter.Why did math have to start including letters?


    There were quite a few people trying to push their way through the door, so Tom had to wait a bit for his turn. Right before he could step out, however, Miss Yeun called him over to her desk. With a sigh, he trudged up to the woman. The teacher let the last few kids trickle out, asking the last to close the door - when he did, she gestured for Tom to take a seat next to her.


    "I didn''t realize that my class was naptime, Mister Gardner."


    Mister... teachers only used that when they were pissed.


    "I''m sorry." Tom said, rubbing his eyes. The teacher ignored his apology as she turned to her computer, tapping away at the keyboard. She was pulling up his grades.


    "You''re not doing too well. Did you know that?" she rotated the bulky old monitor to face him. The last two semesters he had gotten Cs, but now, he had a 58% average. "That''s an F."


    Well... this was news to Tom.


    "Uhhh..." he scratched his chin. "I''ll try and bring that up with the test?"


    The teacher stared back at him, unamused. "You''re too smart for an F,Tom... the next time you use your desk as a pillow, I''m going to call your parents. Got that?"


    "Yeah." Tom said. "Got it."


    <hr>


    By the time Tom made it out to in front of the cafeteria - where the buses waited for the students - he found that his bus had already left.


    "Shit... thanks, Miss Yeun..." he murmured, under his breath. Mom wasn''t going to get home for another three hours, and none of his friends could drive, so... well, it looked like he was walking home today. That sucked... he loved rain, but only when he was inside and it wasn''t drenching him down to his underwear.


    Shivering, he pulled the strings of his thick black hoodie to tighten it up, then started the long walk to his house. It was a walk he had taken tons of times before, but never in these conditions... a bright flash of lightning crackled across the dark clouds, followed shortly by a great boom of thunder.


    It was then that Tom remembered something he always used to do as a kid.


    Whenever a thunderstorm would roll in, he''d sit by the window, watching the sky. Whenever there was a bolt of lightning, he''d count the seconds until the thunder happened. Tom had read about it in a book... for every five seconds between the bolt and the boom, the lightning had struck one mile away. Now, he had no clue if that book was really accurate, but it sure was cool to little five year old Tom.


    To pass the time, he decided to play that game. At first, the thunderclap took ten seconds... that would be two miles. But then, to Tom''s confusion, it started getting closer, really fast. Five seconds... one mile. Three seconds... a sixth of a mile. Two seconds... what would that be, a fourth?


    He had stopped walking at that point, instead, staring up at the sky. It was otherworldly.


    Red.... the flashes of lightning werent white-yellow any more, like usual... they were red. Blood red.


    The rain was really coming down hard now, in heavy, icy sheets that soaked Tom to the bone. Loud winds shrieked by his ears. The sky was churning, the clouds pitch black and moving faster than Tom had ever seen before. They were making a circle... a tornado... a black vortex, localized around him.


    The next time lightning flashed, Tom wasn''t there to count the seconds to the thunder.

 2 - Whered My Chest Go?

    When Tom opened his eyes, he couldn''t tell if they were still shut or not. Inky darkness surrounded him on all sides... his whole body was steeped in a numb feeling, like he was swimming in a pool of TV static. Something heavy was weighing down on his chest. Though the numbness made it hard to tell, it felt like he was laying down... for all he knew, he was suspended in some kind of void.


    Am I... dead? No... no no, wait, no...


    Streaks of light hung in front of him, glowing cracks in the blackness. The light that poured out from them was a blur to Tom''s eyes, which had not yet adjusted to these dark new surroundings.


    Is that... the light at the end of the tunnel? Oh God. I really am dead, aren''t I?


    Grim pictures flashed through Tom''s head. That tornado must''ve sucked him up and tore him limb from limb, or flung him through a window, or even a roof. Or maybe, a bolt of lightning had hit him, zapping him to death in an instant like a prisoner in the electric chair!


    Immediately, jolted on by fear, the teen''s breathing turned ragged. Breaking out of his paralysis, he instinctively rocketed up - turned out he was laying down after all. On the way up, something in front of him was knocked aside, clattering to an unseen floor. A board of wood... wait, a door?


    No... a lid.


    The lid of a coffin.


