In an alleyway close to the storehouse that had now become her main home, a sad smile found its way to Rushia's lips. The day prior, she had passed through the same streets she crossed nearly every day, but there was a certain melancholy in knowing that she would not be using them to get to the mansion again. She had also not slept well, an ailment which had its root cause on both her hunger and sadness.
Tired…
Rushia yawned and rubbed her eyes. She knew she needed to find sustenance soon. Water wasn't a problem, as she had learned where the city's various wells were located over the years, but food was usually closely guarded by the ones who possessed it. She considered thieving, but silently told herself that she was still not in such a famished state to attempt the risky feat of stealing from the marketeers.
The girl glanced at the book she held. Much to her dismay, the closed up storehouse let next to no light in, making it impossible to get any reading done there. As such, she had left both the blanket and her old clothes at the building and in the early morning hours, clad in her new dress, decided to go out in order to take a look at the gift she had been given by the generous mage. This small alley had been her choice to stop at precisely due to it being so rarely used, but nonetheless she couldn't help but look around, confirming there was no one in sight.
This book… It looks so expensive. I wish I could read it inside instead of out here...
She flipped the decorated cover of the volume, taking care not to damage it, and set to reading.
The contents were as expected. The first pages introduced the magic, and presented a firm warning. It mentioned the very word of necromancy was taboo, and discussing it was enough to get one kicked out of most cities, to say nothing of actually practicing or studying the magic. After all, it was a subset of black magic, a type of witchcraft developed by the fearful demons in immemorial times, and as such it certainly couldn't be used for anything of good, or so had most kingdoms preached for the past centuries.
Although this made Rushia feel dispirited, she did not halt her reading there, for the book quickly went on to state the following:
Due to its nature, it's not only dangerous but also subject to many prejudices. Even so, this is one of the most powerful magic types, and can certainly be used for the greater good if it is held by the right hands.
Her curiosity flamed, Rushia read on. And surprisingly, despite her initial aversion to it, she realized she was becoming quite enthralled by the possibilities mentioned in the book. One page mentioned how even a low-level necromancer would be able to speak with the spirits in places where their presence was stronger, such as graveyards. Others touched upon the complex "animate dead" spell, and how the undead formed from it could effectively serve as partners to the necromancer. The more she read, the more the notion of necromancy as something of evil seemed foolish.
If anything, it sounds interesting… The poor undead must be lonely, having only themselves to talk to. I guess they're a bit like me in that regard. She sighed to herself.
And so, Rushia kept turning the pages. As she had nothing to write on, she made sure to read it as attentively as possible, attempting to memorize both the practical and theoretical information contained in the book. It was only when the sun was nearly touching the horizon that she noticed how long she had been there. Her legs sore, Rushia slowly propped herself up. Her stomach grumbled, complaining about the long hours without food. As she stretched, the distant voices coming from the more vibrant parts of town resonated within her ears, along with the singing of the birds that had made their nests nearby.
"I guess I have to find something to eat now…" she murmured. She had been so engrossed in her reading partially due to wanting to escape from the reality of the situation. There was nowhere to go except for a decrepit house that could come apart at any time, and no food was waiting for her there.
I guess I really don't have a choice but to steal. It won't be easy, but I'm small enough that they won't notice me immediately… Rushia gulped nervously. If she was going to do it, she would have to be fast. The hour was late, and it wouldn't be long until the streets became deserted.
As she was pondering on the best way to go about it, she did not notice the crying of the bird nearing. It was only when its flapping wings were close enough to touch her face that she dodged, barely avoiding a collision with the black and red blur.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" She couldn't help but exclaim.
She looked behind her in anger, but her expression soon changed.
"Oh no…"
The bird that had nearly hit her face was lying on the ground, immobile. Blood was dripping from its tiny body into the ground, and one of its wings was open in an unnatural position. Feathers were also missing from it in various spots, giving the animal a slightly disturbing look. Rushia approached it carefully, her worries having disappeared for a moment.
"Did you get into a fight?" She mouthed, crouching in front of it.
The bird did not show any reaction. Slowly, Rushia took its tiny black body in her hands. She wasn't sure why. Usually, she averted her eyes from dead animals on the street, but having seen one fall in front of her, she couldn't help but feel bad for it.
