After all I have done for the Allfather, he sidelines me to Project Sarx. When he asked, I killed the Bannerman and my servant. When he asked, I brought his soul back from Tibet. I have done all he asked without hesitation, but he hesitated when it came to trusting me with the future of his Empire.

  -The Journal of the Litch

  Heydrich stared at his long-dead flesh in a little silver mirror and wondered. Should I have taken death’s hand? Why must I yet live? His troubled mind circled itself as his ship dipped below the shadow of a distant mining station.

  “The G?ring-B?ring mining company has requested the assistance of the Imperium.” Explained Emperor Borman over a long-range message, “Many of their ships have been attacked by Chinese Pirates… And we lost communication with them a few days ago…” The Emperor’s voice was unsure.

  He’s hesitant, thought the Litch as he graciously nodded, then flipped the connection switch, and the communication chamber darkened.

  “They sense danger,” replied the Litch, “deeper plots… That is why he called me away from my work on Mordau,” he said as he carefully untucked a glittering silver mirror, “Mother Superior is frustrated with the progress of our work.”

  Reijl’s eyes focused on the golden mask of the Litch, “be wary… I sense unease in the Allfather. He works against you, betrays you,” the La’Anatula twisted pale visage peered through the mirror’s shining surface. His face had aged, for his soul reflected the wickedness of his thoughts.

  Heydrich nodded, “your fears turn to betrayal, again. Reijl, when the time comes, we will show our strength… We will take our rightful place in the Allfather’s Empire,” the Litch tucked his mirror into his coat pocket and looked out the window.

  Above, he could see a distant mining facility drifting through the depths of space. There is more to this than pirate raids, thought the Litch. His small vessel locked onto the facility’s signal and initiated a docking procedure.

  The Litch watched lazily as a stream of paper spat out of a printer on the vessel’s dashboard; his shriveled fingers fumbled through the excess, “the mining vessel placed a distress signal three days ago…” He said to the empty cockpit, “and called for an immediate evacuation…”

  He muttered softly before standing up and wrapping a worn leather belt around his waist. On it hung an antique German blade and his holstered Luger. The steam of paper gathered uselessly in an opening carved into the steel dashboard.

  After the docking procedures ended with the low hiss of joined cables and a klaxon, the Litch stepped onto the mining vessel and cautiously observed his surroundings. Around the vessel’s primary entrance lay hundreds of silent, frozen corpses. An announcement rang above: “A Radiation Leak has been Detected. Please move to the nearest exit. Do not collect personal items.” The Litch’s eyes narrowed.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The Litch drew his blade and surveyed the nearest corpse. Asphyxiation, he wondered, but there is still air. He looked up into the void and detected a strange feeling, how ancient, he thought. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the feeling. Curious. From the depths of the station, a presence tugged at him. The Shadows drew close, and he could feel their power coursing through him.

  Down from the main deck, he descended. Below, he could feel the steaming heat of the ship’s vast engines whip up around him. His mind remained transfixed on the odd feeling that now permeated his flesh. Down a long metal corridor, he walked, drawn by the entity he felt. A dim green glow emerged from the chamber before him. Light peered across his face, and the Litch found himself before a hulking winged creature.

  “By the Allfather?” He gasped as the creature turned around. With four arms and eyes, the beast recoiled at the sight of the Litch with his golden mask. He gasped, for he knew then that he stood before a Migmagod. In their hands, the Litch saw a primitive CODEX, “but you were all wiped out… The Shadows,” his voice faded as fear coursed through his blackened blood.

  “All but we… it seems,” replied the Migmagod as they filled their chest with air, growing in size until their wings engulfed the green light of the chamber and plunged them into darkness. The Litch drew his sword and held it aloft before striking at the darkness with his unholy blade.

  The Migmagod cried in pain before striking back with sharpened claws. Blood splattered on the wall, and one of their arms lay coiled on the ground. Paths amongst the stars coiled and spun into a tighter ring, a path visible to the Gods.

  “Foul beast!” Growled the Litch as he struck the Migmagod. They swatted and clawed in reply until Heydrich’s golden mask clattered to the floor.

  “By Hurona!” They gasped as they gazed upon the mark upon his heavily torn brow, and the thrice-marked eyes of death, “his Litch… So you’ve come for us at last.”

  “I will hunt down the servants of Hurona, until her plotting is exhausted…” His words poured from his mouth like blackened bile and blood, “and her children lie dead before my feet!”

  Heydrich sprang forth and struck the Migmagod’s heart. They gasped in pain before driving their hand into a portal on the glowing green machine. Their voice clawed and sank into the device below as their body melted into molten metal. The Litch recoiled and backed up against the wall behind him.

  “They’re escaping!” He exclaimed, “shit!” Exclaimed the Litch as he turned around and clambered down the hallway towards an emergency stairwell that led to the bridge of the vessel. He climbed and sprang until his empty voice was hoarse and coarse, then stood before the central control panel. With a shriveled, bony hand, he grasped its emergency power control lever and pulled it with all his remaining might.

  The facility darkened, and its core systems wound down. One by one, the lights around the facility darkened and faded as the backup generator hummed to life, and emergency lights flicked on. He stepped along the light, holding his wounded chest and face. His hands were covered with blackened blood.

  The Migmagod watched from the central system as access and control slowly collapsed as the station darkened. Their life held on to a dim candle in the wind, preserved in code. They closed their eyes and prayed.

  The Litch climbed back onto his ship and gripped his golden mask with tears in his eyes. The Migmagod’s claws had torn it to shreds. From his coat, he pulled out the silver mirror of the La’Anatula and stared deeply into its damaged surface. He sneered angrily before placing it inside an emergency hatch and jettisoning the darkened mirror into space.

  “Such a goddamned waste…” He muttered.