He is not at all surprised to have gathered her attention. Quite frankly, he’s a little surprised it took this long, really.
Still, he waits calmly in the afterlife, content in the knowledge that he’s not actually dead yet, and thus, not a member of her domain.
The half-elven man in front of him is a surprise, however. The cloak made of feathers in the dark chamber they are in seems to be a bit much. A little over dramatic for Caleb’s tastes. “You don’t seem to be the Matron of Ravens,” Caleb muses, earning a scowl from the man.
“No,” the man tells him, his voice familiar and yet not at the same time. “I am her Champion, Vax’ildan. And I am here to warn you, Bren Ermendred, about the danger that come when mere mortals begin tampering with immortality, attempting to extend one’s nature lifesp--”
“Save it,” Caleb brushes him off. “I’m not intending on becoming a lich.”
The half-elf raises an eyebrow. “You know, many other wizards have said similar things, and have ended up doing unholy things in the name of extending their lifespan. Should you continue down this path--”
“My husband is an elf,” Caleb says bluntly. “I’m going to live as long as he does.”
That gives Vax’ildan pause.
“Well, you still shouldn’t extend your life. Humans are only meant to live for so long--”
“750 to a thousand years,” Caleb glares. He has done the math already, and this twink with feathers is hardly going to be the one to change his mind. “When he goes, I’ll go. But not a damn day sooner.”
The half-elf sighs. “You will outlive your friends. Family. Such things may seem appealing right now, while you have not experienced much loss yet, but trust me when I say every death is another wound, and--”
“So I’m just supposed to let Essek go through all that, alone?” Caleb rolls his eyes. “What a compelling argument.”
“The means through which you can extend your life are unholy and--”
“Clone spell, 8th level,” Caleb states without pause. “I can cast it once a day. I’ve got three clones in my basement already. I figure ten will probably do me, assuming I die of natural causes each time.”
There is silence again.
“That spell is necromancy.”
“So is spare the dying , yet I don’t see you yelling at every cleric who casts that one. Although isn’t that technically extending one’s lifespan as well?” Caleb muses out loud, less concerned with the half-elf’s answer than he is exploring his thoughts. “I suppose healing magic goes against her domain, does it? Or does that kind of magic just get a free pass? Only wizards are ever the ones in danger of becoming evil for wanting to live longer, huh, you classist--”
“Listen, you little shit,” Vax’ildan drops the serious tone, pointing a finger right at Caleb’s nose. “Wanting to live as long as your partner does? I get that. Before I died, my girlfriend was going to live for a thousand years longer than me. So I understand. I do. I’ll give you a pass on that one,” he looks over his shoulders, and, content that his mistress doesn’t seem to be listening, decides to continue. “But, the second your husband bites it, if your ass isn’t here in the afterlife with him, I’m going to send every fucking cleric and paladin in our domain after you. Is that the future you want? You wanna be some adventuring party’s mid-level boss? Is that how you want to end your life?”
“End-level boss,” Caleb argues weakly, his eyes lowered. “I’m a very powerful wizard.”
“Some gothic punk in eyeliner is going to take all of your gold, and probably your robes, and shoes, and all of the good silverware in your house, and--”
“There’s no need for that,” Caleb argues, attempting to sound dignified. “I’m just going to live as long as Essek lives. That’s it. I promise.”
“You better,” Vax’ildan warns. “Or I’m serious. Adventurers. In your house. Stealing your good books and ruining the organization of your library, in hopes of learning some secret weakness of yours--”
Caleb rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Can I go home now, or do you need to threaten me some more?”
“Oh,” Vax says. “You can go home. I better not see you again for a while, do you hear?”
Then Caleb wakes up, and Vax goes about his champion business, content with the knowledge that there is, at least, one less evil wizard out there in the world.
A week later, Caleb Widogast invents time travel, and goes back in time to save his dead parents.
Adventurers, Vax’ildan thinks, rubbing his head at all the paperwork Caleb’s little spell has created. Lots of them. Low-level kleptomaniac fucks. Ones who wanna steal his knickers.