"Poor thing…" She gently hugged the corpse. "Sorry I couldn't help you."
Almost unconsciously, Rushia started humming. It was a song she hadn't heard in years, something her mother sang to her to help her fall asleep. The lyrics were long gone from her memory, but the melody had remained.
She slowly stroked the bird's broken wing, her serene voice enveloping them. If someone were to pass by at this moment, they would certainly be mesmerized at the scene of this lonely young girl, far from everyone and everything, humming some beautiful song to a fledgling. They also might, if they were a particularly observant fellow, have noticed the faint halo of light that had surrounded Rushia for a brief moment. Alas, no one was there, and this scene, charming enough to be made into a painting, was witnessed only by the skies.
As for the song, it never quite reached its end, for Rushia suddenly felt movement coming from her hands.
"Eh?"
Opening her eyes, she found the blackbird was slowly moving again. It shook its wings, as if stretching, but did not take flight.
"Wha- Did I accidentally cast healing on it?" Rushia questioned herself.
She knew that couldn't be true. The bird had no heartbeat when she picked it up, and healing could not bring back the dead. The only thing that could was…
Necromancy?
She had some difficulty accepting that she had suddenly cast a necromantic spell without trying. From her experience, learning a new magic art took dozens, sometimes hundreds of attempts before one could successfully cast even the most basic of spells. Plus, she hadn't even performed an incantation! And yet…
The bird hopped around in Rushia's hand, almost as if waiting for orders. Although its wing had not healed, it didn't particularly seem to care.
So, would this little guy be… an undead? It looks just like a regular bird though…
As she pondered what exactly had just happened, her stomach grumbled in protest.
Oh, that's right… I still haven't eaten anything.
Almost immediately after the thought passed through her mind, the bird suddenly lifted itself and flew away in such a swift manner no one would believe it had been at death's door just moments prior.
"Woah!" exclaimed Rushia. "Did I scare him?"
The answer would come a mere minute later, when the animal came back, carrying something in its orange colored beak.
"This is…"
It deposited a slice of yellow cheese in the girl's hand.
It must have stolen it from some shop…
"Did you bring this for me?" she asked the dark bird, who simply replied with a chirp.
Rushia took a nibble. It was quite fresh, and she couldn't help but devour the rest.
"Thank you so much. It was delicious." Rushia smiled, petting the bird.
It let out a small cry and snuggled against the girl's hand.
As the weeks passed, Rushia kept practicing necromancy using the book she had been given as reference. Unlike the other times she had attempted to learn a subset of magic, casting necromancy-related spells seemed to come to her with incredible ease. She was quickly able to perform most of the vast basic and medium level spells described in the volume, despite only attempting each a few times. It truly baffled her, and she couldn't help but recall what the mage had written in their letter: you possess large magical potential…
Still, there was one spell Rushia was going to perform for the first time today. This had nothing to do with the difficulty or complexity of the spell. In fact, it was one of the very first spells mentioned in the book. She had simply been avoiding it up until then.
A necromancer who casts this spell shall be able to speak with the spirits of the dead in places where their presence is stronger. An experienced user might be capable of speaking with multiple spirits at once for great lengths of time, while a novice can consider themselves lucky if they manage to summon one for a few minutes. The spirits will only be visible to the necromancer, though skilled magic users may be able to sense their presence.
It had only dawned upon her after reading these words, but she had not properly spoken to another human in years. Her only communication, up until recently, had been to herself, and she felt a bit apprehensive at the notion of suddenly talking to someone else.
What if they get angry, or refuse to speak with me?
Such thoughts had stopped her from attempting the spell before. However, as her skills grew, so did her confidence, and she had finally gathered enough of it to make her way to the town's graveyard.
Nothing but the moon and the stars illuminated the almost pitch dark city when she approached the ominous steel gates. Rushia had seen them from a distance there a few times before, but she had never been this close, especially at such late hours.
She exhaled, her breath rising in small white clouds, and easily climbed the stone wall which surrounded the graveyard. Despite the oppressive and somber main entrance which looked like it had been pulled out of a noble's mansion, the place itself was not protected, likely due to the inhabitant's natural fear of the dead.
