They trampled through death and grave; heralding pain and destruction.

“The Heroes of Light,” The Lich hissed “more like the Harbingers of Doom.”

The party made their way through the decaying corpses and lingering spirits of the recently slaughtered. Rapidly climbing the floors of the Lich’s tower.

The Paladin waved his mighty sword, slashing through his foes with intrepid hypocrisy.
The Cleric chanted their doom, weaving blessed spells of pain and sickness onto the helpless undead.
The Rogue, hiding in the shadows of the fallen, marauded their very souls; pride tainted his blade.
And the Wizard, who was not present. He went missing after the massacre of Phaleron; never to be seen again.

It did not take long for the three Heroes to climb the tower all the way to the top, where the Lich - the last line of defense - protected the remaining undead who have been lucky enough to escape the merciless invaders.

The wails of the hopeless, lost souls filled the room as the three burst into the room, bringing the barricaded doors down. The Lich stood in front of his last followers; back against the so-called Heroes.

“You have achieved quite the feat, haven’t you?” Spat the Lich, locking eyes with every last undead in the small room. “I suppose the three of you must be elated! Have you congratulated yourselves already?”

“Silence, fiend!” Roared the Paladin, preparing a smite. “Your reign of terror ends today.”

The Cleric started chanting her sickening, entangled fabric of holy spells. The Rogue, in response, hid from the light radiating from her staff; taking cover in the shadows cast by one of the many pillars scattered throughout the dark room.

“My reign of terror?” The Lich scoffed, still refusing to turn around and look the group of murderers in the eyes. “I’m not the one trampling through innocent lives, spitting on their ideals in the name of false promises of justice!”

“You know nothing about justice.” Cried the Cleric with melodic voice. Vanity permeating even the simplest of her actions. “You’re nothing but a monstrosity afraid of the light of redemption!”

“Perhaps. I’m not arrogant enough to claim complete knowledge over such complexity that is the matter of morality.” The Lich kneeled, trying to calm down the crying ghost of a child. “And if I’m a monstrosity because of my fear of your so-called light of redemption, then what is the Rogue, who scurries away from it.”

“I’m nothing like you!” Shouted the rogue with wounded pride, revealing his position. “This is called strategy!”

“You haven’t changed at all…” Said the Lich.

“ENOUGH!”

The Paladin howled, charging at the Lich with righteous fury. Only to come to a complete halt as the Lich turned around to face him. It was as if confusion and surprise had punched the Paladin in the face.

For in front of him was not the evil warlord he thought the Lich to be, but the kind Wizard he once called friend.

The Cleric broke her chanting.

“I- I don’t understand.” She said. “You disappeared after the Battle of Phaleron.”

The Rogue had stepped out of the shadows by now, showering in the light. Reflecting sins and prejudice all over the place.

“That was no battle, it was a bloody massacre!” Cried the Wizard. “You murdered every single person in that damned village, down to the last soul!”

“But they were the enemy!” Declared the Rogue. “They were evil.”

“They were no more evil than us. No more evil than any other person who fought for survival! For the gift of life.”

“How could you?” The Paladin asked in accusation. “How could you become a wicked, unholy Lich?”

“How couldn’t I? These souls were begging for you to stop the slaughter, but you paid them no mind! When their pleas were ignored, they turned to me; imploring for salvation. They did not want such suffering to continue. And neither did I.”

Silence loomed in the room as if it were a physical threat. The soft wails of the dead keeping it at bay.

“I used their souls as catalysts to amplify my powers, and with their help I did the only thing I could. I brought them all back from the dead. The brutally murdered couple; the child whose smile beamed with the shells of slaughtered dreams; the old man who had been stolen of a natural death… all of these tortured, lost souls.”

“I vowed to protect them. Together we built a city, away from the cruelties of human civilization. Far from their judging eyes - for judging eyes saw only the death that loomed on the surface, but never the pains and regrets that rested beneath.”

The Heroes of Light avoided the harsh gaze of the Wizard, shame tainted their act. The Lich continued, voice trembling in sorrow and regret.

“But despite all we have done to forget the past, all of our efforts; you still found an absurd excuse to justify your hypocrisy and murder.” Sorrow turning to anger. “And, for a second time, you came here to haunt these people, like the ghosts of doom you are!”

The Lich screamed the last words with desperate exasperation. Once again silence reigned supreme, only the huffing and puffing of the desolate undead could be heard.

After a few moments of oppressive silence had passed, The Heroes of Light took action once more.

The Paladin dropped his sword, taking a look into the last of the undeads hiding behind the Wizard - with fear stricken faces.
The Cleric wept under the weight of her sins, mouth shut; no longer chanting spells of agony.
The Rogue, no more in the shadows, felt the gaze of all upon him - for far too long he has been the judge, now he ought to be the judged. His skin crawled and he wished he could hide inside himself.

As for the Wizard, he has finally been found. But he has never been lost, in fact.