Second Skin: Green Eyes: A litRPG Adventure (Second Skin Book 4) Read online

  Second Skin

  Green Eyes

  By: M Damon Baker

  Copyright © 2019 by M Damon Baker

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 9781687161086

  Interior design and ebooks by Booknook.biz.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Deep inside her hidden retreat, the Mistress of Shadows hovered impatiently above the floor of the empty chamber. She did not like having to wait for her minions to report to her, and the indignity of it still galled her, even after having endured it for so many centuries. The limitations she’d had to put upon herself were simply an intolerable affront, one that she’d been forced to accept in order to maintain the secrecy of her continued existence.

  The fact that she even had to hide herself from the petty, faithless Gods brought forth a surge of outrage within her whenever she was reminded of it. She would’ve been much more pleased to unmask herself; to finally flaunt her presence to them, but she couldn’t. The worthless Gods were just too powerful for her to resist, and once they discovered her, she knew that they would come to finish the job they’d failed to complete so long ago.

  They’d taken everything from her, leaving her with nothing but the comfort of her own darkness and shadows. For centuries, that was all she’d had, and she’d drifted formlessly through the ages, lacking the strength to pull herself together. During that time, she’d come to hate the traitorous Gods who’d banished her to a state of near non-existence. Their selfish greed had nearly destroyed her when they’d stolen so much before discarding what little was left to languish in oblivion. She’d been reduced to mere shadows, and the only light left to her was the burning fires of her rage.

  But eventually something changed, and the Mistress of Shadows found that she was aware of things beyond herself once more. Although she was still quite weak, she finally had form again, and she immediately began plotting her revenge. But revenge would never be hers without help. The faithless, Essence-stealing God and his wretched spawn had robbed the Mistress of too much of her power for her to be able to accomplish that alone. So, she’d gathered what allies she could and began setting her plans in motion.

  Her minions were pitiful creatures at first; the bare remains of all those who’d been driven from the surface of the world by the Gods. Orcs, goblins, ogres, and others as well. These were the ones who’d been cast off by the Gods, just as she’d been—but she’d made do with what she’d had.

  The Mistress began slowly at first, building her strength and growing the power of her servants. She raised hordes of followers from those ragged few that first came to her, all the while hiding them deep underground; shielding not only them but also herself from discovery.

  But the Mistress was not content to simply wait. While the Gods above her tried to bring peace to their world, she’d used her slowly reemerging powers to sabotage their efforts. She guided her shadows to stoke their petty jealousies and even sent out her minions to destroy their great works, all while making it appear that another of the traitorous Gods had been responsible for the act. Her efforts eventually bore fruit when the Gods finally retreated from the surface of the world, believing that their desire to foster peace was in vain. Then, with the Gods gone, the Mistress began planning the destruction of their world.

  It took her a great deal of time, but once she was ready, the Mistress of Shadows sent forth her minions to openly assault the lands above her. Their swarms quickly overwhelmed the peaceful people of the world, and she took great pleasure in seeing the Gods’ creations slaughtered by the thousands—and even greater pleasure in tormenting and defiling them.

  The Mistress used the countless captives her servants had taken during their conquests above to make creations of her own—creations not only designed to serve her, but to despoil and mock the Gods’ work as well. She cast powerful corruptions upon her prisoners and bred them with the foulest creatures under her command. The Mistress set her orcs and goblins loose on the helpless captives and all manner of beasts as well, and her dark magic forced those vile unions to bear fruit.

  The first beastkin born from her efforts were weak, pitiful things, lacking real strength and barely able to function, but the Mistress persevered and continued to breed her stock until she’d gotten what she wanted—a powerful minion of her own. With these, she would not only wreak havoc on the world above but also further defile the Gods’ precious people.

  Although the surface Realms had finally managed to halt her minions’ advance, the Mistress did not care. In fact, she’d become quite content to hold her gains and simply lash out against the world whenever she pleased. She could do far more damage that way, endlessly tormenting the people of Arrika, just as the worthless Gods had done to her. And she’d been quite satisfied to do just that for many centuries—until the Deathless first came into the world.

  The Mistress recognized both the power and potential of those first Deathless almost immediately and quickly began recruiting them to her cause. Many of them seemed to be without a conscience—more than willing to murder, pillage, and even do far worse with just the slightest prodding and vague promises of power, so she had little trouble finding her allies among them. Then, the Gods tried to intervene.

  She’d felt them begin their Great Ritual, just as she’d felt the pull of their first one. It was unlike before, when the wretched Gods had sought to limit their own power; this time, she’d objected to its purpose.

  The Mistress sent her own dark Essence into their Great Ritual, seeking to disrupt the formation of the Barrier the Gods sought to erect. But as she did so, she sensed Uthalan, the Oath Breaker, and had to hide her presence from him, lest he recognize her influence. With her power so limited, all the Mistress could do was attempt to influence the creation of the Barrier to aid her in some way.

