Rowana stared at the wizard in front of her door. She was unsure if he was even human — especially after his sudden display of power. At first, she thought he was a lich, seeing as how her summoned wraiths were all but deferent in his presence.
The huge snail behind him was most likely an animated corpse, judging by its pallid color. Most likely a fresh kill, seeing that it showed no signs of rotting.
The feeling of death and dread that surrounded the scythe-carrying wizard constricted the soul and bent the will. It was unlike anything she had ever encountered. He wasn’t even angry — he was just standing there smiling with his skull mask, dark robes, and scythe.
“Are you sure you’re not a necromancer?”
“Pretty sure.”
The strange wizard paused, lifting his skull mask to reveal a human face. He was young — too young to bear such power.
The overwhelming tide of malevolence ebbed, but Rowana could still feel the pressure on her soul. Was he a dark god? No— most likely a servant. The gods never constrained themselves to the affairs of mortals — but their intermediaries were known to walk the earth.
The young necromancer clutched her ashen staff in horror, her lithe body starting to shake. Drawing the attention of the dark ones could easily spell death, a lifetime of servitude, or worse.
“People call me Scourge, or the Scourge when referring to me,” the wizard in front of her explained. “I’m here on behalf of Duke Cedric and the people of Shallowpoint. Something about a curse.”
He looked at her like she was of no importance, his eyes straying to the room behind her as if searching for something. They were the eyes of a predator — someone who could take a life without hesitation or regret.
“I am Rowana, Sir Scourge,” she bowed, relieved that she was mistaken. Still, respect was necessary. The man was sent by the duke — more so, her life was hanging on his judgment.
“I will not raise a hand against you if you choose to enter.”
She could not invite him in — not with that power. Her tower was her only chance of survival. The mana within was hers to access and command, making her five times more formidable and limiting her enemies to the mana they carried within themselves. Even so, she did not like her odds of surviving a fight with the strange wizard.
The Scourge shrugged and walked through the door, crossing the threshold without a care. Rowana waited with bated breath for a reaction — any reaction — so that she could gauge the ability of her uninvited guest.
There was nothing.
The first of her wards would make warriors writhe in pain. The second drained the mana from all but the most powerful wizards. The third disrupted the mind’s connection with the body, making it harder to move. The fourth was freezing ice. The fifth — hellfire. The sixth — divine radiance.
Her last ward would drain the life of whoever passed. It was the only ward she expected not to work.
“We should talk,” the Scourge suggested as he took a seat behind her desk. “I saw no traces of curses in the village. There was a small nuisance, but it was hardly threatening. You said something about people dying if you were the one cursing them?”
The room turned cold as he sat down. Not a chilling cold — but a surprisingly pleasant one.
Rowana started to speak, the words getting caught in her mouth. She knew her life was hanging in the balance. Rather than politeness, the wizard’s calm demeanor was a mark of callous indifference to her existence. She felt like an insect under his smiling gaze — and he did say he was more of an exterminator.
“Choose your words, Rowana — your life hangs on a balance,” he warned. “In the capital, the mere practice of unsanctioned necromancy could earn you a trip to the gallows. I’m already being lenient here.”
His words startled her. Was he reading her mind? Were her secrets out in the open?
“I’m not reading your mind. No— I’m really not. It’s obvious in your face. I’m reading your face,” the Scourge explained. “I have a snail for a companion. If I can read a snail, I can certainly read a human.”
Rowana bit her lips. There was no hiding from the wizard. Even now, he was saying he could discern lies without resorting to magic. Hopefully, he would know she was speaking the truth.
“I never cursed Shallowpoint — or the villagers,” she professed her innocence, “but I didn’t deny it either.”
Her words were met with silence. The wizard seemed more interested in her desk and the notes that it held. He gestured for her to continue, even as he was prying open one of the drawers.
“There was an incident—“
“Yes, I heard there was a goat involved,” the Scourge cut her off.
“A lamb, actually,” she corrected. “One of the town’s hunters got too close to my tower while chasing a lamb. Any closer and my wraiths would have drained him dry.”
“So you threatened him with a curse for killing the land and crossing to your territory?”
Stolen novel; please report.
“Eh, the lamb was fine,” Rowana stammered. “It went about its way after I gave the hunter a warning.”
“That’s quite interesting. Are you sure it wasn’t a goat?”
“I would know a goat from a lamb,” she asserted. “That one was a lamb.”
“Just checking,” the Scourge scribbled on a notebook that seemed to have magically appeared. “Now that the curse thing has been settled, we’re moving on to a different topic — namely, why you chose to practice necromancy of all things.”
Rowana paused. She avoided one pitfall only to fall into a deeper one. Necromancy was forbidden outside the bounds of the Guildhall Arcana — even then, it was strictly regulated. A rogue practitioner like her would be hunted down and tried for practicing the dark arts.
“It’s the only magic I know,” she explained. “When my father died, I found a book while searching through his things.”
She never thought her father was anything more than a simple fisherman. Finding the book was a revelation, as well as a way to hold on to her father’s memories.
“This book,” she hesitated before offering the book she pulled out from her robes to the Scourge.
“This is quite advanced,” he remarked as he rifled through its pages. “It mostly deals with summoning apparitions — but limited to the confines of an anchor. I assume it’s your tower.”
“It is,” she answered, taking back the book that the wizard returned without an afterthought. “The wights are instructed not to kill anyone — and they’re more like apparitions than actual wights.”
“I somehow doubt that,” the Scourge frowned. “The apparitions outside hunger for the living — they even wanted a taste of my Shelby.”
“Your snail is alive?!”
“Very much so.”
“Oh no… oh no….” Rowana couldn’t think properly. She could guide her undead guardians — but not control them. Without her presence, they would have killed the hunter. Now, the Scourge’s snail was left outside to fend for itself!
“We need to get to your snail!” she rose off from her seat, ready to head to the door — but the Scourge grabbed her wrist, preventing her from moving away.
“Sit down,” he urged. There was a tinge of sadness on his face. “What’s done is done.”
She obliged, returning to her seat and wondering what was more important than seeing to the safety of one’s companion.
The Scourge grabbed one of the parchments she used in constructing her wards, placing it in front of her.
“Your wards are fine,” he started. “But they can be better.”
She stared at him dumbfounded. He was making changes in front of her, drawing matrices while explaining their functions — completely reworking her wards and increasing their lethality.
“Finally, that last ward was a joke,” ‘the Scourge frowned while he drew matrices on a fresh sheet of paper, seemingly growing frustrated. “Forget that. I’ll just show you.”
He went to the door and accessed her wards with a touch. It wasn’t an impossible feat — but it was difficult. Her wards encompassed the whole tower, and its heart was situated higher up. He had to extend his mana and magical senses three stories.
“Your ward allowed the most dangerous creatures you can imagine inside,” he lectured. “Creatures that would enter your body and eat you from within. They target everyone, but those who deal with the dead can be the most vulnerable to them.”
She shuddered at his words. She could hear the sincerity in his voice —how it showed the utmost contempt for the creatures and a genuine concern for her safety.
“Now for the creatures within your tower,” the Scourge smiled
“They’re already inside my tower?”
“They’re already inside you.”
There was a calm resignation in his voice, as if dealing with the creatures was inevitable. She imagined her insides being eaten by demonic creatures — or something drawn by necrotic power.
“Is there nothing I can do?”
“I can fix it, if you let me,” he answered. “Do you have a familiar or pets within the tower?”
“No,” the question baffled her. Did the horrible creatures take the form of animals?
“Good.”
Rowana knew practicing necromancy would lead to her death — just not so soon. She felt the wave of death emanating from the wizard and knew she was done for.
The robes, the skull, the scythe — death itself came for her. Everything else was a pretense — a sick game to torture her before her demise. She closed her eyes and accepted the inevitable.
“There — all done.”
She opened her eyes, not believing she was still alive.
“Drink some milk, eat some cheese — you should be fine by tomorrow.” the Scourge assured her. “Your new wards should prevent those foul creatures from crossing — even if you unknowingly bring them back with you.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, my services aren’t exactly free.” he smiled. “I usually charge 50 gold for a cleansing, and maybe 200 gold for the changes to your ward — that’s cheap, mind you. Let’s see, I’ll just take this gem as payment, and maybe this other one.”
Rowan blinked her eyes, wondering when the scheming merchant replaced the horrifying aspect of Death.
“And you should stop with the wraiths,” the Scourge advised. “You can’t control them, and sooner or later they could cause an incident with the villagers or some unknowing passerby.”
“I will keep that in mind,” she said, seriously rethinking her use of wraiths. “Wait — your snail!”
She rushed towards the door expecting to see her wraiths draining the life of the gargantuan snail — instead, she saw the snail casually inspecting a flowerbed.
“Alas!” the Scourge spoke from behind her. “Your wraiths did not survive.”
***
Jeremy bade farewell to Rowana. She was naive and reckless — but not exactly evil. However, if she chooses to continue practicing necromancy, then her fate was out of his hands.
He learned a lot from his visit — like how his life ward interacted with the undead, as well as how some wizards put up their wards. Of course, the small detail about the lamb was the most important piece of information — especially since there were none of them in the area.
Sheep were common, but none of the villagers brought any with them. Wild sheep were rare — and a lamb so far from its flock would not survive a trek through the forest.
There was something going on there — especially in the way the villagers and the necromancer accepted the presence of the lamb without question.
Several entities could have managed the deception — but the culprit was likely a dream fiend — or a dream eater, as most folks would call it. The entity fed on dreams, the more forlorn or horrifying the better. It could warp the perception of others — leading the hunter into the wraiths with a projection of a sheep. It could then feed on the hunter’s nightmares, a more delectable meal than the usual dreams of a simple villager.
Jeremy smiled. His work was done. The village wasn’t cursed — only infested by a nuisance. Tomorrow, he would have to make a show of lifting the curse to convince the village that they were safe. Of course, it would be mostly theatrics — but he knew a thing or two about creating a spectacle.