"Rise," a voice said, and before it rose a body.
It was almost perfect, with the few imperfections a body had when it was raised.
The body was that of a young girl, human; inexperienced, innocent.
The body died only a few days before, and the cold conditions of winter had kept it as it was when it died due to a stab wound in its stomach.
"Hi," the voice said again, in a very friendly tone.
The risen body looked up, though its vision was blurry, so it was no use trying to identify who was speaking.
It couldn't yet speak so close to its resurrection. Answering wasn't an option.
"You may be wondering where you are, or who you are, or even why you are. Well, I don't usually do this kind of thing. Necromancy is, you know..." the speaker was strangely shy about the subject, "illegal."
There was a pause.
"I'm Vellichor, though you may call me Vell, as I am supposed to be your master now, as I have resurrected you."
The risen corpse's vision seemed to finally adjust, and could see a young man, with a dark robe, a long staff, and ruffled white hair sitting on a tree stump and watching over it.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Can you tell me your name?" Vell asked.
But the corpse didn't answer.
"...no? Damn, are you brain-damaged? I just infused you with a bit of life and mana, I thought that would be enough."
Vell lifted his staff and twirled it around a bit while it was lighting up the scenery in a blue hue, but was stopped as the corpse lifted a hand to stop him.
It just pointed at its mouth, singling to the Necromaner that no, it couldn't speak yet.
"Ah, that's easily fixable. Allow me."
He tapped his staff to its mouth and shot energy into it.
The corpse felt it and could feel its mouth and tongue again, as it couldn't feel much of anything before.
Opening and closing its mouth again, it tested its words.
"Aaaaaahh, Eeeeeeeeee, Ooohhhhhhhh," it made a few sounds. I had to admit that it was a strange feeling talking and pushing the air through its lungs if one is not accustomed to the practice.
"I do not know what to say to you, Necromancer. I don't know who I am, who I was, or even that I have died. I have heard of magic practitioners and also have heard that they are mischievous. How do I not know that you are playing a trick on me?"
"How about the sword that was left in your stomach? I could pull it out and then give it to you." Vell said.
As the corpse looked down, it saw the sword Vell was talking about, and true enough, the corpse accepted the situation as it was.
The time it had spent dead must have affected its brain or sensibilities because it didn't find the situation all that upsetting.
"What now, then, master?" The corpse spoke as it sat down before Vell.
"I don't know, actually. I just found it sad that someone as young as you died and wanted to see what you were about; to fulfill any last requests, to listen to your story; but if you have nothing to say, I guess I should let you rest again-"
"No!" The corpse yelled out while it shot up. It felt a dreadful fear at the idea of being dead again. "Anything but the grave, please."
"If you wish, if you wish. Travel with me then, for I have a long way to go. But every companion of mine must have a name, and if you do not remember yours, then I shall name thee. Thine name shall be Sonder, Servant of the Dread Mage."