"What kind of moron am I dealing with?" A tall, imposing figure mumbles, shaking his head under the hood of his black cloak, enchanted so that his face is shrouded by shadow and mystery. He stands alone in the middle of a paved street in a suburb, his form dimly lit by the street lamps. His destination, a specific house, the source of a massive magical spike in the fabric that only one such as himself could notice. He just had to get there before one other could find it first.
"Who in the nine hells releases such a powerful surge? It can't be a child, no, much too powerful for that. So what kind of idiot am I dealing with?" He strolls up through the front yard of the two story home, before being nearly floored. 'Such hatred in this place. No human could live here, no, it must be a monster.' He stomps through the garden, intentionally trampling everything in his path, thinking, 'Petty as it may be, that felt good.'
He steps up onto the porch and sneaks up to the door, placing a black gloved hand upon it, which glows with black light for a moment, before dissipating, and his hand then travels to the knob upon the door, turning it, before pushing slowly, ever slowly, until he has granted himself entry to the house.
He finds himself in a dark living room with white carpets, a TV on the wall, a couch opposite of it, and two chairs, with the walls being a dark hard wood. He creeps slowly toward a set of stairs, and feels the source of the magical surge growing closer, and closer, until suddenly he can feel it! 'Why? Why is the magical underneath the stairs?'
Using the same process as for the outside door, except multiple times for the three locks, the door opens to reveal... 'A BABY?! How...How could a baby produce such powerful magical waves?' A sudden chill goes down the tall man's spine, and he begins to panic. 'N-no! The others! I have to get this kid out of here!' He silently scoops up the baby and rushes from the house.
Five minutes late finds the tall man appearing suddenly at the mouth of a cave, baby boy in his arms. He heads down into the grey cave, moon and twinkling stars to his back. He stops abruptly in front of a meter tall stalagmite, which he grips with his hand, and pulls. There is a click, and a piece of the wall to the right slides away, revealing a well-furnished room of polished stone. All of the furniture is black with red cushions.
He steps into the room, onto the lovely red rug, and sets the baby down onto the couch, seating himself in one of two chairs, the one in front of the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist, and a black glow of the tall man's hand, the fireplace ignites, bathing the room with warmth and light. His thoughts immediately shift to the child asleep on the couch.
'What am I going to do with this kid? A baby, a BABY, locked in a cabinet. I'm glad I got to him first. He was easy to get. If the others got their hands on a kid with so much potential... And my mind is wandering again. I must be going senile in my old age.
'Back to the most important thing. WHAT. AM. I. GOING. TO. DO. WITH. THIS. BABY? I could bring him back and mask his presence... No, the others were there, those people are surely dead. They'd abuse him anyway. I could give him to some magical old couple who never had kids... No, that causes problems. I could... I could raise him. Teach him. Care for him.' He looks to the baby on the couch, sleeping soundly.
He slides from his chair, and crawls to the kid. 'Why am I crawling?' He rises to a low crouch, and examines the boy closely. He has dark brown hair, almost black, very pale skin, even for a baby, and a tiny scar in the rough shape of a lightning bolt. He sighs in his sleep, and makes a small sputtering sound, before returning to his unconscious silence.
The tall man places a hand on the scar, and his hand glows blue briefly, before he withdraws his hand with disgust. 'Who would curse a child? To make on into a temporary phylactery at that!' His hand returns to the scar, and he focuses deeply as his hand glows a slowly brightening blue glow.
It takes not a minute before his hand withdraws, and the child squirms as black liquid oozes out of the scar for several minutes under the careful watch of the man. 'Such disgusting taint. Heh. That sounds funny coming from me. But still, pure evil was the only ingredient or emotion behind this spell, and yet, it is still so powerful! No true anger, or anything with actual raw strength, just... evil. Whoever did this... Whoever did this is a true monster. Even more so than any cannibalistic demon that washes down the flesh of its brethren with the blood of a unicorn, whoever did this is a monster.'
The man suddenly realizes that he had been thinking of the evil for ten minutes after the stop of the fluid and the return to serenity of the child. He sighs. 'There is no choice. I must prepare this child as best I can. Whoever did this to him will want to finish what he started. He must be prepared to fight back, or he will assuredly die.'
He removes his hood, revealing himself to look about in his twenties, with a multitude of scars about his face, and likely the rest of his body as well, with deep black hair, red irises, and skin even paler than the child before him. 'How am I going to do this?'
The man crouches in front of the child, contemplating his plan thoroughly, before he notices a pair of green eyes staring into his, the baby's green eyes. The man has no idea of the child's name, and as such, he just says whatever feels right, as any other would do. "Hey, there, Morsiecoris, I'm going to take care of you from now on. Heh, I haven't got a name to give you, really, so just call me 'Necromancer.' I'll always be here for you, kid, don't you worry about that."
The newly dubbed Morsiecoris just smiles at him, and Necromancer knows deep down inside, he made the right choice. The child will not die, not if he has anything to say about it. That's a fact.