Zayn woke to a feeling of emptiness.
He crawled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen to realize there was only old stew. His stomach growled as he stared at it. It smelled strange, and he was confident that it was no longer good to use. So he pitched it out and then went to check on his mother.
Her breathing was labored and she was covered in sweat. He changed the wet cloth and went to refill the bucket with fresh well water.
Then he moved his brother’s body to the area in the center of the village.
The small line of corpses was growing steadily longer, and he realized he would need a shovel if he was going to dig a grave for all of them. He looked up the stretch of land to the hill. The light of dawn hadn’t yet shown up, and the stars spun playfully overhead.
The thick range of colors reminded him of the time he had spent with the people of the village.
They had all gathered together and eaten, laughed, and drank under the stars. He loved that moment, seeing everyone together had been amazing.
He jerked as he realized he had been drifting off to sleep. He looked around and for a moment he could have sworn he saw the ghosts of the people around him laughing and celebrating.
All they do is talk. Pathetic humans.
“Why are you bothering me!” He shouted into the dark, “Why is everyone dying?”
There was no response but the laughter of the wind, whistling through the buildings. The feeling of emptiness disappeared as he remembered the anger. The anger he had felt at what had happened. He remembered his mother standing over a pot, cooking something for no reason. While his siblings were sick and dying. His father, a bastion of the community, unable to help him understand how to deal with Lyla’s child. Lyla for having a child.
The wind was right, and everyone loved to talk, but none of them said anything. They were pathetic.
He slumped to the ground a painful hole in his heart.
“Why am I afraid to lose them?”
Pathetic Humans. The wind whispered back.
It was right. He was pathetic. He had wished this into existence. He had been hurt and angry, and a part of him was happy to see them suffer. That made him feel even worse.
The moment of emotions faded as the emptiness returned. It was easier to feel nothing.
He jerked, looking around as he realized that he had drifted off again.
He stared at the hill, realizing that he had to climb up the hill to get the shovel. It was difficult to stand up, but he was eventually able to find the strength to stand up.
“Pathetic Humans.”
He began the long walk. It felt like he was climbing a mountain. The oppressive walk stretched out longer and longer as he neared the summit.
He reached for the shovel, picked it up, and began to work his way back to the town. How long did he normally take to walk this distance? How long had he spent already?
It felt like ages.
He looked at the bodies and estimated how big of a hole he would need.
He dug and dug.
Deeper and deeper.
He would have liked to have been so deep that he couldn’t escape from the grasp of the pit, but he was barely to his knees in the deepest part. He sighed, dropped the shovel, and then moved around the different houses.
There were more bodies, and he was clearly the only person who wasn’t sick yet.
He began to drag them from their homes.
“Pathetic Humans.”
The number of bodies grew enough that he began to wrap them around the growing pit.
A circle of death.
More and more bodies for the pit.
And the pit was growing deeper and deeper.
He gathered stones to mark the grave and began scribbling on them. He had to make sure everyone had their mark. He placed the stones down around the pit.
He looked at the hill and could see the sun slowly rising in the distance. It’s light washing away the stars.
Then he went back to digging. The pit grew deeper and deeper, slowly getting to where it could almost swallow him. His stomach hurt.
The pain of hunger shot through him, forcing Zayn to face reality.
He was dying.
He hadn’t coughed or anything yet, but hunger would end him soon enough. He was having trouble remembering when he had last eaten a real meal. The fruit had always been a rarity and the thought of succulent purple fruit with its creamy contents left him moaning for a bite. That plant that grew the fruit only produced them in one season, and that was a long way away.
His hunger grew sharp and insistent.
Then he saw the bodies of the dead. He looked at them and wondered how they would taste. He would have puked if he had anything in his stomach, but he hadn’t drunk enough in the last several days. So he ended up heaving and retching almost nothing.
The foul taste stung his nose and mouth, driving him from the pit and to the well. He washed off his nose and rinsed his mouth as best as he could, but the putrid odor refused to wash away. When he was done he saw the bodies of his community. People he had known his entire life and seen as friends, and he was hungry.
He closed his eyes and looked away in shame.
Pathetic Humans. The wind laughed at him.
He went to check on those who weren’t dead yet. No food smelled safe to eat anywhere and there was nothing but a wet cloth to help them. It felt so pointless.
“Son…” His mother gasped as he walked into her room.
It had been days since he had heard someone talking. It felt strange.
“Mother, you should be resting,” he changed out the towel he had been using. He didn’t think that it was helping in any way, but he did it without really even thinking.
“Sur..” She struggled to speak, “Survive.”
He watched her in shock, unable to respond. Her mouth moved, struggling to say something, but nothing escaped her lips.
She spent a few moments trying to say whatever it was, but all she was able to do was cough.
Zayn, unable to respond, wandered out to the field of death. Hunger gnawing at him. She had asked him to survive. All he could think about was the hunger, it was consuming him.
He made a choice. He cut into the flesh of those he had loved, and he would survive.