    Tom had been laying down inside a coffin, propped up on a slab of stone that looked to serve the purpose of a table. Now, that alone was very strange. But what Tom saw around him... well, it was weirder than anything he could''ve imagined.


    Last year, he, his mom, and his little sister had all gone on a vacation to the UK. Mom had saved up for it for so long... as part of the tour, they visited the various medieval castles and towers that dotted the countrysides. The room that the teen was in now was very similar to a chamber one would find in one of those old castles, only as it was when it was actually in use. It was small, cramped, made all of stone brick... the open hatch in the ceiling above him was the only window. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each one packed full, and aside from the table he was now on, the only other piece of furniture was a wooden desk. An archaic tome laid open on it, along with various writing implements - feather pens and crude pencils. There was a candle on it too, clearly overworked... it was pretty much a melty lump of wax.


    What the...?


    Feeling was beginning to return to Tom''s limbs. They still felt oddly light. Slowly, cautiously, Tom began to creep out of the coffin, filled with a curious desire to examine his surroundings. HIs movements weren''t deliberate enough though - as he tried to get one of his legs out of the coffin, the whole thing slid over the stone table''s edge.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Shit!


    Tom crashed onto the hard ground... Jesus, it did not feel good.


    At least I''m not numb anymore, Tom thought, rising up to his feet and rubbing his sore back. For some reason, his legs felt longer than usual - his arms did too. Had he gotten taller?


    Speaking of his arms, something was restricting their movement - his hands moved to his chest. That weight from before... it was a metal box, which was held rigidly in place by thick iron chains that went over his shoulders and waist.


    Weird... I''m going to be thinking that word a lot, aren''t I?


    Tom wasn''t wearing his hoodie anymore. Instead some sort of silky black robe covered his body. Gloves of a similar color and texture - cut from the same fabric, maybe - were on his hands. Taking his hands off the box on his chest, Tom felt one of his sleeves... man, this thing is thin. No wonder I''m feeling so cold.


    "Milord?"


    At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Tom swiveled in place. In the corner of the room was a metal door - someone was rapping on it. Someone with a scary, raspy voice.


    "Lord Corvus? Are you awake?" the voice continued to speak. "I heard a crash."


    Lord Corvus?


    Too frightened to speak, Tom took a few slow steps towards the door. Every now and then, the voice - well, the person with the voice - would call out again. Whenever he did, Tom felt a shock go through him, and was stunned in place for a second.


    "Is something wrong? I can hear you walking..."


    The door creaked open, just a crack, and an eye peered inside. Whoever the eye belonged to must be prodigiously short - it was at about Tom''s waist level.


    "Ah! You are awake!" the door was pushed open the rest of the way. Tom tried hard not to stare at the figure standing before him.


    It was a small, small, hunched-over man, with skin paler than printer paper and eyes that bulged out far. The last messy remnants of a head of dark hair clung to his scalp, hard to see under the hooded garment of stitched-together rags that he wore. A large, rusted pair of bolt cutters - their ancient ancestor, at least - hung in his grip.


    "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Corvus." he said, raising up the bolt cutters and giving them a few snips. "It looks like the new rejuvenation spell didn''t work out, hmm? That''s too bad. Shall I remove your phylactery?"


    Rejuvenation? Phylactery? Lord Corvus??


    "Uhhh..." Tom squeaked, then was surprised at the deepness of his voice. "What... who... huh?"


    Concern flashed on the short man''s face. "... are you alright, milord?"


    "I..."


    Suddenly, Tom felt the sudden urge to feel his chest.


    "Get it off... get it off!"


    Nodding, the man moved in, circling around Tom''s back. Though he had to stand on his tiptoes to do it, Tom could feel that he cut the chains... they went slack, and the box fell to the ground.


    "Milord, why didn''t you..."


    The buzz of panic in his ears drowning out the man''s rasp of a voice, Tom started pulling open the robe he wore. He frantically slipped his hands inside, sliding them to where his chest would be, his pectoral region.


    Instead of flesh, he felt... something else.


    Rows of bone... his ribs... his sternum. Smooth and hard. And in the cracks between them... squishy, soft flesh.


    Organs.


