Azalin was a lich, a thrice-damned lien.

My first overpowering impulse was to destroy the thing. It was a threat far greater than any I had ever faced before, but I knew I was not even remotely prepared to attempt such a task. Had I been fully versed with my most powerful spells and weapons I might have had a chance against him, perhaps. But he was rapidly regaining full consciousness, and my next action would likely dictate whether I lived or died. My second impulse was for immediate self-preservation. I quietly lay back down and shut my eyes.

It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, to lie there apparently stunned while not ten feet away what was now my worst enemy stirred itself.

I had to make a conscious effort to remain absolutely still. Keeping every muscle utterly relaxed under the present circumstances required an astonishing amount of willpower when every instinct screamed at me to move. It was a true battle between reflex and resolution, and though precious instinct had saved me often in the past, this time I must not give in to basic impulse.

I managed to hold quite still, inspired by the knowledge that if Azalin found out my deception he would instantly understand that I'd discovered his great secret. And that would be very bad for me.

I heard more sounds from his area of the chamber, the brush of his bones against the stone floor, a ghostly groan. Whether it was an expression of physical or mental distress, I couldn't tell. Could such creatures feel bodily pain in the same sense as other beings? Never before having encountered such a powerful being, I did not know.

After a few moments, I stirred and moaned and let my eyes flutter open in what I hoped would seem a normal manner. Now did I allow myself to look around, doing my best to recreate my initial reaction to the destruction, being careful not to overplay things. When my gaze fell upon Azalin, he was already getting to his feet.

His illusion was firmly in place; he looked the same as ever, except for his gloves, which were gone. Probably torn or burned from his withered hands when-

Stop that right now.

If I started making mental comparisons between the illusion and what I knew to be reality, it would affect my behavior and be a giveaway to him. In all our time together, in all the recollections he'd passed to me, he hadn't once dropped the least hint of his true self, and quite wisely. Had I known, I would never have given him my shelter and protection and would have done my utmost to destroy him.

Perhaps I wasn't animate in the same way as others, but I did retain a spark of true passion within me, and that made me a closer, more willing ally to the living than to this creature. Final death could still ultimately claim one such as myself, but a lich was already dead, a collection of bones existent by the foulest kind of dark magic and its own monumental determination to dwell beyond its normal span of years.

While I still supped with pleasure from life's table, still held my place as a predator in the workings of the world, not so for a lich, who had given up all such pleasures, embracing and at the same time defying death itself for continuance, empty continuance. The cold revulsion Azalin inspired in all who came near him was quite justified.

With all my contact with him I had grown used to that kind of cold, successfully ignoring it. The reaction I had now was not aversion to his physical form so much as the fact that when it came to magic, he as a lich was more than powerful enough to challenge me and win. Indeed, the only thing holding him back from such conquest must have been our bargain, the necessity of our having to work together. That could change, though. It might have changed already with this catastrophic failure. I had to play this out very carefully and not provide him with the least suspicion that his secret was no more, that I had realized my terrible vulnerability to him. His pretense must continue.

Barovia was little enough, but all I had. It was also my only hope of seeing Tatyana live again. To save her, to save that which was mine, I would do anything, even take on the perilous task of trying to destroy Azalin.

But I dared not surrender to that impulse just yet. This was not the time. Even had I been rested and ready for just such a confrontation, i still would have been hard pressed to overcome a being with Azalin's power.

I stood-my limbs surprisingly steady after what I'd been through and what I was currently dealing with- and surveyed the damaged chamber with him. To continue the pretense that I was still ignorant of the truth I had to react as I would normally, which would be easy enough to emulate, for it was already boiling up inside.

I fastened him with a stony gaze, trying to suppress my rising rage. "What went wrong?" I whispered.

His eyes glowed red, untouched by the fading moonlight coming down from the shattered window. "I don't know yet."

"You must have some idea."

"As you must also."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you to make a severance with the land."

"You cannot blame this disaster on such a flimsy detail."

"You are the one who chose to blind himself to the facts, so yes, I may place the blame for it upon you. I said your tie to the land was too strong to be broken, and this more than proves me correct."

"It wasn't meant to be broken; the breakage was to be the barrier that separates Barovia from its original plane. That was clearly understood."

"By you alone, I gave you fair warning of the foolishness of that theory."

"You said you would compensate."

"I said I would try. I guaranteed nothing."

"Ever the lament for those who fail. All this time wasted, all this effort for naught!"

"Not completely." He turned slightly from me, looking over the remains of his precious laboratory as though nothing were amiss. "Even negative knowledge can be useful."

I choked, not needing to falsify my reaction to his apparent serenity. With the passing of my initial shock it was easy enough for me to fall back into what had become our usual pattern of argument. At this point, had I still been ignorant of his secret, I wouldn't have been able to endure another instant of his company.

Drawing back upon myself-this time unimpeded by the turbulent flux of magicks-I initiated the change and a moment later was airborne, strong wings beating the thick air, lifting me toward the hole blasted into the roof. Part of me half expected that he would try attack while I was in this small and somewhat more vulnerable form, but in my mind I was confident that he was still unaware of my realization. He'd seen me in a temper on several occasions and was used to my leaving in a sudden manner. Such displays weren't likely to affect him. In the past, peering into my crystal, I'd seen him simply continue with whatever he had been doing before the disruption. Presumably that would happen again now, and he would busy himself trying to work out what had gone wrong. I could assume that he would be glad I'd left so that he could freely concentrate on the problem.

The proof of this was his lack of action against me during the next ten seconds. I was tense all the same until I had cleared the gaping hole. I easily avoided the twists of hot lead framing, and broke away into the clean night air. Now did I purposely exhale, purging my lungs of that pervasive death stench. It seemed to cling to me even in this form, inspiring me to fly faster to escape it. The keen mountain wind flowing from Mount Baratak helped to pare it away.

Swiftly following my black moon-shadow on the ground far below, I arrowed straight for Castle Ravenloft. The land climbed to meet me as I left the manor house in the valley behind. At this point it's easier to go around this high spur of Baratak than over it, but I was in no mood for sparing myself and skimmed dangerously close to its rocky shoulder to save time.