@dcvotion has woken something
Being forced back into sleep was always both a blessing and a curse for the ancient mage. After weeks of sullying his hands with acts that he would rather not speak of, the very thought of them making him feel as if he would wretch, Khalid almost welcomed being returned to the tablet which housed his soul, a monument of stone that acted as both his sanctuary and his prison. His heart had been left broken and his spirit heavy yet again, a sensation that the mage should have been used to after all this time.
And yet, it grew no easier, being forced to commit acts so heinous that Khalid doubted the gods would ever forgive, regardless of how unwilling a participant he’d been.
Even in that forced sleep, however, the magician was given no rest - not truly. Maybe it was a punishment, the way his mind warped memories of his deeds into nightmares so that he might experience them anew, sometimes made more horrific than what had truly transpired. Trapped in that darkness, unable to wake himself up, Khalid’s spirit was left at the mercy of its regrets, his apologies and his pleas falling upon the deaf ears of whichever force believed that he deserved such torment. More than once, the mage had begged for it all to end - for his existence to cease and for his presence to be erased from the world, so that he might be truly forgotten, never to wake, but also never to dream again.
Of course, he would not be so lucky. Not when another master called him forth from the tablet, beckoning the Egyptian once more into the land of the living.
That first rush of air that filled his lungs as his form emerged from the stone was always a relief, as if he’d been holding his breath for far too long. The light that flooded his vision forced crimson eyes shut, while the sensation of, at last, being given a physical form once more had Khalid stumbling for a moment under his own weight, swaying as he, once more, grew accustomed to it. Muscles twitched for the first time in millennia, the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears seeming almost akin to the beating of a drum.
It was both the overwhelming sensations that flooded through him and instinct that had Khalid dropping down on one knee, his head falling forward as he waited, for another moment or two, for himself to settle back into his own skin. Only when his head was clearer did he lift it once more, eyes that were already weary from events long gone by and dread for what he imagined was to come this time settling upon the force who had summoned him.
Upon he who would be commanding him this time.
He blinked at the sight of a young man who appeared to be close to his own physical age, eyebrow raising slightly in surprise. Those who called him forth were usually far older, master magicians in their own right, weathered generals who had use for a being with such tremendous power. It mattered not in the end, however - Khalid could already feel himself bound to this boy, his soul shackled to like a prisoner who had no choice but to be dragged by his captor.
“What do you wish of me, Master... ?” The words fell from his lips in a hoarse whisper, spoken more than once to dozens of men who had come before this boy. A command would come, he was sure - perhaps after his new master appraised him, perhaps straight away, but in any case, it would come all the same.
And as much as he was dreading whatever was to come, Khalid knew that there would be no point in resisting.
