“I… I didn’t use my shadows or frost from my Wraith side because I didn’t want to overwhelm you after you revealed that it was your first time with anyone. But the Necromancy…” While one hand remained clutching the duvet to him in a death grip, the other he tunneled through his hair. “Lately, when I use it… every now and then, something happens. An unsettling sensation rolling through me, interruptions to my usage… things like that. It’s why I couldn’t complete Soul Track properly last night. It takes sustained and concentrated effort and it… wouldn’t remain stable.”
“How long has this been going on?”
He lifted a shoulder. “A few weeks.”
“Weeks?” I responded, incredulous. “That’s an inordinate amount of time to suffer through such a thing.”
“Not really. I was hardly employing my necromantic side. They don’t teach it here, so I figured I would be fine, that I could keep… not doing it. But my dad wants to take me on as his apprentice to guide me to the next level. So he’s instructed me to practice, to perform different spells and facets of my abilities belonging to that side of myself.”
“Then Sylas isn’t aware of this issue you’ve been experiencing?”
“No,” he answered in panic. “If he knew, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d likely be locked down atGlacialis Arx—our family home—and monitored every moment of the day. And then there’d be even more intense training. Intense training that could lead to heavier things, like… like—”
“Like performing Risen Reckoning?”
He jolted, eyes wide. “How do you—”
“Your grandfather left a dark legacy for all necromancers. I’d imagine it would be all the more suffocating for you as his grandson.” I finally reached out and made contact, grasping his shoulder. “You arenothim, though. You are miles away from that, entire realms, in fact.”
“We don’t know that until I taste more power.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “It is not in your nature, not even a little bit. Your worry is understandable but greatly unfounded.”
“Maybe.”
“Sylas must be made aware of this. I doubt he can feel these minor expulsions—only potent releases of necromantic power—so he’ll need to be told.”
“I can’t. No.” He started panicking again. “If I—it won’t… I told you that—”
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s all okay, beautiful,” I soothed. Stroking his hair, his nape, his shoulders, I told him, “I will assist you.”
He frowned. “What?”
“We will investigate this together.”
“How will you be able to do that? Necromancy isn’t a widely known discipline.”
“When the war againstPuritaswas raging, several necromancers who were being hunted by your grandfather at the time, delved beneath ground and took refuge with Excetra Crown. In exchange for the High Empress’ protection, they were studied. My parents believed at the time that Necromancy could prove to be the key to us emerging above ground with power and protection. However, it was determined later on that it could not be wielded by a non-necromancer, as it’s not just power, but inherent to their very being and cannot be separated.”
“Wow, that was a bold strategy on your parents’ part. And dangerous.”
“Indeed. They were dark times. Long before things shifted and Basilisks were able to rise anyway and walk among the rest of the supernatural world, because even with the Severance rendering the Celestial Plane’s threat to our existence null and void, my people were still hesitant to emerge, still vulnerable—until the accords with the Guardian Movement were set in place.”
“So, you’re telling me you possess deep knowledge of Necromancy?”
“Deep would be giving me and my people too much credit, especially given what a complicated magical discipline Necromancy truly is. Some things cannot be understood without possessing that specific death-aligned frequency, without experiencing the sensation of that connection you have to death resonance and undeath. But, yes, there is a lot that Idoknow,enough I believe to assist you with this and determine the source of this disruption to your power that you are experiencing.”
“Disruption?” he queried.
“Of course.”
“Wait. You don’t think it’s a lack of control? Or some subconscious part of me primed to do damage and wanting to go… dark. Like… like Morien?”
“The evidence points to the contrary. From what I witnessed, what you told me, and what I know of Necromancy, and the fact that you’ve had control until recently, this points toward something interfering, something new occurring. Perhaps you are registering an upset, perhaps there is purposeful interference. But suffice to say, all signs suggest this being an external root cause.”
He blew out a heavy sigh, his stark relief intense… and painful to witness.
“However, you really need to find a way to make peace with the Morien Morgrave aspect, to separate yourself from him. You truly are nothing like him.” I stroked his hair. “You’re the antithesis.”
