"Reunion"

Motion sickness washes over me. Or it would if I had a body or even living for that matter as I am the black skull. My eyes slowly open as I am being held by a reckless straad man. He seems to be running from something by the sound of his frantic breathing. My vision fades as the magic that once kept me sentient fades. But my hearing still works as I can hear the man blabber on about the crone ”Please hear my plea, Crone. As I hold your mantle of power. Give me a safe haven from those that seek to harm me.” My eyes open again as the crone grants the man’s wish. My eyes glow red as I summon the legba shop.

Before the straad’s eyes, an odd-looking chicken coop on large chicken legs is built. Each branch slams into one other, breaking into the precise sizes needed to create the shop. The straad does not wait for the stairs to be created, for as soon as he takes a step each step is made as soon as his foot touches it. He makes his way to the door and grabs the chicken’s head that is in the place where a knob would be. The chicken clucks as he twists its head.

He runs in and slams the door. Inside the chicken coop is an old magic shop. The windows show an old city that the straad recognizes as Piloris. The shop is full of books, herbs, trinkets, and crystals of many sizes and colors. He looks to the glass L shaped counter where the storekeeper normally resides. He quickly realizes no one else is present in the shop.

The Straad looks around, remembering the last time he was there. He smiles from behind the cloth wrap that only covers his nose and mouth. ”I guess no one is here to stop me from stealing all this stuff.”

A sinister laugh echoes through the shop as a broken man emerges from the shadows of a corner. One arm is a translucent blue and half of his face is rotten off to the bone. ”Alex?” the straad asks. The man smiles at the straad ”It’s been awhile, Baal.”

My eyes once again glow red as I hear a voice I have not heard in a very long time. My voice has not been heard since I was a living being maybe a few hundred years ago. I never had the will to speak until now. ”Son.” The voice is low and weak. But it is heard.