5I soon realize that the mage has removed his avatar-like form from this realm, and I decide to return to Black instead. He seems to have recovered from his paralyzing fear while I was away, and eyes me warily as I materialize.
"The mage is out," he tells me. "Do you still think you can defeat him?"
"I have released Jadie. I intend to end the mage, one way or another. Will you help me?"
A wave passes through the jutting spikes that cover him, a gesture that might be compared to raising one's eyebrows. "You did?" Then he is over the mild surprise and returns to his old self before answering my question. "And no, I will not."
"Why? What do you have to lose but your slavery?"
"The question is what I have to gain. I already told you, to the outside world I am dead. This is the only form of existence left for me, and I do not intend to end it to join your impossible quest."
My metallic surface ripples with frustration. "Will you support him, then, against me?" My eyes turn a threatening red.
He shakes his head. "I will stay out of this altogether. He does not need my help to defeat you any more."
I am pleased with his answer, and begin to extend my consciousness to different corners of the realm. As Black watches me, I create multiple copies of myself here and there.
He finally shakes his head, puzzled. "What are you doing?"
"I'm giving him an incentive to materialize here. While he fails to do so, I intend to make a racket like he's never experienced." This said, I simultaneously change all my selves to the equivalents of loudspeakers, all of me emitting a shrill banshee shriek. Grunting, Black curls up in mid-air in an attempt to block me out; I allow him to create a small airless space where I do not direct my sonic rage.
It does not take very long for the mage to appear, looking nonplussed. While I collect myself back together and the noise lessens, he enquires: "Very well, I am here. What do you intend to do now?"
I surround him with my rage, but he swats my emotion-packed dispersed form away like it were a swarm of flies. I turn cold enough to suck the heat from my environment, but he is equally unfazed. I barrage him with different transformations and elements for a moment, until he frowns and gestures with his hand at a mass of me trying to envelop his face. I am sucked back into a humanoid form, momentarily unable to change myself outside it.
The feeling is strangely familiar, probably an echo of the past when I was alive. My fury simmers, but is temporarily contained by the confusion caused by this new limitation.
The mage glances at Black, who is standing up again behind me, now that the situation has calmed down. "Don't you think you've had your fun already?"
I wave my arms in a simulation of sending a flood of burning lava in the mage's direction. "At least have the decency to face me when you talk to me, you smug -"
I never finish the sentence. Something stings somewhere in my neck, and I feel my face melt away along with the rest of me.
"I guess," says the glassy creature known as Black.
The mage is busy transforming the puddle of what looks like melted metal into a red, fluffy flame. He mutters to himself as he works. "I honestly don't see what you get out of torturing her like this. You must really hate her."
He snorts. "Hate her enough to die? To reduce myself to a ghost only to get to her? Oh, dear friend, what I get from this is simply fair compensation for my troubles."
The mage has finished rebuilding the flame, who sets off, thinking fluttery and pleasant thoughts and unaware of anything wrong in her existence. "I'm just saying that I think it is causing some instability. I had to interfere to mellow her down this round, because she was getting nastier than usual."
"Hn. She did offer to put me out of my misery like she did to Jadie. She didn't think of that before."
The mage peers at his servant. "Could it have been something you said this time around?"
"No, I played my part flawlessly; she never suspected a thing."
The mage finally shrugs and glances over at the oblivious flame-like creature, who is engrossed with creating butterflies with flower petals for wings. "Maybe you could do this a little more seldom, though? I'd hate to have to destroy her." He gestures at the flame. "It would mean losing our bait, as well."
The vengeful ghost grins. "Very well. Until we have drawn out the rest of the brotherhood, I will be more careful." He creates another spear and strokes it in anticipation. "After my revenge is complete, after we have destroyed what she lived for, awakening her to reality will be all the more rewarding."
In the meanwhile, the butterflies flutter happily around the red flame, with not a care in the world.
Author's note: Thanks to the reviewers who encouraged me to come back to this old story fragment and finish it. Or, well, to carry it over the cliffhanger of Chapter 1 in any case.