(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

of my dagger being unsheathed.
~~~~~
"You offer me cantrips and castings for novices," I had snarled, "I could've
walked into a parlor and purchased what you offer, then wiped myself with
the scraps. You'd better have something more to my liking, servant."
"Oh I do, I do!" all pretense of its sniveling, its bowing and scraping had been
nearly gone, and it spoke with barely-restrained glee, "I promise you this:
magic beyond your ken, and beyond the power of most mortals lie in the
next pages. Oh, you will be the envy of archmagi, I promise you this."
It no longer addressed me as 'master,' but that was of little concern. I shook
the tome furiously, nails digging into soft, fleshy hide that bound it. "Then
give it to me!"
"You must have patience! You have already shown yourself willing to do
what it takes to achieve this power," the book had hissed, a little too snarky
for my liking, "and you must realize that you WILL pay for this power."
"What do I have to do?"
"Do you have companions you are willing to betray?" it had asked as if
revealed a toothy smile.
"How about Annah?"
"I care not who, as long as you show yourself willing. Go now and do it." It
almost sounded like a command.
~~~~~
My fingers clung loosely to the hilt of the dagger, soaked in blood from
blade to pommel. The heat that stained my hands was slowly trickling away,
dripping to the floor in small red splashes.
There was a lesson to be learned, surely, and I mused on it as I sat on the
edge of the bed and stared at Annah's body. I meditated as I watched her
grow cold.
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