1 A scroll, A Fae, and a Corpse

In a dark and dusty warehouse with hundreds of aisles and shelf after shelf of assorted antiques, one aisle stood out from the rest. It looked like it suffered the attack of an angry tornado. There was just enough light from the old wall-mounted oil lamps to see the objects strewn across the floor.

A crumpled body lay in a mess of unfurled scrolls, half-shattered glass orbs, and silver ceremonial daggers. It was a young man. He didn't look very comfortable; a large wooden shelf rested on top of him. It fell on him as he was examining its contents. The elegant calligraphy on the scrolls was no longer visible under the dark crimson stains. The scrolls were like parched men on the verge of death who had found the legendary Oasis. Except for the scroll closest to the young man's head. For some reason, rivulets of blood inched across the ground toward that scroll like thin veins. It didn't absorb any blood; On the contrary, it seemed that the blood was absorbing the scroll bit by bit. Every few seconds, the scroll's surface pulsed a faint green and lost a bit of opacity.

With a creak and a crash, the shelf was shoved aside by a towering figure. The figure crouched and leaned forward, sending a blurry foot into the young man. There was a heavy crunch before the young man flew into another shelf ten paces away and crumpled once more. However, this time it looked like the young man was slumped over in a sitting position. His head was down as if he was afraid to look up.

"Ye good fer nothin urchin! I told Squires we should'a ne'er hired yer sorry bum. We don' need trash in this here library," The mountainous man growled. "Get up righ' now, an' I won't kill ye. Didn' ye hear me? Up now."

This giant that stood one and a half times taller than the average man, was called Henry. He was not known for patience or kindness. As Henry looked around the library and saw all the broken and misplaced artifacts, his eyes burned, and he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. This place was no ordinary library. In fact, it wasn't really a library at all. It was a large warehouse of precious and powerful artifacts. The actual library was out front- there, visitors could find all the latest books on machines and magical beasts, as well as poetry and sacred texts.

What was so special about the artifacts in this secret warehouse? Why would someone go through all the effort to hide them behind the most extensive library in the kingdom? Henry didn't know. Nor did he care. Nor did Henry really believe they were anything more than trinkets. However, he had worked here for fifteen years. His employers paid him handsomely, and he didn't ask questions. Henry was paralyzed with fright whenever he was in their presence. They appeared and vanished like wraiths: formless, soundless. Even when they were directly in front of Henry, he had the feeling that he was hallucinating and that they would evaporate if he blinked. It didn't help that sometimes they really were gone after he blinked.

Henry turned around and left, his booming footsteps escaping into the distance. It's not as if he was going to clean the mess up anyway. "Plus, if'n I don' leave now, then I might'uh rel'ay just kill that stupik ijit". He slipped into his office, hung up a set of keys, and slammed his door closed. He sat there thinking about what he was going to tell Squires. Well, at least Squires was the one responsible for contacting the employers. Henry didn't have to worry too much. Henry decided he'd give that boy another beating later once the mess was all cleaned up. Just thinking about it relaxed Henry's tense nerves. A few minutes later, a rumbling snore echoed throughout the spacious warehouse.

Of course, what Henry didn't realize is that he had just kicked a corpse. At this moment, a shimmering green cloud covered the corpse. Tiny particles of light seemed to weave back and forth through the cloud, and faint popping sounds rang out rhythmically. The corpse was trembling, and its wounds slowly closed up as the light particles passed the skin. The eerie scroll from earlier was nowhere to be seen.

"Hmph. That big meanie," The green motes that surrounded the young man's corpse spiraled up and formed into a pouting little girl who stood a handspan tall. She wore a dark robe and a green sash with the same glittery vibrance as that mysterious cloud from before. Her jet-black hair swayed even though there was no wind. She looked down at the corpse with mischief in her scarlet eyes. "At least the boy's blood was fresh; otherwise, I would've never been able to fix him. Tsk tsk. Physical bodies are so fragile. Tee hee."

Tap. Tap. Tap… A total of ten taps. Each of the young man's fingers raised and lowered one by one. He wiggled his arms a few times. Then he clumsily shoved off from the ground and stood, only to fall back onto his butt.

"Tsk. You're so rusty, Ralea," She chided herself. Ralea let the body lie on the cold stone floor while she played with a strand of her hair. "It'll be hard to escape unless I can control this body. I've been trapped without energy for sooo long. Well, I guess I can't help it. Time to borrow the power of the Underworld Banner…"

Ralea zipped about and began chanting. Her voice became ethereal and melodious as if it were many voices echoing from a far-off world. An image of the scroll appeared behind her, undulating like a phantasmal war banner.

"Oh, the whole of all creation,

Flutters amid your stare,

Demon of vicissitude,

Destroying worlds without care,

Hear now my simple rhyme,

For even thou hath a beating heart,

And a soul as smooth as silk,

Thus the Spirit of the Past doth chime,

Thou art the Lord of Living Time."

Ralea slowly descended and, as the last note came to a close, she perched on the corpse's head like a bird.

