Doevm's journal entry #15: Of all the ironies in the world, what could be more ironic than a Lich who does not completely understand every aspect of dark magic? Maybe the reason behind my inadequacy is because I have no peers to consult. The last Lich I conversed with was too concerned about his precious so-called library to even think straight. I flung him and his pathetic collection into space, making me the only Lich in the world as of the current date. As a result, all I have to rely upon is magic and myself to find an answer to my questions: What is death, and why was I allowed to defy such a natural thing?

One might think my affinity with dark magic would assist me in coming to an answer. That thought is just one of the many, many falsehoods of human folklore. Desperate, I intensively researched resurrection in order to gleam a clue, a hint, anything. The results have been disturbingly random.

Through my research I have discovered that one does not simply just defy death. One must contend with it. One must yank a soul from death's domain and drag it into the plane of the living. There is no telling what could happen to the soul in the process. There is no spell to mitigate this unexplained randomness. The resurrected soul will become an Undead, but not just any Undead. My recent tests can best be explained as a parody of true resurrection, like that of the unattainable holy magic. Of all my tests, the closest to a true resurrection I have achieved produces a being I have termed: The Shadox.

Thomas slammed into the pillar. Cracks spiderwebbed up the inscriptions. He swallowed the section of Frey's neck he had torn off, and his ribs snapped back into place. "Bland," he said. The chamber's light crystal flickered.

"Thomas snap out of it!" Frey yelled as he and Elero got into a stance. Thomas slowly lifted himself to his feet and groaned.

The Shadox are similar to Ghouls, Zombies, and Vampires with two exceptions: they're boorishly weak, and pitifully basic. At least it retains the skills and memories of the soul, or it would be as useless as Ploly.

"He's gone?" Elero asked upon seeing the empty space where Thomas should have been. She got back-to-back with Frey and pulled two daggers from her spatial ring. "Frey, do you think you can keep fighting?"

"Yeah," Frey spat. A white, flaming aura mixed into his blue mist. "Knock him out or knock the sense into him." He cursed. "I should have seen the signs. Cover me." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His head tilted downwards as he fell deep into concentration. He knew where he was. He could sense Elero's little flame burning behind him, as well as a thorny gathering of cinders hidden behind the pillars. "He's to the left."

"Get down," Elero cautioned as her life-essence reinforced ears picked up the slight grate of bone on bone. Thomas bolted out of the shadows on all-fours. His sharp claws sliced through the solid stone like butter. One swipe tore the air above Frey's head as the giant ducked and countered with his mace, driving it hard into Thomas's chest. The former human didn't cry out in pain as he was knocked into the air.

"What the hell is he?" Elero asked as she ran towards Frey, who boosted her into the air. Thomas flailed wildly in the air but Elero was careful. Her daggers slashed through limbs. Muscle and bone. Thomas let out a hoarse moan as he hit the stone floor, his blackened blood splattering everywhere. Elero had been careful not to nick any arteries. Thomas remained crumpled, and unmoving, as his friends caught their breath.

Frey took a step towards Thomas but Elero stopped him. "Trust someone who knows from experience: dark magic will mess with your head. Don't trust anything that comes out of his mouth. Get ready in case he leaps." There was a strange sense of weight to Elero's words, but Frey couldn't put his finger on it. It was as if she knew what was happening to him, intimately.

Shadox are almost laughable, at first. Any beast can have black eyes, fangs, and claws. Shadox are essentially their former selves that slowly deteriorate after resurrection. They blabber on about flesh and eating but they can barely best human children, confirmed when I sent a couple to an orphanage.

This was disappointing not only because I lack control over resurrection but also because of the original purpose of my research: my past. I am changing every day. There are so many memories fading and appearing. Voices call to me when there's no one there. My only clue is my first memory, emerging from a cramped wooden box.