  Despite the Barrier’s purpose, she knew that some Deathless would be trapped behind its walls, so she infused the Barrier with her own shadows, hoping to sway as many of those Deathless as possible to her cause. Her efforts were successful, and she was soon able to count a handful of powerful Deathless among her most loyal followers.

  But the Mistress did not trust these Deathless. More importantly, she knew their power, so she took precautions, lest they consider betraying her. She bound each of them to her, tying their powerful Essence to her own. In return for this bond, the Deathless gained a small amount of strength from her while she gained their undying loyalty—literally. The links she coerced them into would end their lives forever should she ever fall, forcing them not only to remain loyal but also serving to motivate them to protect her quite fiercely. The Mistress would suffer somewhat as well if one of her Deathless ever fell, but in light of their nearly eternal nature, she considered that possibility most unlikely.

  Yet one Deathless—perhaps the most powerful of them all—remained her enemy.

  The Mistress had only
learned about the green-eyed Deathless after she’d already made herself Empress and gathered several Realms under her banner. The glaring failure of her minions to locate this particular Deathless earlier vexed her, and many of them had paid the ultimate price for that failure. In her rage, the Mistress first sought to extinguish the green-eyed Deathless, sending her beastkin hordes after the new Empress, but even they’d failed to kill her.

  Then the green-eyed Deathless unleashed her fury in the cold of the Northlands, and the Mistress felt its power resonate through her, even from deep within her retreat in the Dark Lands. It was a dark, bottomless rage that the Mistress had recognized instantly, for it was her own darkness that she’d felt flowing from the green-eyed Deathless.

  There is nothing—nothing, quite so intimate as one’s own shadows, yet the Mistress had felt hers burning in the heart of this strange Deathless. She had no idea how this could be possible—how a Deathless, let alone this blasphemous green-eyed Deathless, could have acquired her powers, but she did know what it heralded. It foretold of the day when the Mistress could finally unmask herself and not only stand before the might of the Gods but usurp them as well. With the power of the Mistress’ shadows, she could teach this Deathless how to slay the Gods who’d been tormenting her for so long. All the Mistress needed to do was sway the green-eyed Deathless to her side—one way or another.

  The door to her sanctum finally opened, interrupting the Mistress’ thoughts as her Orc seneschal entered. He approached her cautiously, as was always wise for any of her servants, before dropping to his knees and bidding leave to give his report.

  “You have kept me waiting long enough; do not keep me waiting any longer,” the Mistress replied in irritation, both at the delay and at having her musings disrupted.

  Her seneschal lifted his head but did not meet her gaze. Few of her minions ever did; staring vaguely into the shapeless mass of shadows that made up her barely material form was the best most of her followers could manage when they spoke to her.

  “As you ordered, our scouts have captured many travelers on the roads, Mistress,” he replied in a steady, even voice that belied the rapid timbre of the heartbeat she heard within his chest. “Under questioning, they all report the same news—the Empress destroyed the army of Laska herself, with only the assistance of her dragon. However, her army has also suffered severe losses, and she is returning to her capitol now.”

  The Mistress had seen much of this for herself through her own divinations, but she’d been forced to limit her use of those powers to prevent the Gods from finding her secret lair deep within the Dark Lands. The reports from the captives that her minions had ‘questioned’ only served to confirm what she’d already known and filled in the few gaps in her knowledge.

  Now that the green-eyed Deathless had united all the Realms, the Mistress knew that the Empress intended to lead her armies against the Dark Lands next. But rather than being alarmed at this prospect, the Mistress of Shadows welcomed it instead. The closer the green-eyed Deathless came to her, the easier it would be for the Mistress to capture her, and once captured, it would only be a matter of time before the Mistress twisted this last Deathless to her side. The darkness they shared made that result inevitable.

  “Send out more scouts,” the Mistress commanded. “Keep me apprised of everything she does—especially her preparations for war.”

  “Yes, my Mistress,” the seneschal replied before hastily exiting the chamber.

  The Mistress of Shadows was close, so very close to taking back everything she’d lost, that she could almost taste it once more. Her power, her lost Essence, even the name that had been stolen from her so long ago; with the green-eyed Deathless, she would finally be able to reclaim it—all of it. The Mistress would do whatever it took to bring this green-eyed Deathless to her; sacrifice every last one of her minions, lose every other Deathless under her control, pay any price at all for the chance to regain everything that had been taken from her.

  The Mistress would make them all pay dearly for what they’d stolen; Uthalan, the Essence Thief and his faithless spawn who’d abandoned her to the void of near oblivion. She would take back what she’d given each of them, strip them of their very Essence and reclaim it for herself. Then, when she was finally complete again, she’d slay every last one of them with her own bare hands, watching as the light faded from their eyes when she crushed them between her fingers.