"Ah, that feels better. Now it's like a big puppet," Ralea carefully guided the young man to stand and dust off his pants. Of course, he was still moving very rigidly by human standards. However, Ralea successfully made him walk over to a full-length mirror on the library warehouse's other side. "Heh. He looks so dumb. Hey, dumb dumb, why the long face?"

His arms reached up and pinched his cheeks. Then he stuck out his tongue. Next, he slapped himself a bunch. Girlish giggles rang out for several hours as Ralea made him do one pose after another. His blue eyes were dull and lifeless, like two dark ponds that had never rippled since the beginning of time. After a while, Ralea got bored and stopped torturing what remained of the poor lad.

What came next might've embarrassed and excited him if he had known about it; she made him strip all his clothes off. Ralea had never seen a man naked before. She closely inspected his body as she slowly fluttered around him. She thought he looked beautiful. She liked his strong jawline, his bushy eyebrows, and his messy blue hair. He was also very toned; his arms boasted large biceps and his abs had no fat. He was about average height for a human man.

She was curious why his thing wasn't that big, though. It just hung there limply. She had heard that men's things would get big when they were near girls. Was that only true for a living man?

Ralea suddenly felt embarrassed for some reason that she couldn't explain. Why was she even thinking about these things? She should just use this body to escape from here and then find a female body to possess. Preferably a female with potent magical talent. Ralea was firmly against possessing a male body. In the meantime, she could hitch a ride with this boy's body since she had planted the Underworld Banner inside it. Her soul was sealed so that it had to be within ten feet of the banner.

Ralea put his clothes back on as well as she could and had him pinch his cheeks again for fun. Then she directed him to turn around. Except he didn't turn around. He kept squeezing his cheeks, and a look of confusion entered his eyes. Immediately after losing control of the body, Ralea felt an irresistible suction. She knew her time was up, so she flew back into the banner.

Allen stood in front of an ornate bronze mirror. Depictions of oriental dragons stretched up along either side of the mirror. His face looked ashen and unfamiliar. He stumbled several steps back and lowered the hand that was pinching his cheek. Then he furtively looked back and forth for anyone else nearby. There was no one.

Allen burst into laughter. What a great prank! He almost thought he was in someone else's body! His roommates, Mike and Jim, were electrical engineering students. They always tried to prank him with things they made. On more than one occasion, they succeeded. For instance, Jim wired a sensor to the smoke alarm so that when Allen walked into his room, he set off the fire alarm for the whole building.

The prank this time around was simple! They must've built a "mirror" that was overlaid with a liquid crystal display. Then when someone walked in front of it, the hidden camera would pick up the individual's pose and display someone else in the same pose looking back at him or her.

Silver words appeared in the mirror. It looked like it was cycling through different languages, but they weren't any languages Allen was familiar with. He didn't care. His roommates loved theatrics so this was obviously a cheap attempt to instill a sense of mystery.

The only strange thing was the location. This place was huge. Was it a storage facility for a museum? Dang. He was probably going to get caught. Those rascals. Getting in trouble for setting off a fire alarm was nothing compared to the predicament he'd be in for "attempted burglary". He needed to escape quietly and plan his revenge.

Allen hadn't noticed it at first due to all the shock, but his head felt like it was going to split open. This migraine was the worst Allen had ever had. He held his throbbing cranium and sat down.

"Did those jerks drug me? I really need to find some new friends."

Allen heard a faint buzzing sound. The sound crescendoed in lock-step with the agony in his head. The sound transitioned from buzzing to muttering and then to an eerily crisp rasp.

Godric… Godric Draw.

The name kept reverberating in his ears like the whispering of the devil. Monochrome scenes rapidly flashed before his eyes. He couldn't tell what was real anymore. Each scene seemed so natural… as if they were memories. The scenes sped up and became more vivid until he felt like he was there.

The scenes started to connect. Allen saw himself running and jumping over and around wooden obstacles with a spear in hand. He saw others racing ahead of him. He was the last one to the finish line. Some boys his age turned around and sneered.

Godric… Godric Draw… Godric... Godric…

Then there was another scene. A military superior was roaring in Allen's face. The superior tried to punch him, but he sidestepped the superior and smacked the back of the superior's head with the butt of his spear. The superior lay there silently.

Godric… Godric Draw… Godric... Godric… Godric…

Suddenly he was shivering on the street in tattered clothes, chomping down on hard, moldy bread. He remembered a man in a thick wool coat approached him and said:

"Hey Godric, it's been a while."

Just as he felt like throwing up, the dreams shattered. His heart was pounding and it felt like someone was twisting a knife inside his brain.

"No. No. No! I'm Allen Lappage. Who is Godric Draw!? I'm Ala… My name is… My name's Godric. Who's Allen?" Godric rubbed his head.

Godric's heart was beating rapidly, and his head hurt a little bit. It wasn't terrible, but he felt groggy. He looked up and saw his face in the mirror. He was slightly pale, but aside from that, he looked fine. How strange, he remembered getting injured. Was that just a dream?