    "Wh... where..." Tom stammered. "Where''d my chest go?"


    For the second time, everything went black.

 3 - Interdimensional Switcheroo

    Once again, Tom opened his eyes. Sweat drenched the robe he wore... he felt sick.


    He was laid down, same as last time... except, not in a coffin, thank God. No, he was in bed. Not his bed - a huge, exquisite one, with blue sheets soft as silk and big pillows. The room he was in now seemed to be some sort of personal chambers, small, with sloped walls. Hanging from the ceiling was a crystal chandelier, which held candles that burned with an icy blue flame.


    It took a few seconds for Tom to stir, but when he did, he jolted up. As if picking up from where he left off, the teen moved his hands to his chest again... yep, still gone.


    "Oh God, oh God, oh God..."


    The gloves he had on were getting in the way of feeling the true extent of his condition. Hooking a finger around the end of one of them, he yanked it off - just to be met with another horrifying sight.


    "Oh, what the fuck!?"


    The flesh on his fingers... it was a pale blue, and most of it had gone missing, just like his chest. His fingers were literally bony... he could even see the ligaments. Screaming out, he rushed to pull the glove back on.


    "C-calm down!"


    Tom''s eyes shot to the end of the bed. It was the hunched-over man from before, standing at the far edge. How long had he been watching?Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "I..." he stammered. "I, I think I know what happened here."


    From the looks of it, this guy was about as scared as Tom was. He pointed a crooked, shaking finger at the boy.


    "You... you are from the Mother Realm. Earth."


    E-Earth? Wait, this isn''t Earth?


    The man began to round the bed, heading for Tom''s side... subconsciously, Tom inched away from him as he got close. There was something in his hands...


    "You must be afraid." the man''s raspy voice struggled to be soothing. "I am Vannes. What is your name?"


    "T-tom?"


    "Tuh-tom... I don''t know what you looked like in the Mother Realm, but here, you inhabit the body of my former master... Lord Corvus."


    Vannes raised up what he was holding... a silver mirror. And in that mirror, staring back at Tom, was a nightmare.


    Long silver. hair ran down over his shoulders. The skin on his face was blue, same as his hands, and wrinkly... God, he was old! But that wasn''t the worst part... the worst part was, like the rest of his body, parts had rotted away... his nose, his cheeks, they were... dessicated. Disgusting.


    Is... is that me?


    "What... what happened?" he rose two shaky hands to his face, feeling around... his skin was cold and dry, like how he imagined a corpse would feel. "Am I dead?"


    Vannes shook his head. "No, no. My master tried to create a spell... it''s complex, but I believe you and him have traded souls."


    In response to that, Tom blinked.


    "My... soul, is in his body?"


    "Yes." Vannes nodded. "I imagine his soul is in yours as well."


    It''s like... it''s like... Freaky Friday? I... I... I guess that makes sense. But it''s all so... crazy!


    "I have sworn to serve my master..." Vannes knelt down. "Together, I hope we can find a way to sort this out."


    Sort this out... sort this out!


    Tom felt energy rush into his decayed body. He could... if he tried, he could get back home! He could be himself again! For now, he''d have to be... this monster. But that would change. If a spell got him in this body... a spell could get him out of it.


    "Let''s..." he sat up straighter. "Let''s do this."

 4 - The Basics of Magic

    "So... where am I, exactly?"


    Tom was being lead through the vast, dark corridors of the castle - his castle - by Vannes. Like every other part of the lair that he seen so far, the walls were made of dark stone bricks. There were windows cut in the walls here, though - thanks to them, Tom could see that the castle was on a high, snowy peak, surrounded by a dense forest of pines.


    At the sound of Tom''s question, Vannes looked back at him over his shoulder.


    "This realm is called Generia. But more precisely, we are in the Mountains of Dread."


    Generia... Mountains of Dread... what is this, a crappy video game?


    "And... what am I, again?" Tom pointed at his decayed face to specify what he meant.


    "You are a lich. Do you know what that is?"


    Tom took a second to think. "Um, something like a zombie?"


    "Well, you are undead like one. But you are intelligent, and you possess sorcery unrivaled."


