Not far from the Institute of war was a simple grassy hill. Nothing was spectacular about this hill except maybe the view it gave when the sun was casting the last of its golden rays over the surrounding area. Upon this hill stood a man garbed in simple black leather. A heavy woolen cloak the color of storm clouds wrapped around his figure while his face was concealed within the shadow of his hood. A few moments before, two men had stood there, but in a moment of confusion and fury one was slain by the other. The cloaked man flexed his hand idly as he examined the body that was cooling in the setting sun. Simple purple robes sat disheveled on the dead man, the hood that once kept the mans face hidden in shadow now sat crumpled between the luscious grass. The man knelt next to the body to examine his victim for a moment. A dark bruise had appeared around the mans neck where powerful hands had gripped and lifted the man clear off the ground. A twinge of sorrow spread across his face for a fleeting moment as he regarded the newly deceased, the look of horror that one wears knowing their death is inevitable was frozen forever on the young mans face.

"Why did I do that?" he mused to himself as he cast his spell without incantations or hand gestures. Unholy energy coursed through his veins and for a moment he became a conduit for the profane. He frowned with disgust, it sickened him to have such power at his beck and call. Death Magic came easily to the necromancer, not since the first time he cast the spell had he actually needed to recite the incantations needed to released the energy contained within a corpse. A thundering boom split through the air as the body of the summoner exploded in a chunky pink mist, bone fragments and tattered sections of robes landing a fair distance away from the small crater the release of energy created. The man ran a gloved hand through his inch long black hair and sighed. "Alone and lost in a strange land, and the first thing I do is kill the one person around that can help me.", he inhaled slowly before tilting his head back and taking a moment to observe the alien stars that began to twinkle as the sun began to make its way below the horizon.

The necromancer sat there on that grassy hill as the shroud of darkness took over where the golden rays of the sun had illuminated hours before. The night is carried with it a chill and he had wished he had means of lighting a fire. Instead he sat there staring at the lit structures of the institute of war that was a scant mile from where he sat. Light seeped from the windows of the various buildings and spilled out onto the landscaping of the surrounding area. The movements of the inhabitants of the center appeared to be random at best. There were figures dressed in the same purple robes intermingled with others dressed in styles that were foreign to him. With a sigh he finally resigned himself to journey down to the manicured grounds that he had been observing since the sun had gone down. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head he began his short trek down to the buildings that sat tantalizingly close to him, radiating warmth and light, he almost felt like a moth before a flame. Several times he would pause and listen for signs of being followed or track, for halfway to his destination the full extent of his folly had dawned on him.

"Hmmm..." he mused to himself, "I doubt they will be pleased to find out that I've killed one of their own...", he scratched his chin and slowed his pace to a walk, his mind busy exploring the possible excuses he could give if what he had done came to light. "A conflux of magical energies caused him to explode?", he shook his head, "Nah... To unlikely, they will never believe it...", he paused for a moment and stretched his arms, he was less than three hundred yards away from the border of light that cast around the grounds.

"What about telling them the truth?", a voice asked from behind him, "That you killed him in cold blood." before he could turn to face the source of the voice a prism of light encased him, freezing him in place. The sudden burst of light forced his eyes closed, unable to cope with the sudden increase of illumination. With half closed eyes he managed to turn to face his attacker, yet he only managed to catch a glimpse of her face before an orb of radiant light landed scant feet from him. He grunted with effort as he felt himself grow heavier, the orb in front of him was forcing him to his knees.

"What the fuck is this?" he gasped as the pressure from the lucent singularity forced him to his hands and knees.

"Just a touch of light" replied the woman in a cool voice. In a blinding flash of light the orb burst with such force that the man was tossed back like a rag doll. His scream echoed out in the night as he clutched his face in burning agony. He shoved his face into the dew covered grass in an attempt to find some relief from the pain that assaulted him.

"Why did you kill him?", her tone was remorseful, almost as if she had done something wrong, soft footsteps carried her around the man to stop a few feet away from his head.

"One more step" he thought to himself, even without using his eyes he could feel the spark of her life moving closer to him, "Just a bit more..."