A black cat entered her field of vision. One wouldn't be able to tell, especially in such a dimly lit place, but this cat was completely blind. It was also completely dead, or had been when Rushia found it a few weeks prior. It was now one of the many undead that often accompanied her whenever she went for a walk, and made sure she was as well fed as possible.
She crouched and rubbed its head a few times.
"There, there. Thank you for protecting me, but I'm fine." she whispered to the animal.
It wasn't uncommon to come across dead or diseased animals in the many alleyways of the town, especially in the poorer areas. The apprentice necromancer had seen them many times before, but had always quickly moved away, not able to do anything but offer a quick prayer for them.
However, things had changed. She could act now. Rushia didn't take long to realize that she was able to revive most of the semi-wild animals that lived in the slums with her newfound healing and necromantic powers. The only exception were those that had been dead for more than a few days. Those, she could only bring back as undead minions, something she avoided doing more than necessary. Sure, they protected her and brought her food whenever she showed the slightest sign of hunger, but they also lost most of their own will and started following her everywhere, and she was afraid of what would happen to the poor animals if they were spotted by others. As the one who revived them, she could understand their thoughts and emotions, and it truly made her happy when she felt that the cats, dogs and birds she had brought back to life felt a strong desire to defend her from harm. Still, she was aware of the risks. The necromancy tome was clear: most viewed the art as something intrinsically evil, and would not hesitate to hurt necromancers and their summons. She didn't want anything to happen to her new friends, and that included this black feline.
She stood up and the cat ran away, though she knew it would likely just hide somewhere close by. Rushia sighed and walked to the center of the cemetery. Stone graves, some recent, some so old the writing had faded away, were lined up on dirt ground in which no grass grew. There was no place in this city closer to the underworld than this.
After a deep breath to prepare herself, Rushia cast the spell, speaking words in an ancient language. For a moment, the graveyard became illuminated as if it was daytime, an impressive amount of magic flowing outwards of Rushia's body and into the scenery around her. And then…
Nothing changed.
Did it fail? She wondered. It was, after all, her first attempt. She was about to try again when a voice made her stop.
"Hey, did someone just open the door?"
Rushia looked around in panic, but there was no one there. The place was, quite literally, dead empty.
"No, I swear someone did. Hey! Is anyone there?" the voice asked. It sounded like an older woman, perhaps even in their third age.
A spirit?
The book did not provide details on how the spirits would manifest themselves, but she knew they had some physical form. The voice, however, seemed to be incorporeal.
Calm down… I need to focus, or this will be for nothing.
Rushia closed her eyes, remembering the pages she had studied so carefully from the mage's book. She felt the magic around her, pulsating with life and limitless possibilities. She imagined all the spirits that gathered there, the place of rest of hundreds. And then she became the magic itself, opening the entrance between the two worlds and letting out, even if only for a short time, the souls of the ones buried there. Rushia took their hands, pulling them to the land of the living.
When she opened her eyes again, the world had changed.
Not just one or two, but dozens of tiny white blobs were floating around the graves. Some were just idling alone, while others got together in groups, energetically talking between themselves. As she stared at them wide-eyed, Rushia quickly noticed they possessed tiny mouths, and a pair of large, simple black eyes.
Cute… She couldn't help but think. Any remaining fears she had were gone once the figure of the spirits were revealed. Something evil would surely never look this adorable.
"Ah, so it was you. You look awfully young for a necromancer, little miss." From behind her came the same voice she had initially heard after casting the spell.
A spirit boasting a friendly smile was floating not far from her. Her face was wrinkled, giving her somewhat more of a wise elder appearance compared to the others.
"Eh… I…" stumbled Rushia. "I'm sorry!" she bowed almost without thinking.
"Hmm? Sorry for what, dear?"
"Well… For using this spell that affects all of you without asking…" the girl looked down in guilt.
"Oh, don't worry about that! " the spirit cackled, its voice rough yet gentle. "It gets boring on the other side. I'm sure no one minds. Ain't that right?" she turned in the direction of the closest group of spirits.
"Of course!" One of them replied, approaching the pair. "If anything, we're grateful. We don't get many chances to talk with the people of the living world!"
"We didn't even believe Grandma here when she said someone was trying to get to us." added a second one with a mischievous smile.
