“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

The room around Ormin was dark and filled in every corner with stacks of texts. Once this place, this room on top of the tallest tower, had made him feel safe, made him feel at home. But now, his surroundings seemed to have betrayed him. They were frightening.

“You dared augur with the spirits of the dead, the spirits of hell,” said Ormin’s cloaked nemesis. “Did you not think we would find you?” The words clicked, and a forked tongue took measure of the air every other moment.

“I just wanted to know who He would be,” said Ormin desperately. “I just wanted knowledge. I dedicated my life to the pursuit of truth!” Ormin franticly gestured an arm at the room with all of its books and scrolls.

“And because of the knowledge you already had,” said the intruder, “you knew what would happen if you pierced that particular veil. You are no innocent for me to warn, Sage.”

Ormin collapsed backwards onto his leather chair, suddenly weak. “I just wanted to learn who He was. I couldn’t go on in this life, this chaos, without knowing.”

“And are you happy now?” clicked the reptilian thing, “knowing that you will be taking your knowledge to the grave?”

For the first time in his life, Ormin did not have an answer. “You don’t have to kill me,” he said, edging back in his chair.

The creature pulled back its hood, exposing the head of a snake. From behind its back, it drew a scythe, double-bladed, with one blade on each end pointing in opposite directions. The weapon was almost as big as the creature, and bigger than Ormin. It twirled in the creature’s clawed hands.

“Please,” begged Ormin.

Then the blade cut down, and the world had one sage less.