"Have you ever felt the chill of Death?" he asked her while purposely making his voice sound tired and weak.

"What kind of question is that?" her voice was smug and self satisfied. "It's a yes or no kind of question." he replied, baiting her closer to him.

She took a step forward.

"I'll take that as a 'No'.", A smile spread across his face as he looked up at her, the tattooed pattern on his face glowing green with necromantic energies.

Luxanna Crownguard clutched her chest as the heat of her body was ripped from her. A whimpering gasp escaped her lips as she fell to her knees, her eyes wide in fear.

"Wha- what is this" came her question through chattering teeth as the necromancer stood before her. Darkness creeped around the edges of her vision as a foot to the center of her chest pushed her back onto the ground. Tendrils of shadow wrapped around her arms and legs, binding them tight enough to make any escape impossible.

"Are you afraid?" his voice was cold and unforgiving. Bounds to the point where she could scarcely take a breath and her body head seeping away she could barely gather up enough energy for a one word reply.

"Yes", a quiet whisper, barely audible over the rustle of grass in a midnight breeze escaped from her blueing lips.

"Good.", he locked his eyes with hers, "Whether you live or die depends on how you answer this question. Do I make myself clear?"

Lux shivered in her bonds, her normally radiant skin had taken on a blue hue. "Yes."

"Very well", he knelt next to her and leaned in so his face was a few inches away from hers, "Where am I?"

"Outside the Institute of War", Lux's voice was quiet and devoid of any of its normal bubbly energy. Hey sky blue eyes closed slowly and reopened only partially as her head started to loll to the side.

"And where is that...", his hand slid behind her head to provide support. The necromancer felt a twinge of regret start to blossom in his chest.

"Valoran...", her answer came in the form of a tired sigh. She closed her eyes again as her breathing became slow and shallow.

"You're not allowed to die yet", he cupped her face in his hand and frowned, she was as cold ice. "Necromancy is not the most delicate of magics", he sighed as his hand slipped down to her neck. He probed for a pulse – nothing. "Shit", he dismissed the spells that had bound her limbs together, she was no longer a threat and he needed that energy for what he was going to do next. With a practiced efficiency his fingers deftly undid the buckles on the sides of her breastplate then tossed the piece of armor off to the side. The necromancer unsheathed a ceremonial dagger from the small of his back while his free hand slid down the black fabric of the cloth separating her skin from his. In one motion he sliced open her top and revealed her flesh to his. Gently he placed his hand between her breasts. She was cold and clammy, but hers was not the skin of the dead...yet.

With closed eyes the man peered into her, searching for something tangible to only a few who knew what to seek. After what felt like an eternity it was found, the ember for her life, a barely visible against the void of damnation. He shuddered as the sound of movement reached his ear and threatened to break his concentration. In his mind's eye he focused on her dying ember of life and frowned.

"No time for incantations..." what once had been an inferno of life was now little more than a darkening ember.

"It is the duty of the dead to protect the living...", his voice was quiet and sad, "For a long time I have considered myself dead... Your pain is mine, your injuries are mine" With those words he cast his spell. It was elegant and brutal simultaneously. Every mark and injury upon her skin healed and the spark of life within her chest ignited once more, yet upon the necromancer the effect was the opposite. Injuries from battles past reopened once more. Blood flowed freely from gashes on chest and back while the skin on his left arm peeled and his flesh burned. Tears of blood dripped from his eyes as his body took on the injuries of every death Lux had experienced on the Fields of Justice.

It felt like he was hunched over her form for ages as the spell took hold. When his eyes opened once more they were tired, they were the eyes of a man whose body had been shattered by war upon war. The man gazed at his hand where it rested, skin that was once tinged with blue was now a rosy pink once more, shallow breaths replaced with a deep steady rhythm.

"I know your name..." came a confused voice from under him, his head slowly tilting to look at the source. "I don't know how,"

A warm hand cupped his face as he gazed into her sky blue eyes.

"It's Morgrid.", her voice confused, "Why do I know that?"

"It is the price I pay.", his eyes closed once more before he collapsed next to her, unmoving