"Bah! What did I tell you?" spat the older spirit who had been called Grandma before turning to Rushia. " You see dear, I'm the one that's been here the longest, so I noticed right away when someone from the living world was calling us. It's been a while since that's happened."
"A while? Does that mean it has happened before?" Rushia inquired.
"Sure has. Some old man used to come here all the time and talk to us. Quite a while since we last saw him though. He was the one to show us necromancers can be good people too. There were others before him, but they were always in a hurry and, frankly, very rude. Oh, but where are my manners? I haven't yet asked for your name. I would give you mine, but it's been so long since my death I have forgotten it. Nowadays these folks here just call me Grandma."
"I'm.. Rushia. Uruha Rushia." Spelling out her own name was odd. She couldn't remember the last time she had introduced herself to another person.
"Rushia! I see. And why has a little one like you taken up necromancy, eh?"
Rushia averted her eyes. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to reveal, and even though these spirits seemed to be exceptionally nice, she still couldn't help but feel a bit remorseful at her own actions.
"Ah, don't worry about it. Everyone has their own life circumstances, after all. Well, except for us, of course!" She exclaimed with a smile, causing a few of the spirits to break into laughs.
By then, a number of them noticed the commotion and got closer to Rushia, who had suddenly become the center of attention. One of the spirits, smaller than the others, hovered at her eye level, a curious look in its face.
So cute…
Almost unconsciously, Rushia extended her hand to the spirit. To her surprise, she found out she was actually able to touch it. She gently rubbed its white head, smiling to herself.
"Oh? Now that's new." Grandma muttered.
"Hey! Don't bother the lady, son."
Two new spirits appeared, admonishing the smaller one, who looked around as if undecided, before promptly jumping into Rushia's arms.
"Son… My apologies, miss. He was just six years old when we died, so he acts like this at times." revealed one of the spirits with an apologetic look on its face.
He must be this child's father…
Rushia smiled sadly as she cuddled the youngster spirit.
"Don't worry about it.'' She reassured the parents. "Go back to your dad and mom now, okay?" said Rushia calmly, facing the young one.
Its large eyes appeared hesitant at first, but soon he returned, to sighs of relief from the couple.
"I'm surprised you can touch us." admitted Grandma, her eyebrows raised. "It took the other necromancer a while before he could even talk to more than one at a time. You must be quite skilled!"
"Ah, not at all. Thank you." Rushia replied shyly.
"Well, judging by your abilities, we should be together for a while. Is there anything you want to ask us?" Grandma inquired, her face crinkling up in a smile.
"Something... I want to ask?"
"Yes! Usually, when we get summoned out here, whoever does it has some sort of question for us to answer."
In truth, Rushia had nothing of the sort. By now, she understood she was exceptionally skilled at necromancy, but she still hadn't expected this level of success on her first try. She had envisioned she might be able to summon a single spirit for a minute or two.
"Miss Rushia?" the old spirit called out to her, perhaps noticing her troubled expression.
She pulled on her emerald hair, trying to think of something.
What do people usually ask the dead about? The book mentioned they could be consulted with for advice or to confirm events they saw while living, but I don't need either of those…
Suddenly, she remembered something. One paragraph in her manual mentioned how, when summoning an intelligent undead, better results were obtained if they were treated nicely, and they reacted especially well to being asked about personal details, such as their name.
They're spirits, not summoned undead… But it might work out?
"Er… Well, first I would like to know the names of everyone here…" she said shyly.
The spirit by the name of Grandma opened her eyes in astonishment before breaking into a whopping laugh.
"Hah! Our names, is it? You sure are an odd one. Well, I can't promise everyone remembers theirs, but we can introduce ourselves. First, let's start with…"
A certain guard yawned as he made his rounds across the city. It was far too late for his liking, but the pay for daytime work had long since stopped being enough to cover his family's expenses. The rising taxes in the capital, a consequence of many wars having run the royal family's treasury dry, had also affected daily life here, and with their savings dangerously low and two kids to feed, he and his wife had had to work harder than ever before. In the end, he had to resort to taking the much-hated nighttime rounds at his job in the city guard.
"It's too damn cold." He protested to no one. "And everyone has already gone to sleep anyway. Why do I have to do this..."
Crime in hours of darkness had increased as an ever-growing number of people became desperate, which led the officials in charge of the city to assign new night shifts to its guards, with the promise of better pay to those who took them. Although in theory a good idea, the evildoers had almost immediately learned of this new schedule, and not two weeks had passed before they knew exactly where and when the soldiers were at any time, rendering the efforts of his superiors nearly useless and tiring the overworked guards even further. Still, futile as it might be, it was an easy way to obtain extra money, which he desperately needed.
"Ugh. Almost there…"
He was supposed to go up to the local graveyard before coming back to his post and clocking out. If he was being honest, he would have much preferred to hide in a tavern and let the time pass by with a drink in hand, but even the least modest inns were closed by now, leaving him no choice but to walk in order to not let the whistling cold wind freeze him through his light armor.
The graveyard finally came into view. The place at night gave him the creeps, so he always turned back as soon as he saw it. However, there was no way he could have done that after noticing a figure standing there.
Someone is out this late?
The guard raised an eyebrow. The gates should have been closed, which meant that whoever was in there was illegally trespassing. Scratching his head, he slowly got closer, taking care to not make too much noise.
If it's just a drunkard I'll leave him alone. I just want to go home already.
He soon remarked the figure was actually quite small, perhaps even the size of a child.
Oh hell. Did someone abandon their kid here?
An unfortunately common practice stemmed from the difficulties many families were facing, some parents had been leaving their children alone in the city before running away somewhere. He hadn't dealt with any himself, but some of his colleagues had stumbled upon rejected kids all over town.
This is getting to be quite the pain. I guess I'll have to take them to the church.
As he approached the intruder, he realized that the apparent child was actually a young girl, likely in her teens. Her hair was emerald green, in contrast with her scarlet eyes.
Her appearance was not unusual, or so the guard would have thought if he had seen her during the day. What was unusual was the fact he could see her at all at night. He had not noticed from afar, but the girl was, quite literally, glowing. A faint glow emanated from her body, casting enough light for him to make out her features. He quickly hid behind one of the trees next to the graveyard's wall, sneaking peeks at her.
"Oh… I would like to if possible, but isn't that quite rude? I'm really not sure how much longer until I have to go, too..."
Her voice reached his ears.
Who the hell is she talking to? He thought. And what is up with that glow? Is she a magician or something?
If she truly was one, or even just an apprentice, then he would need to be careful. A rampaging sorcerer was quite dangerous to deal with.
Still, she really just looks like a little girl. She's probably just practicing in secret or something. Is there even a point in bothering myself with this? The man pondered to himself.
At least I'll have an interesting story to tell tomorrow. Not that anyone will believe it, heh. A girl casting magic in a graveyard… Yeah right. They'll just think I was dreaming. I guess I'll just go.
As the guard was prepared to leave though, he suddenly froze up. He was tired and his head felt heavy with drowsiness, but something didn't feel quite right.
"Do you mean that? Well, if you all say so… I'll try! Just for a bit, though. I'm starting to get slightly tired."
The girl spoke to nothingness again. The guard rubbed his head. Little girl. Magic. Graveyard. Glowing. The feeling of missing something obvious nagged at him like an insistent kid.
"All right, here I go!"
What? Why does she keep talking to herself? He thought, slightly irritated at the whole situation.
Out of nowhere, the earth shook, interrupting his thoughts and making him hit his head against the tree trunk.
Ow! An earthquake now?! The guard was seriously starting to think he should have just stayed home. The extra money wasn't worth a concussion.
Thankfully, the trepidation soon stopped, and he let out a sigh of relief.
He took one look at the girl, making sure she was okay, only to freeze on the spot.
There was another person next to the girl. A tall, lanky, white figure.
Even at a distance, he could tell it was not human.
Suddenly, it hit him. The piece of the puzzle he was missing. The reason why a sorcerer would be in a graveyard, practicing magic.
She's a necromancer.
During training, it had been constantly drilled into them how dangerous necromancers were. They weren't common, but everytime one was left unchecked, it always led to a great disaster, and so they should be eliminated as quickly as possible, lest they summon an army to protect themselves.
Before this guard's groggy mind could think, his body moved, and he jumped the short wall that separated him from the girl and her summon, sword unsheathed.
The girl's scream echoed through the night.