    Sorcery unrivaled... that''s right, I can use spells, and stuff! It''s what''s gonna get me home...


    "How do I use that, anyways?" he paused. "The, uh, unrivaled sorcery thing."


    "Ah... I forgot, you don''t have magic in the Mother Realm, do you? You should still have access to Corvus''s abilities... here."


    Vannes stopped in place, then turned and pointed at one of the candles on the wall.


    "Point your finger towards it."


    Following Vannes instructions, Tom extended one of his bony fingers at the candle.


    "Now... imagine a beam of light shooting from your fingertip. Imagine the candle going out from the rush of air and cold. Imagine, that when the beam hits the wax and metal, frost creeps out over it, encasing the candle and it''s holder in ice."


    As Vannes spoke, Tom shut his eyes and tried to focus on what the strange man was saying. Imagine... imagine... imagine... images flowed through his head. A chill rushed through his hand, coursing up through his arm and into his body. Suddenly, his fingertip tingled, began to glow with a spark of blue... and in a flash, what Vannes had spoke of became reality.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The candle had gone out, and surrounding it now was a few inches of jagged, glassy ice. Glimmering frost lingered in the air. Vannes smiled as the teen approached the result of his first spell.


    "Wh- whoa." Crouching down, Tom reached out and touched the ice with the same finger he had made it with... it was cold, as expected. "So... I can just imagine anything, and it happens?"


    "Anything within your domains." Vannes replied. "Corvus studied ice magic, fire magic, and lightning magic... along with dark arts like necromancy and mind control. You should be able to use all of those abilities, but of course, there are limits. You draw from a finite pool of energy called mana. Each spell you cast costs you some."


    Mana? That''s also like a video game... weird.


    "I think I get it." Tom said. "What happens if I run out?"


    "No more spells."


    "And how do I get it back?"


    "There are several methods. Sleep replenishes it naturally, there are potions you can drink that restore it as well, and consuming souls can do the trick too, but it''s a difficult technique... even Corvus had trouble with it."


    Hmm...


    Tom rose back up, then aimed an open palm at the ice. Fire... fire... I want fire, come on fire! He could feel his hand growing hotter and hotter, heat running through his body just like cold had before... it was working!


    With enough force to knock Tom on his back, a pulse of blue flame blasted out from his hand. It wreathed around the ice, melting it away... Tom struggled to sit up, but laughed with excitement when he did.


    "I see you''re already learning." Vannes offered a hand to Tom, who grabbed it. He helped him up to his feet, and the two continued their stroll.


    "Alright, so, we should just repeat the spell Corvus did that got me here, right?" Tom said, scratching the back of his head. To be honest, he was a bit sad he''d have to give up shooting fire from his hands, but... he didn''t really want to be a walking corpse forever, did he? "I mean, it should swap us back, shouldn''t it?"


    Vannes shook his head. "Err, not quite... the spell he used was one that would have reached into the Mother Realm to find a soul and absorb it into his body. Of course, it ended up swapping his soul with a Mother Realmer''s instead... we need to modify the spell to find a soul specifically from Generia - since Corvus''s is the only one there, there''s no worry of it being someone else."


    "I see." Tom nodded. He couldn''t quite grasp the situation, but what Vannes said seemed right. "So, how do we do that... ''modify the spell?''"


    "Well, there''s two types of spells... basic spells, like what you just did with the candle, and advanced ones, which require preparation and ingredients and formulas and such. It''s all very complex." Vannes waved his hand. "Just leave everything about that to me. In the meantime... you need to be on your throne."


    "My... throne?"


    "Yes, ah..." Vannes stroked his chin. "How do I say this... you''re something of a big deal in Generia."


    "How big?"


    Suddenly, Vannes stopped walking, so Tom did too. He looked forward to see why... the two of them had reached a large set of double doors. Vannes pushed them open.


    A wide, wide room stretched out in front of Tom. It had to be bigger than the school gym... no, bigger than the auditorium! At one end was a colossus of a throne, made of black metal and ice, and at the other end was a dining table so huge it looked like it could fit an army. Chandeliers, giant ones, hung from the ceiling... this was a meetingplace for powerful people, Tom could tell.


    "That big." Vannes said.