  The room flared with brilliant green light as the Mistress contemplated the culmination of her revenge—reclaiming her name in the face of Uthalan, the Oath Breaker. Only when his children lay dead at his feet, and she had her hands around his treacherous neck would she finally unmask herself and spit in his face. Only then would she utter her name once more; the name she’d forsaken so long ago—the name that had been taken from her. Only when she was staring into his eyes in that final moment would she whisper it to him as she choked the life out of the one who’d betrayed her love.

  “Veroiá.”

  1

  The road home promised to be a very long and difficult journey. I had lost nearly half my Army to the Laskans’ vicious trap and added Tási to their numbers when I’d chosen to raise Stel in her place. But even as the pain of loss weighed heavily on my heart, my duties to my Empire, my citizens, and my companions pushed me to move forward.

  I simply didn’t have the luxury of pretending that I was alone in my mourning—countless others had lost family and loved ones, not only in the battle we’d just fought but also in the endless series of mindless wars and brutal deprivations that had plagued Arrika over the centuries. In finally uniting the many fractured Realms, I’d won the first battle in my war to end that suffering, although at a terrible cost—a cost I never wanted to have to pay again. But ultimately, I also knew that I still had very little control over that. There were two sides to every battle, and my enemies would have a say in how those conflicts would unfold.

  Only hard work and dedication would limit the casualties we incurred during the next phase of my quest: the conquest of the Dark Lands. So, with a renewed sense of purpose, I rose from my bed in the morning and got ready for the day ahead. Bane only lifted the lid of one of his golden eyes to glance at me as I strapped on my weapons. I’d missed Tási’s warmth by my side the previous night, just as I had every night since I’d lost her, but Bane’s soothing presence dulled the sharpest edges of my pain.

  The tent I used was a rather large one with two separate rooms. When I left the sleeping area and entered the smaller antechamber, I found Ella there waiting for me, sitting at the small table with breakfast for the two of us.

  “Good morning,” she greeted me with a tentative smile.

  No matter what the context, Ella always had an air of genuine warmth and affection about her, and I was glad to see her there. But something about the slightly awkward grin on her face let me know that she had some purpose that morning, one that she was not entirely comfortable with, so I was somewhat uneasy as I sat down beside her.

  “I’ve seen that look before,” I began warily. “Usually on Khorim’s face when he’s lost another bet with Stel.”

  “Close enough,” Ella replied with a slight laugh. “The rest of us talked last night, and we’ve decided a number of things between us. Líann and Venna both felt they were the wrong ones to approach you first, and Saibra simply refused, so it fell to me.”

  “Am I that bad?”

  “No,” Ella chuckled again. “It’s just that this may be a bit sensitive.”

  I wasn’t quite sure that anything wasn’t a bit sensitive at the time, so I just nodded for her to continue.

  “Do you need me?” Ella ventured carefully. “Do you need any of us right now?”

  V’Ríel—she meant if I needed to share any of my V’Ríel with one of them. Thankfully, the answer was no. Even though it had been several days since Tási’s death, I simply wasn’t ready for the powerful emotions that went along with those connections, but my needs weren’t t
he only ones that I had to consider.

  “No, not yet,” I answered her truthfully. “I’m not sure when I will again, either. But I’m here for you if you need me—any of you.”

  “I’ll let them know,” Ella replied, telling me in the process that she was fine, which was no surprise to me. Our desires for each other were not usually an urgent thing. In fact, the times we spent together were not typically fueled by our V’Ríel and were most frequently only for the sake of sharing our love of each other. In some ways, that was the very nature of the V’Ríel I shared with Ella; humility, as I’d more and more been coming to consider it.

  Once she’d made her inquiry, we shared a quiet breakfast, and Ella stayed by my side, leading my guard detail while I began my day.

  When we stepped outside, the camp was a hive of activity. The morning routine was in full swing, as breakfast was winding down and the soldiers were just beginning to take down the first of the tents. After my long absence, I made a point of wandering throughout the camp, engaging with my troops when they passed by, offering my thanks and encouragement to as many of them as I could before it came time for us to be on our way.

  The march started off slowly that morning as we made our way south but soon picked up when the warmth worked its way into everyone’s muscles. After a few careful words with Ella, my guards spread their cordon around me a little wider, allowing me some privacy when I sidled up beside Stel.

  “You’ll have to talk to me sooner or later, Stel,” I said as we walked side by side, both staring straight ahead. “I’m not going to let you ignore me forever.”

  “Later?” He practically pleaded with me.

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Stel replied despondently.

  “I won’t lie to you, Stel, it hurts,” I began after a short pause. “But I know that I made the right decision. Venna would not have survived without you—perhaps literally, but definitely not as the same person she was. I simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing both of you.”