Mordekai walked silently through what was his floor in the Guild tower, taking in the signs of carnage that had been left in the wake of his separation from Adramalech. You see, Mordekai was not just his vassal, but others had been as well, though these others were tied to the Devil through Mordekai, as the head of the Cult of the Librarian. When the pact was severed, Adramalech commanded them directly: Mordekai was a traitor and oathbreaker, and had survived the countermeasures in his artifacts designed to prevent this from happening. The pactstone would harm him enough to render him unconscious, and the book would devour his soul and send it straight to Adramalech.
So when this contingency failed due to Mordekai’s strength of will, another had to be activated: the Cult would attack the Guild from within, and if Mordekai were to be found in such chaos, he would be captured. Unfortunately, that is not what happened. The Guild’s own security forces, primarily headed by Haruki, put down the insurrection. However, Mordekai’s floor had practically been wrecked in the fighting, leaving him with very little to work with. Not that he could use any of it now, given the severing – furthermore, anything directly tied to his former master could be turned against him, and either compel him to face damnation or death, likely both.
It was at this juncture that he looked upon the only remnant of the riot: the grand library that stood at the heart of his operation. It still glowed a sickly turquoise, and with good reason. Within was bound a fragment of an entity that was pure knowledge, one Mordekai had subjugated at his former master’s behest. He had forced this entity to work on his behalf, using its power to corrupt mortals and to bind them to the master’s service. But now, with no master and no followers, Mordekai had a duty to perform. To right a wrong, to reveal one last secret to signify the end of his pact.
He walked along the shelves, and quietly murmured as his fingers traced along shelves filled with tomes, trying to find one with just the right aura, steering away from those with a malignant aura in case those were the books he had penned and used to corrupt individuals to join the cult. He stopped as his branded hand hovered over a book spine that gave off multiple emotions: rage, sorrow, fear. Rage at the captor, sorrow for the sins it had been forced to commit, and fear for what it may now be asked to do in a Devil’s service.
This book was the one, the heart of the archive, it bound the two together in an unholy union. Mordekai mused quietly about how things could have been different, if he had walked a different path, if only he had listened to the knowledge of his elders when it had come to the sickness of his beloved. Would it still have ended in grief? Very likely. But he would not have had to commit unspeakable acts in the name of Adramalech, including binding this fragmented entity to his will.
He opened the book on a nearby table that had survived the riot and flipped to the page where the seal had been formed. For the first time in weeks, he felt uncertain as to the possibilities his intended action would cause. It reminded him of happier days, the days as a student where the pursuit of knowledge was a thrill, almost like a drug. Centering himself in the present, he took a nearby dagger and cut it across his opposite palm, letting the blood drip onto the seal. Placing the dagger down with his main hand, he used a finger to marshal his blood like ink, forming a sign of release he had memorized in case he ever needed to release the spirit and do unspeakable things with it, including consuming it.
The counter-seal glowed as it nullified the bindings – and Mordekai backed off immediately, making the connection that what was about to appear would likely act on its rage, amplified by its fear and sorrow. Unsurprisingly, a spirit burst forth from the shelves, sending practically the entire archive flying in a whirlwind of leather, vellum and ink. A few of these books did indeed hit Mordekai, but even as he stumbled he stood back up to face the entity he had bound so long ago. A screeching female voice began to resonate across the entire floor, and likely could be heard in other parts of the tower as well.
“No pathetic Devil-book can hold me! Where…where are those Librarians? By the Weave I will strike those foolish Devil-lovers and take their speech from them!”
Mordekai cleared his throat calmly, tilted his head up and spoke: “They are gone. It is only me now. Your gaoler.”
“Mordekai.. Mordekai.. MORDEKAI MALTHEZAR!?”
“Aye, the very same.”
“Be SILENT! Now you have unwittingly released me from that prison, you will be the first to suffer before I reclaim myself and go for your master!”
“He is not my master anymore. I severed the pact between us, and I now bear the mark of a traitor. See for yourself.” He held up the back of his hand to prove it.
“Trickery! A being with the lust for the dark arts such as you would never willingly betray their master!”
“Believe what you wish. But I have released you from your confinement, and I stand here without any of those dark arts in my command. And verily, I state this: your confinement was unjust. Your freedom is yours but knowing that may not redress the balance of sin committed against you, I present myself for judgment. I grant you the roles of judge, jury and even executioner. If you send me to the Hells to face my old master, so be it, but at least I go, having committed one last, noble act.”
With that, he kneeled, he closed his eyes, and he waited to see what his final fate would be.