Fascination
Brianna had always been fascinated by death. As a child, she went out of her way to find deceased insects and animals, poking at their corpses and admiring the solemn beauty of an empty shell.
This was one of those days.
The red-haired child crouched in the dirt, examining the half-rotted corpse of a housecat that had gone missing some time ago. The sun was out, shining uncomfortably on her ashen skin, though she barely noticed it, so absorbed in the carcass was she. The way the ribs jutted out from under the rotting flesh, a stained yellow-white. The fur, matted with blood and covered in flies. The maggots infesting the flesh, wriggling in the putrid meat.
And above it all, she watched, utterly absorbed in the stinking, disgusting sight of it all. Brianna half wondered what it would be like to heal the cat, to siphon energy from beyond the mundane earth and animate the decomposing flesh. Surely it would be a thing of beauty, of wonder and joy.
But necromancy was forbidden. This she knew, even at the tender age of eight. Brianna may have been a child, but children had been punished over lesser matters than the practice of forbidden, dark magics.
And so the child left the cat under a tree in the forest, returning home to her concerned, terrified parents once more.
***
Brianna was not social by nature, and was not exactly considered normal. Her childhood fascination of death, rot and reanimation had bloomed into a wondrous passion for necromancy, forbidden though it may be. She practiced in secret, like a rat in the dark of night, hiding her supplies under a floorboard in her room. She made sure the jars were sealed, that her needle was clean, and no flesh left on her pristine floors.
She worked hard to maintain her cover or normalcy.
What is normal?
It was a valid question, and there were many answers. The perception of normal differed from one person to the next, warping and changing like the sea in a storm.
Sometimes Brianna wondered whether there was a place where her dark magic would be considered the norm, where she would not be shunned as an outsider.
It was her greatest wish to find such a place, or such a person.
***
Brianna's parents lay dead before her, bleeding crimson liquid through the floorboards and into the cellar. Their head had been sawn from their necks, bite marks ripping through their clothes and tearing into the creamy flesh.
Vampires.
There had been rumours of a wild coven in the area, but Brianna did not think it would come to this. Her parents lay dead before her, their bodies torn and mutilated almost beyond recognition.
And yet...
And yet she could not quite bring herself to care.
What a waste, she thought, striding to her room, the long black coat she wore sweeping across the ground, stirring up motes of dust that shone and danced in the sunlight as she passed.
I can't even use the bodies, she lamented as she left the house for the last time.
***
I've been reduced to living in a cave like a wild animal, experimenting on rats and whatever passes through, Brianna sighed, frustrated at her circumstances. How humiliating.
She could, of course, leave, but the cave – however cold and drafty – had become her home. It was peaceful, quiet, didn't smell absolutely vile, and most of all, nobody disturbed her there.
But then she came, a gateway of darkness surrounding her, the void waters sparkling in the vampire's hair. In an instant, she had the young necromancer's attention, speaking with a powerful, regal, commanding tone that demanded to be listened to.
The vampire's name was Khyn, and she came with an offer that Brianna simply could not refuse. She would give her power beyond her wildest imagination, all the tools and utensils and ingredients she could possibly need, and most of all, freedom. The freedom to practice as she pleased, the freedom to through off the shackles of her old life, and the unspoken expectations of the people. Their disgust and distrust; all would be gone, if only Brianna would take her hand.
The necromancer stretched out one trembling white limb, and in a flash of light and crackle of magic, the human and the vampire had vanished.
***
Brianna lay on the icy floor of the Winter Halls, mauled and mutilated beyond recognition, half her limbs missing and the others inoperable. Her head was next to her body, her neck a ragged stump.
Yet still she was conscious, the agony nearly unbearable but for one thought:
My mistress must succeed.
If it meant dying one thousand times, Brianna would defend Khyn to the last, for the vampire had saved her when she had been a hollow wraith scratching out a meaningless existence.
To her last breath, she would serve, fighting until she could not go on, summoning minion after minion of foul, putrid creatures until her magic was exhausted.
Until she lay down to die.
Then, with a sigh, Brianna's lidless eyes went blank, her body relaxed and docile as she returned to the void waters once more, to live again.
As always, she had served the mistress to her dying breath.
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A/N: Please keep in mind that I started writing this around one in the morning, so its certainly not my best work, but I'm proud of it. I'll just see if I still am when I'm actually awake.
Anyway, this is a oneshot covering my version of the life of Brianna, a necromancer in the service of Khyn, the vampiric antagonist of my friend Marcus' yet-to-be-published novel, Erewhon.
And I'm too tied to think straight, so I'll leave it at that.