On an island surrounded by a vast, moonlit sea, two figures stood stood, taking in a great view. One figure, tall, thin, and hooded. The ripped cloth of his robes flowed with the winds. The other figure, much more bulky and hunched in stature. His curved, beaked nose and red hair was illuminated not the light of the moon, which seemingly passed through him, but rather from a faint foggy white aura surrounding him. Though he was heavyset, he floated lightly.

"Spirit, do you remember who you are?" Said the hooded figure. His gaze still intently fixed on the horizon. They could see a stone tower, which looked minuscule from the distance.
"Yes..." Said the older man, who was floating there transparently.
"..And do you know why I summoned you here?" He slowly removed his hood, letting the cool sea air blow through his
silver hair.
"Yes, though what you ask of me cannot be done, without the return of a favor." He turned to look at the person who conjured his spirit from the grave. For a brief moment, he saw some familiarity in the boy, with flashes of memories of his long, silvery white hair, bright red eyes, and fair complexion. And the tattoo under his left eye. The memory of a teardrop. But as much as he tried, he could not truly remember him. All of the memories he had left where of his own name, and this great, watery sea of a grave.
For the longest time these seas were very calm, and the protectors of the small islands that dotted them had long
since abandoned them, just as they were once too abandoned. The waters were free of darkness and despair. How much longer would it last? They water beginning to stir.
"The tower to the northeast is a sacred place. You cannot enter in this form. But I have the knowledge you remember it's structure. Tell me how you managed to enter." The silver haired boy was calm. His voice was soft and slightly melodious, but the words he used whipped from his tongue like a serpents. They were commanding, and the infliction of his will was forced
upon the spirit. Though all that passed through the soul of this ghost was a watery grave, he was suddenly overtaken with bright, colorful memory, unlike any he had since his death.
He recalled the stone tower in it's hues of grey, and the vivid blue waters reflecting upon it. Stone columns and arches formed a circle and the tower reached toward the skies at the northern most point of the encircling archways.
"The entrance.." He began, almost too overwhelmed by the memories. "is guarded by many trials. It wont be easy. And at the end, lies a guardian, created by the gods themselves. Humph... How do you expect to venture in there and live?"

"My name, you will soon know. And when you do, you will know my power, and my intentions. Only then, will you remember who you are. You must remain empty for the time being. You must be a shade for a hint longer, but this time will seem short, compared to you seemingly eternal life." The boy ran his hands through it slowly. He finally took his sights off the sea, and back to the summoned spirit. He breathed in the salty air deeply, and exhaled. The sounds of the ocean waves caressing the triangular island filled their ears and small blades of grasses and flowers danced at their feet.
"How is it that a mere child can summon spirits, especially a dark one such as I?" Grinned the spirit. His pale skin still had a slight green and tan tinge, and his wild fiery red hair was streaked of grey.
"Your underestimations placed you where you sleep. And if you do not heed me, you will return once again. But the one who controlled the wind had a twin. Not a fake or a clone, but a full borne twin. The waker of winds had a brother, known as the waker of death. One who could face death and make it kneel before him, and bend to his every intention. Observe my power!"
Out from the boys cloak he pulled out a small wand, similar to a conductors baton. It was beautifully crafted, with a creamy ivory. But at a closer inspection, it was clear it was crafted out of twisted, crooked bone. He closed his crimson eyes, and directed the wand toward the sea.
The winds picked up, passing through the spirit,and whipped through the boy's robes, calmly at first, and then quickly building around them. The point at which he directed began to churn the sea, picking up the waves. The sky, painted with constellations, then smeared with hues of grey and clouds swirled around them from above, and began to flash with light and sparks of electricity, as the sea began to spin from a point.
Then, with the whirlpool spiraling before them, ghostly swirls of violet fog erupted, and from the water, ripped black cloth, attached to rotting, wooden masts. They rose out of the sea revealing a great vessel. It glowed with a fog like the spirit on the island next to the young necromancer.
"Behold the ship that carried many to the next life, and will bring you to yours. She's longed for a captain. Our time with her will be short though. These seas will soon be mine to command, and you will help me."
"In my helping you, you must promise one thing. Return me to my body, beneath the sea."

"It shall be done."
The storm raged on around them. The night seemed longer than usual.