That one word held more meaning than all of the nonsense everyone had talked about. Nothing mattered if he died. If he died here, the memories of everyone would vanish forever. He looked at the meat long and hard. Then he went to the kitchen.
He cooked and ate. It wasn’t much, but it was a lot more than he had eaten in days.
He took some broth to his mom and she slurped it down. For a moment, she looked a little better; and the pain and uncertainty vanished. He gathered several more bowls worth and took them around to the different people in the town.
It wasn’t much, but it was obviously better than letting the sick starve. So Zayn spent a while going from house to house checking on the different people and giving those who would accept the broth some food.
He found three more bodies and after he had wandered around providing food, he dragged them out to the pit. He looked into the hole he had been making. It wouldn’t be enough for all the bodies that he had put around it, so he planned to get back to digging the pit.
It was a little easier with food in his stomach, but he ate too much and ended up vomiting in the pit. He stirred the mess into the dirt to cover up the scent and kept up the digging. He got hungry again and prepared another broth. It wasn’t much, but he knew that the soup was helping people.
He fed himself and everyone some of the broth and went to bed.
The next day no one died, and for a moment he wondered if he could save the rest.
He spent the day feeding and digging and went home and discovered his mother with a red blossom growing from her mouth. It formed a delicate flower spattered on the hard surface of the bed.
He did his best to clean it up and then went to bed.
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It took three more days for everyone else to die. He lined them all up and could feel the pit calling for him to feed it. He felt the stones needed to be updated, and he spent time adding the names of everyone else who had fallen to the stones. Zayn couldn’t even tell that the scribbles were all wrong, as he put the stones back into place.
It is ready.
Zayn jerked and looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.
“What is ready?” He shouted into the silence.
There was no answer, and Zarn stood there looking like a fool. He looked into the pit and could feel it calling for the bodies.
It consumed everybody he fed it. As the bodies fell in, they vanished into the darkness, devouring almost everyone he had ever known. There were only a handful of people still alive in the village, and none of them were doing well. The few people he knew who weren't affected by this didn’t even live here. Zayn only had a vague recollection of their faces and he didn’t even know their names.
A faint memory of his grandparents wafted through his mind, as he dragged the bodies into the pit. He watched them, one after the other, devoured by the all-encompassing hunger of the pit.
He would have cried if he had any tears to cry, but his body just couldn’t do it anymore. Everything was gone. After he grew tired, he gathered some food and went to bed.
He woke to find his mother was dead. She had coughed out her lungs, leaving a twisted and demented shape protruding from her mouth. He moved her to the pit. She was the last.
He stood over the pit and he could hear it calling for him to feed it. It wanted more. The darkness in it presented an inescapable barrier.
He looked down at the lump of flesh that had been his mother and then back to the pit. Its darkness invited him to join the dead.
“I’m coming.” he muttered to the pit, “Soon I will be there.”
Survive.
A single word gasped from dying lips with barely a breath.
He looked at her body. He was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. He had a long journey in any direction he went and almost no water for the journey.
“I need water.” He muttered to himself.
The wind howled past him.
He should have treated Lyla better. He should have asked her about what happened. About how she felt. Instead, he had just wished horrible things on everyone when he learned about the baby. He was cursed and diseased. It was the only answer. It hadn’t killed him, because it was created from his anger. It had acted out his will.
“I have no one left.”
Pathetic Humans. All they do is talk.
“Shut up!” He screamed into the wind, hoping it would stop its mockery of his pain. He was alone. Completely alone. He had no one to talk to. No one to share his hopes and fears with. All that was left of his family were the stars passing overhead and pleasant dreams.
Not that he expected to have any of those.
Feed her to the pit.
He looked at his mother's body and then at the pit.
“One last body for you to eat. You damned curse. I hope you are satisfied.”
He threw her into the pit.
He stared into the darkness. He knew that it wanted him.
Pathetic Humans.
All they do is talk.
Powerless.
You are powerless to do anything.
He started to walk into the hole, and for a moment he saw his mom. A faint specter floated before him, hands on his cheeks, whispering to him. A precious word.
A single idea.
Survive.
Pathetic Humans.
“Shut up!” He wanted to scream it, but it sounded more like a gasp. His body was wracked with a coughing fit.
He stared at his hands, checking to see if there was blood. Had he been coughing before this moment? He couldn’t remember. Regardless, he would soon be joining the others.
It was almost over.
He was infected.
Survive. A different, sweeter voice whispered to him, struggling to breathe.
He dropped to his knees and cried with dry tears.
Survive. The sweet voice whispered again, and he looked up expecting to see his mother. All he saw was a book.
It was transparent and glowed with a soft green color. Thin tendrils of mist drifted from it, reminding Zayn of the ghost he had just seen. He had never heard any stories about ghostly books. All he knew was that he couldn’t read very well.
His father and mother had taught him some of the basics, but it was barely enough to be able to read a ledger or receipt from the convoy.
Zayn just laughed. It was so ridiculous. What good would a book be for him?
