A requiem

An eerie breeze smelling of humid earth blew across the night-engulfed landscape. Dorren pine trees dotted the grim ashen soil. The wind made howling sounds as it crossed paths with a skull-tiled settlement in which living corpses dwelt. One of these corpses, clad in a crimson-red robe, tread through the deathly buildings, and unconsciously pulled his cloak around him, a gesture that dated back to his living days.
As he walked into one of these buildings, he greeted the other undead – busy sweeping dirt with a broom - standing at the door opening, and mumbled a quick few words into his ear. The undead put his broom down, and motioned for the red-robed figure to follow him.
They walked through small and nauseating corridors, deeper and deeper into the building, until the corpse opened the door, and allowed the other in, before turning around and leaving the visitor alone in the room.
Drathun sighed, and looked around the room. A few shoddy bookshelves with some odds and ends gathered on top of them made a semicircle around a chalked magical circle with multiple smears. He walked to one of the shelves – the least destroyed of them all – and swept his gaze over the titles, not with a few sighs. “The key to the ultimate power of death and destruction Vol.II”, “Crazy botanists – extreme herbalism”, “Tales of the grey murloc named Bob.” And “Ruling the world for dummies” were a few examples.
As he moved on to the next bookshelf, he found equally satisfying titles. “This is not what I meant when I asked for books that might interest me…” he thought bitterly. Suddenly, a plain grey book caught his attention - not because it lacked a title of any sorts, although it helped – but because he seemed to recognize it. He reached for it, and stopped himself.
Drathun blinked in surprise at his hand, a few inches away from the book. Completely intrigued, he made another attempt to grasp the seemingly plain bundle of paper, and as soon as a fingertip touched the cover, a piercing chill ran through him, as if stabbed with a few frozen needles at once.
Instinctively, he pulled back, and observed his hand. No injury.
Hell-bend on unlocking the book’s mysteries, he closed his eyes, braced himself for impact, and gripped the grey cover. If he was cold before, he was frozen now, a hundred icy needles were being pressed into his skin slowly but deeply, he was surrounded by a blizzard cutting into his skin, but not a single piece of ice was to be seen. Unable to bear the cold any longer, he dropped the book, and let out a white cloud of breath. As he looked down, the book was lying on its back, but was still closed, as if the pages themselves were glued together.
Forcing himself to remain calm, he sat down on the dirty stone floor, and tilted his head sidewards to look at the cover of the book. Plain grey.
Letting out a vile curse, Drathun slammed his fist on the stone, the book still lying in front of him defiantly. In utter irritation, he pressed his hands on the book, and fought the waves of frost with sheer anger. With a bestial roar, he opened the book, and upon laying eyes on the pages, his very being was frozen. The heart of all winters past and yet to come were united in himself, thousands and thousands of icy spikes were rammed into his person. If he was shivering before, he was trembling like a twig in a hurricane now.
Be he refused to be beaten, no matter what vile curse was placed upon the book!
As suddenly as it came, it disappeared. His eyesight was hazy and he felt cold, colder than death ever was. He looked down to the book with his troubled eyesight, and was surprised to find a large saronite-bound black tome on his lap. Closed.
Drathun felt the soft black silken coating, and hesitated for a moment. Holding the tome close to himself, he found himself a way out of the room, through the corridor, back into the main hall.
“Found anything good?!” came the amused question from some other room. “You got me there!” Drathun replied, and was followed immediately by amused chuckles.
Shaking his head, Drathun walked out of the building, clutching his tome to his chest.

He could almost hear a requiem somewhere far in the distance while walking back to Deathknell.

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((A little short, I know, but more yet to come!))