Lich for Hire

Ambrose's greatest wish remained the same: to have a proper conversation with the Goddess of Magic.

As for the Lord of Spells, Azoth? In Ambrose's eyes, he was more or less on the same level as Leyla. If a divine war truly broke out and the Lord of Dawn brought his hammer down, the two of them combined wouldn't even be able to withstand a single blow from him.

They weren't even useful as shields.

But the Goddess of Magic was different. Mystrix was widely regarded as second only to Aion. Unlike Choralan, whose power was tied to the elven pantheon, Mystrix was a conceptual deity. She was magic itself, and her strength was unaffected by the number of her worshipers.

As long as magic existed, so did her power.

To Ambrose, Mystrix alone was equivalent to the entire elven pantheon combined.

If he could just speak with her even briefly, he was confident he could leave an impression. After all, it was well known that the Goddess of Magic was extraordinarily generous.

She was so generous, in fact, that when a mortal once attempted to seize her power, she didn't resist. She even aided him in ascending to godhood.

The result? The mortal overreached. Attempting to control the Weft itself, he triggered its catastrophic collapse. The former Goddess of Magic perished, and a new one, Mystrix, was born. From that point onward, all spellcasters had the limit of their magic restricted.

Mystrix sounded harsh, but in truth, what she implemented wasn't meant as a punishment, just a safeguard. Given the scale of the disaster, simply imposing limits on spellcasting was surely reasonable.

Mystrix's generosity showed in another way as well.

Any mage she favored could become her lover.

Because of this, for mages who referred to her as "my goddess," the phrase often carried a second, more personal meaning.

History was full of famous spellcasters rumored to have shared her bed—so many, in fact, that it was almost impossible to disprove spurious claims.

The goddess wasn't particularly promiscuous. Rather, in this world, it was the norm for divine beings to form intimate relationships with exceptional followers. Loss favored female drow attendants; there were legends of Choralan descending to bless elves in more ways than one; even the Lord of Dawn had devotees claiming to have spent nights entwined with him, though those claims mostly came from men and were therefore... questionable.

For gods, perhaps intimacy itself was a form of blessing.

Back when he was still alive, Ambrose had entertained more than a few fantasies about sharing such a "blessing" with Mystra.

Unfortunately, even after becoming a lich, he had never once met her.

Still, a goddess that generous couldn't be too hard to approach.

Even if he couldn't win her full favor, building some rapport would be more than worthwhile.

But Leyla hesitated. "I can't guarantee it," she said. "Although Azoth serves Mystrix, she rarely involves herself in conflicts between gods. She may not be willing to see me."

Ambrose nodded. That was understandable. This was a long-term goal anyway, and he hadn't expected immediate results.

"In that case, allow me to offer you the divine domain."

He was about to withdraw from the dream when Leyla stopped him. "Wait. This is only a projection. My body has long since merged with this land. If you want me to fuse with the domain, you must find my remains. Only by merging it with my bones can I be reborn as a true deity."

Ambrose felt a faint sense of dread. "...And where are your remains?"

Leyla looked slightly embarrassed. "At the heart of this forest lies a massive banyan tree where the druids' Emerald Council has built its palace. My remains lie beneath its roots... about three hundred meters underground."

Ambrose went silent. "Lady, I'm a lich. If I so much as approach the heart of the Emerald Dreamwood, the druids will kill me on sight. And you want me to dig three hundred meters beneath their most sacred tree? I'm afraid that's beyond me."

This was a suicide mission. Provoke the druids, and he might end up facing a dozen dragons breathing fire at him. Even his mithril body wouldn't survive that.

Leyla quickly reassured him, "Don't worry, I'll help you. Tonight, I'll modify the Dreamveil Barrier so most druids fall into a deep sleep. You can slip in unnoticed."

"Aren't druids immune to the barrier?"

"That was before. The Dreamveil Barrier was formed from my remains, I have absolute control over it now. If I want them to sleep, sleep they shall."

That was enough to convince him. Ambrose agreed.

His consciousness snapped back into his mithril body. The warning traps around him remained undisturbed. No one had come near him. Judging by the sky, dusk had already fallen. Night, too, drew near.

He found a concealed spot behind a large rock and waited patiently.

The sun dipped below the horizon and was replaced by a sky strewn with stars.

Soon, he sensed a shift: the Dreamveil Barrier had begun to change.

Moving carefully toward the heart of the forest, Ambrose saw exactly what Leyla had promised. Animals lay scattered across the ground, fast asleep. So did the druids. Some lay entwined with each other. Others embraced animals.

Despite a few eye-watering sights along the way, it was clear that the modification to the Dreamveil Barrier was working. Even the druids had succumbed to sleep.

"Good. Then let's pick up the pace."

Ambrose opened up his extradimensional space and summoned his jetflame armor, which he layered above his mithril frame. With the addition of a jetpack, he shot forward at supersonic speed.

A thunderous roar followed in his wake, but the sleeping druids didn't stir.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until he reached the towering banyan tree. There, standing atop a branch, was a young druid staring at him with blazing anger.

"What are you? What have you done to the Dreamveil?!"

Before Ambrose could answer, the druid leapt from the branch. In midair, his body expanded rapidly and transformed into a massive silver dragon.

Ambrose recognized him instantly: Brandir Sanda, the same druid who had once obsessively pursued Catherine.

Why wasn't he affected by the barrier?

Ambrose thought of a possibility immediately. It must have been the effect of a legendary boon, likely one that granted resistance to abnormal conditions, much like elves' immunity to the Dreamveil Barrier.

This was troublesome. Ambrose had no intention of killing anyone here. That would spiral out of control fast.

But the silver dragon gave him no choice. With a furious roar, it lunged forward and clamped its jaws around Ambrose's mithril body, causing the metal to screech from the pressure.

Ambrose sighed. He drew his anti-magic blade and drove it straight into the dragon's throat.