It drifted closer and he felt the word whisper to him. The soft sweet voice seemed to come from the book. For a second he stared at it bewildered. It had been where he saw the specter of his mother.
“Mother?” He reached out a hand and grabbed the book.
He expected his fingers to slip through it and for it to vanish like the mirages he had learned about from the adults. Playful spirits would lead unwary travelers to their deaths in the deep deserts like the wasteland.
The cover, while ghostly, looked like a thick leather cover with no letters or symbols.
He was surprised at how easily it opened under his touch, and the first page was covered in strange symbols he had never seen before.
Despite that, he was able to easily read it
> The Eternal Balance
The title was strangely easy to understand, and Zayn spent a moment staring at how easily he was able to grasp its meaning. He spent another moment marveling at how he was able to see through the pages of the book.
He flipped through it, expecting to be able to understand all of the strange scribbles with ease. However, he quickly realized that there was something unnatural or strange about the text. The later parts of the book didn’t make any sense. He could feel that they were written in the same way as the earlier ones, but no attempt to grasp their meaning succeeded.
> It is said that all life ends at some point or another. The process of death seems like an inescapable barrier that consumes everyone in the end. From the beginning of time, humans have only ever sought to sustain themselves. They build legacies to carry on their works, dreams, and hopes. In this way, they create a temporary form of immortality.
Zayn knew that he shouldn’t have been able to understand those words. Many of them were strange and unfamiliar, but he was able to follow what it meant.
> It is said that there is no solution to the plague that is death. Every living thing falls under its influence. As death is the only true constant in life. It is said that this is the eternal balance of the world, but this is far from true. Despite what numerous sources would claim, there are ways to overcome death.
>
> Overcoming death is no simple matter, but those who are dedicated to the path of immortality are often able to find a way to achieve it. Once mastery of death is accomplished, anything is possible as the gateway between this world and the next is open to your desires. Controlling death allows an individual…
Zayn looked away from the page. Controlling death. He looked into the pit and the shapes that lay within it. No one needed to die. If he could open the gateway between the world of the living and the world of the dead, he could bring everyone back, right?
> …to accomplish truly impressive feats. The needs of a living body no longer need to apply, as sustenance and nutrition can be drawn from the very world around them.
He paused as he realized how thirsty he had gotten, so he wandered over to the well and drank deeply. Then he sat down in the shade of the well to keep reading.
> This extends far beyond overcoming the limitations of the flesh, as they can shape the very essence of a person and their physical limits. As they gain a greater understanding of death, they can not only overcome its influence but can gain control over all living life.
Zayn stopped at that part. It was getting harder to understand the meaning of the text and it was getting more and more nonsensical. What did it mean to shape their limits? What were the limitations of flesh? What would gaining control over life mean?
It sounded so outlandish that he just couldn’t take it anymore. The world wasn’t full of demons, dragons, and fairies. It was just the world, full of people and animals. He let his eyes wander around the small collection of buildings, and he was drawn to that abysmal hole in the ground. It had devoured his home.
If ever there was a demon, that was one of them. If that was a demon, then there could easily be magic in this world.
The word that the wind had taunted him with floated through his mind. It had called him powerless. Unable to do anything. He looked at the strange ghostly book, and then he realized he had stopped reading it because he couldn’t believe in magic.
> The path of mastery is difficult. You must devote yourself to the path of death without any reservation. All of those who walk this path begin surrounded by death. They have faced it and chosen to live, regardless of the cost. To begin the path of a devotee
> Every necromancer is born from death. If you are reading this tome, there is a great number of dead nearby. You must use them to devote yourself to the path of immortality. Take the corpses of the dead and use them to further your knowledge.
>
> Ingredients
>
> 1 Human Brain
>
> 1 Human Heart
>
> 1 Human Lung
>
> 1 Human Spinal Cord
>
> 1 Preserved body
>
> These components must be arranged in the correct patterns for the circle to form properly. Each one represents a different aspect of the human condition, and the applicant must understand their place regarding the ritual circles.
>
> The ritual circles are arranged as a reflection of all the elements needed to sustain life. Each part of the body serves a function and represents one of these elements. To begin the process you must create the proper tool as only the flesh of life can be used to create life.
Zayn had already done the unthinkable.
It wasn’t like it would do any harm to follow the instructions.
Everyone was already dead.
He set to getting several bodies out of the pit. He had this strange feeling that he should touch the pit itself, the stones surrounding it and that entering it would result in his death. So he ended up using a rope to pull the bodies out. It was rather difficult, but he was able to get body after body free from the pit.
The steps for creating the knife required a specific bone from a human. The ghostly book wasn’t exactly specific as to which bone it was, so it took him a while to find the right one. He felt stupid as he carved several shapes into it, and then the process of extraction could really begin.
The book stressed that there couldn’t be a single scratch on the organs to be removed. He had to get a perfect sample of each piece. This required considerable practice to accomplish. There was a large collection of failed samples for the ones that he succeeded in pulling out. