Halga pressed her palm against the rough bark of the ancient oak, its ridges biting into her skin. She closed her eyes, and the world around her softened, fading into silence. Her breathing slowed, steady and deep, as she focused on the tree's essence, the hum of life running through its ancient veins. It wasn't like the pulse of a living creature, not quick and rhythmic, but slow, deliberate, like the creak of old wood under pressure.
Her brow furrowed as she delved deeper, sensing the ebb and flow of its vitality. It felt faint, like the last embers of a dwindling fire. The tree was old, its strength waning. Decades, perhaps, remained before it crumbled into the earth it once grew from. That thought tightened her chest, but she pushed it aside. This was the way of things – life to death, and death to something new. Jason had taught her that.
She exhaled, a puff of mist in the cold air, and extended her will toward the life coursing through the oak. It resisted at first, slippery and elusive, like trying to hold water in her bare hands. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her concentration sharpening. Her fingers twitched against the bark, digging deeper as if to anchor her grip on the invisible energy writhing just out of reach.
The life force quivered under her attention, hesitant, unwilling. She clenched her jaw, narrowing her focus until the rest of the world seemed to vanish. Her hand trembled, her fingertips tingling with the effort, and finally, she felt it—solid and firm in her grasp. Her breathing hitched as she steadied herself, her other hand bracing against the trunk.
"Hold," she muttered under her breath, her voice barely a whisper.
The energy pulsed, slick and unyielding, but she tightened her mental grip, refusing to let it slip away. Sweat beaded on her brow despite the cool air, and her legs shifted slightly to maintain her balance. Slowly, steadily, she pulled. It wasn't a sharp yank but a deliberate, relentless tug, like drawing a heavy bucket from a deep well.
The air around her shifted, a faint whisper of something unseen curling around her fingers. The bark under her hand grew colder, its vitality leaching away as the energy pooled into her grasp. When she finally opened her eyes, her breath hitched.
A swirling, blue-green haze clung to her hand, moving like liquid fire. It danced and shifted, faint sparks of light flashing within its depths. The oak, once towering and proud, now stood silent and still, its bark graying, its branches drooping lifelessly. Leaves began to flutter down like dying embers from a spent flame.
Halga staggered back a step, the glowing haze still clinging to her hand. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. She raised her arm, staring at the light, her fingers curling slightly as if to test its weight. The energy felt warm, almost alive, yet its presence was alien, unfamiliar. She tilted her head, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.
The realization struck her slowly. She'd done it. The tree's life was now hers to command. A flicker of something – pride, awe, or perhaps fear – flashed across her face. Her fingers closed around the haze, and it dissipated, sinking into her palm like water into soil.
Her gaze returned to the oak, now barren and lifeless. Its silhouette stood stark against the gray sky, a monument to what she had just done. Her shoulders sagged, the tension draining from her body.
"I did it," she said, her voice hoarse. Her hand fell to her side, fingers flexing as if to assure herself it was real.
The world around her seemed heavier now, the quiet pressing in. She turned her palm upward, staring at it as though it held all the answers and none at all.
Halga turned to the pile of bleached deer bones resting in a heap beside her, their brittle edges catching the pale light. They looked fragile, like they might crumble if she so much as brushed them. She frowned, flexing her fingers as though preparing them for some arduous task.
Several meters away, Jason Lee, the self-proclaimed Boner King and her infuriatingly smug teacher, sat comfortably on a tree stump. He gave her a wide grin and a thumb's up, the gesture as foreign to her as his endless, nonsensical titles.
"Go on," he said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "Show those bones who's boss."
Halga rolled her eyes but mirrored his thumbs-up with one of her own. It felt awkward, but she figured it was better than trying to match his grin.
"I was getting to it," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Her knees bent as she crouched beside the bones, the chill of the earth seeping through her boots. She hovered her hand above the pile, her palm steady but her fingers twitching ever so slightly. Closing her eyes, she focused, blocking out Jason's persistent smirk and the quiet rustle of the wind in the trees.
Drawing life from a living thing was one thing – it had a pulse, a rhythm, something tangible to grasp. This, however, was different. The bones were empty, void of the life they once carried. It felt like reaching into a dry well and expecting water to flow. She gritted her teeth, her brows pulling together.
Her hand hovered lower, almost brushing the jagged edge of a rib bone. She imagined her will as threads of light, delicate but strong, weaving through the empty spaces of the skeleton. She breathed in deeply, steadying the tremor in her fingers. The air around her seemed to shift, heavier, expectant.
"Don't overthink it," Jason called out, leaning back on the stump as though they were practicing archery and not tampering with the laws of nature. "Just let the necrotic energy flow. It's like writing with a quill – firm but not too forceful. And, you know, don't accidentally blow it up. That'd be bad."
"Really helpful, thanks," she muttered under her breath; the quill analogy failed, because she didn't know how to write, but she adjusted her focus nonetheless.
She felt it then, faint and cold, like frost brushing against her fingertips. It wasn't the vibrant energy of life she'd pulled from the oak earlier. This was quieter, dormant, a distant echo of what had once been. It resisted her call at first, slipping through her grasp like a whisper. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she tried again, this time coaxing rather than commanding.
Her hand trembled slightly, and a faint greenish glow began to seep from her fingertips, coiling downward in tendrils. The bones twitched. A femur shifted, rolling an inch to the left. Halga's eyes snapped open, widening as the glow spread, wrapping around the bones like ivy.
"That's it!" Jason cheered, clapping his hands. "Keep going! You've got this."
Halga exhaled sharply, focusing harder. The skull tilted upward, its empty sockets staring at her as if in silent accusation. The rib cage rose next, rattling like wind-chimes caught in a storm. The limbs followed, the bones snapping into place with eerie precision. Bit by bit, the skeleton reassembled itself, standing unsteadily on spindly legs.
She leaned back on her heels, her breath coming in quick bursts. The green light pulsed faintly within the deer's chest, holding the fragile structure together.
Jason hopped off his stump and sauntered over, hands on his hips as he surveyed her work.
"Not bad," he said, tilting his head like a jeweler appraising a flawed gem. "A little wobbly, but hey, it's standing. That's something."
The skeletal deer took a tentative step forward, one bony hoof scraping against the dirt. It wobbled, then steadied itself, its head turning toward Halga. She met its empty gaze, her chest tightening.
"Does it... obey me?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
Jason shrugged. "Only if you tell it to. Go on, give it a command."
Halga hesitated. She licked her lips and took a deep breath.
"Walk," she said, her voice firm but uncertain.
The deer tilted its head, almost as if considering her words, then took another step. And another. Its movements were jerky, unnatural, but it obeyed.
A grin spread across her face, tentative at first, then widening into something triumphant.
Jason clapped her on the shoulder, nearly knocking her forward. "Look at that! You're a regular necromancer now. Just wait until you can reanimate something bigger. Dragons, maybe."
Her grin faltered. "Let's... stick to deer for now."
Jason waved a hand dismissively. "Baby steps, sure. But hey, not bad for a first attempt."
Halga watched the skeletal deer continue its awkward shuffle, a strange mix of pride and unease bubbling in her chest. She straightened, brushing the dirt from her knees.
"It's harder than you make it look," she said, glancing at him.
Jason smirked. "Well, yeah. I'm me."
She snorted, shaking her head, the corner of her mouth tugging upward despite herself. Jason's praise had a way of sticking, like honey coating the edges of her thoughts. For the first time, a flicker of confidence warmed her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she was getting the hang of this.
Halga glanced at the skeletal deer. It stood awkwardly on its bony legs, head tilted slightly to one side as if waiting for her next command. The faint green light in its ribcage pulsed in a steady rhythm, almost like a heartbeat. A heartbeat she had given it. She reached out a tentative hand toward its skull, her fingers brushing against the smooth, cold bone. The deer didn't flinch or retreat. It simply stared back at her with empty sockets, loyal in its eerie stillness.
Jason leaned on his staff nearby, watching with an amused glint in his eyes.
"Not bad," he said, his voice breaking the quiet. "A bit wobbly, sure, but hey, it's standing."
"Thanks, teacher," she said, her tone laced with mock reverence.
He grinned, twirling his staff like a lazy juggler. "Careful, or I'll start charging tuition."
Halga smirked, shaking her head, but her fingers lingered on the deer's skull. It was strange, the mixture of pride and unease that coiled in her gut. Sure, reanimating a pile of bones wasn't anywhere near what Jason could do, but it was something. A start. Now, like her closest friend and unlikely mentor, she had her own undead servant – though calling it a servant might have been a stretch. The deer's movements were jerky, almost hesitant, like a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time. She couldn't help but wonder how much farther she could push this.
Jason straightened, clapping his hands together. "Well, congratulations on your first foray into necromancy, Lady Halga. Welcome to the exclusive club of people who make normal folks very uncomfortable."
"Very funny," she said, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
Unlike Jason, however, she wasn't a limitless wellspring of magic. Every spell she cast came at a cost. Her gaze drifted back to the oak tree, now lifeless and brittle, its bark darkened, its branches drooping as if in silent mourning. She clenched her fists briefly, the residual warmth of the oak's stolen life still pulsing faintly within her. It wasn't much, just enough to fuel a few more minor spells. But if she wanted more – if she wanted an army of her own, like Jason's legions of skeletal interns – she'd have to take more. Always more.
Jason followed her gaze, his grin softening into something almost sympathetic. "Tree guilt, huh?"
Halga huffed, crossing her arms. "You don't have to pay for your magic, Jason. It's easy for you."
He nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment. "True. But that's why I have to teach you. Balance, right? You've got limits. I don't. That means you're gonna be smarter about this stuff than I am."
His words caught her off guard. She blinked, glancing at him sideways, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But Jason was already spinning his staff again, looking at the skeletal deer like it was a particularly amusing work of art.
She sighed, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension that had built there. The embers of the oak tree's life flickered within her, urging her to use them. The sensation was strange, a mixture of energy and longing, like a fire begging for kindling. She resisted the urge to draw on it just yet.
"We should probably head back, yeah?" Jason said, his grin returning as he slung his staff over his shoulder.
Halga nodded, glancing at the skeletal deer.
"What about this one?" she asked, gesturing toward the reanimated creature. It tilted its head again, the faint green light in its chest dimming slightly, as if waiting for its purpose.
Jason waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, take it with you. Nothing says 'I'm learning necromancy' like bringing home a bone deer. Very fashionable."
She smirked. "It's not exactly a pet, Jason."
"Sure it is. Just don't feed it anything, and it'll be the easiest pet you've ever had."
AN: Chapter 52 is out on (Pat)reon!
