“How is that possible?” Evengi breathes.
Brom shakes his head. “You will likely understand it better than I, Ghostspeaker. It seems that their spirits have remained here all this time, hoping, dreaming of some way to get revenge on the man who killed them. My ancestor. Somehow these spirits used necromancy to reanimate their bodies. They… they took my head.” He raises his hand to his neck where I notice that there is a trickle of blood running from a paper-thin mark across his throat.
I raise my hands to cover my mouth in horror.
“How is such a thing possible?” Evengi demands, glancing at me. “Ghosts do not have power to affect the mortal realm.”
Indeed, even I find it difficult to comprehend. Everyone knows that necromancy is the living manipulating the dead. There are no accounts of the dead controlling the living. But also, there is a darkness seeping into the land. A wild energy that gives power to even my own summoning of the dead.
There is a change that I have long sensed, one that lends power to the dead and inspires strength in the monsters. Shortly before I was born the third era began, the gods ended the second era with the promise that this would be the era of the prophesied end of the living. That if we do not do anything to change our fates, that it will be the last era.
Those that once existed in the darkness and shadows are now emboldened. They call this the era of the monsters.
Things that were once impossible are now becoming a nightmarish reality.
And I say this as a necromancer who was raised by a vampire, who fully expects to someday become a vampire myself.
Monsters and the dead are terribly bad for business. But more than that, I will not have some dead necromancers putting on airs and thinking that they can really get away with killing my fiancé.
I don’t care how long their spirits floated through Sunder Hollow thirsting for revenge. That wasmyfiancé.
I curl my hand into my fist. “Which is why they needed their old bodies for the task. The must have reanimated their own bones for their bidding.”
“But how can they control them when they are dead?”
I press my fingers against my lips. “Every day the powers of the demigods grows. It is why sorcerers are becoming more of a threat.” I turn to study Evengi. “The power of the demigods has always transcended death. After all, the demigods have been dead for all of history and yet sorcerers can still harness their power. What if Tilbor’s power is so strong now that even the dead can wield it?”
I give my head a sharp shake. To be honest, I’m disappointed in myself for not realizing this sooner. Tilbor is my patron after all, the demigod of the dead. I should have realized that his power had grown so much that it had reached this point.But I was so caught up in my own personal sorceries that I didn’t notice my own patron plotting against me as well as the rest of the living while he conspired with those that he always considered his dominion. The dead.
It gives credence to the voices of all the naysayers who have hated sorcery and made it illegal. They did not want sorcerers wielding a power that they did not fully have control over, always fearing what the demigods might be plotting even in death.
All my life I have scoffed at them, but now I wonder if perhaps I was the foolish one after all.
Brom’s eyes are haunted as he looks at me.
“So, you’re saying that your killers are actually an army of undead necromancer spirits who are using their dead bodies as puppets so that they can still have a control over the world of the living?” Evengi demands glancing between the two of us.
“I am afraid so, yes,” Brom replies.
“Your spellbook?” I ask stepping toward Brom. I reach for his arm just as I have done on numerous occasions. Only this time my hand passes straight through his arm. I choke back the tears rising in my throat.
I may have never truly loved Brom, but I did care about him. I was going to marry him. I’d planned to spend the rest of my life with him. This is not the future I had envisioned for us.
Brom looks down at my hand as it passes through him and sighs. “It’s still attached to my belt on my…body.” He grimaces. “Even though the necromancers cannot actually use it, they are gleeful at the thought of Borus the Conjurer’s great spellbook being in their control.”
I pace away shaking my head. That is not good news, but I suppose that it was too much to hope that the necromancers would not recognize the spellbook that was their undoing. Even if they cannot use it, they will keep a hold of it.
Somehow, we must get it back from them. That spellbook may just be our only hope of defeating the necromancers. After all, it defeated them the first time.
“What became of me is of little importance now, there is nothing to be done that can undo it,” Brom says, his tone heavy with sadness. “I’m here not for myself but for you. You need to arm yourselves and prepare for a fight.”
“Why?” Evengi asks stepping forward. “What is coming?”
Brom’s voice cracks as he replies. “Me, I am. And even now there are a hundred eyes of the necromancers watching you from the spirit realm. You can’t escape them; you have to find some way to stop them before they fulfill their dark purpose.”
“What is it?” I ask, glancing toward Evengi. “Why are they so intent on us?”
“Because they wish to be reunited with their bodies and achieve what they consider immortality by escaping their death. And in order to complete the ritual that will give them this power… they will need the heart of a necromancer.”