I am not a normal Lich nor was I born under normal circumstances, and my curiosity fades by the day. I have concluded that I must have resulted from a different form of resurrection, one even I do not know of. I sent the last surviving Shadox to guard my library and moved on. I don't know my past and I don't care to pry any further. It is buried, dead. I'll never know who that man from the swamp was. This experiment was a failure.

Thomas's hand twitched, and then his arm tensed. His eyes went wide as his entire body convulsed.

Doevm's journal entry #16: Shadox are pathetic. That was what I thought, but I was wrong.

Brown fur grew along Thomas's skin, which thickened. His claws retracted and his ears stretched into transparent, membranous tissue. His black eyes went wide. Elero and Frey looked at each other, not knowing whether to laugh or to put Thomas out of his misery. "He's actually kind of cute like this," Elero said.

"He tried to rip my throat out." Frey said as he threw a questioning look her way.

I was so very wrong. Shadox are not only weak, but they are also a source of mild hilarity. They are twisted embodiments of the infuriating lie: human potential is limitless. When I saw what the last Shadox had become, I experienced the sudden urge to go to a temple and have the Shadox consume the very sage who coined the phrase.

Shadox are weak because they are baby Undead. They eat. They grow. They can become terrifying forces on the battlefield. Eating an ox can give it horns like a devil's and hooves. Eating venison can give them antlers. They are what they eat. That's two human phrases. That means I simply must track down another sage.

I think there's still some humans alive in the Acrin Kingdom, or was it Vilbar? I can never rid myself of the damned vermin. Nevertheless, I am pleased as this experiment has led me to even greater questions, such as what will happen if a Shadox consumes a magic beast? What about a demon? What about a dragon?

"Welp, he's still transforming," Frey said as he and Elero looked down upon Thomas's shifting form. "So should I just…tie him up? We're not seriously going to wait until he's done changing, are we? Can he even go back to normal?"

Elero sighed as she looked down at her companion. "I know that he can come back. I'm certain Doevm wouldn't have turned Thomas into this on purpose. There has to be a reason an almighty Lich would make this mistake. Do you mind hitting him?" Frey stepped forward. "Aim for the head, I guess?"

"It's just…sad." Frey said. Thomas opened his mouth and lunged forward only for Frey to wrap a massive hand around his face. "Here goes nothing." He slammed the back of Thomas's skull against the cold stone pillar and more cracks spread through the inscriptions.

"Wake up," Frey barked. Thomas weakly went for another bite. His rabbit incisors barely scratched Frey's life essence. "Wake up." Slam. "Wake up." Slam. "Wake up." With one final slam, Thomas's deformed skull reached the center of the pillar, where a century-old enchantment had been carved.

A thin black thread shot from him and the chamber shook. "Oh it worked," Elero said as the black faded from Thomas's eyes. His body twitched. He both grew and shrunk as the fur vanished and a slight layer of fat returned to his tanned skin. In a matter of seconds he was back to normal Thomas.

"Frey," Thomas whispered as he blinked his green eyes. "Did a Bullfrog come after me again?" Frey looked to Elero, who nodded, reeled back, and slapped him. "Ow. W-why?" Thomas rubbed his cheek. "What did I do to deserve…" His gaze wandered to the fang marks on Frey's neck. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Damn right," Frey helped Thomas to his feet and pat him on the shoulder. "Listen. Just tell us the next time you get hungry. We can get you a bunny or may something else. Cannibalism is bad for your health." He chuckled.

"You got a sick sense of humor, you know that?" Thomas remarked. "I attacked you."

"Oh you did," Frey said. "And if you would have gone any further, I would have died of embarrassment first."

Thomas glanced at something over Frey's shoulder. "So did I make that?" Frey and Elero followed his gaze to a wooden box at the center of the chamber.

"No, no you didn't," Frey kept his mace and shield up. "Are you…in control? We might need you to fight soon."

Thomas rubbed his bleeding head and nodded. "Strangely, I feel fine. I'm not hungry. It's like I just woke up from a dream. I do feel a bit weak though."

"Stay close," Frey said as he approached the crate.