Somewhere beneath the perennial ice and snow of North County.
In a hidden crypt, tallow candles as thick as an arm illuminated the entire burial chamber, casting light on a Half-Lich whose body was utterly shriveled, his eyeballs and gums fully exposed.
Anyone who saw this Half-Lich would have been horrified.
Not merely with the instinctive fear of a living creature, but also with curiosity born deep within the soul.
Because-
He was tattooing himself.
Drawing on his burning soulfire, he scorched every bone and patch of skin in his body. When his bones began to melt and his skin began to burn, the Half-Lich controlled his power of the soul with his will, tattooing the patch of skin where the flames burned fiercest.
The intricate, arcane pattern consisted of 19,640,000 dots.
Every prick sent pain through his soul.
But to William, as long as he could return to his young master's side, this little pain meant nothing.
He lived for his young master, after all.
Without his young master, he might as well have been dead.
Now that his young master was waiting for him, what reason did he have to hesitate?
After 19,640,000 needle pricks into his skin, the soulfire continued to burn, and so did his skin. Yet beneath those searing flames, that shriveled patch of skin became clean and translucent. When it settled back into place over his face, his melted skull began to reshape itself, revealing the slightly gaunt yet exceptionally capable-looking face of a middle-aged man.
This was not William's original face, but an altered one.
William knew perfectly well that he was returning to his young master's side, not bringing trouble with him.
A change in appearance was therefore essential.
Feeling the lingering stiffness in his face, William did not rush. He drew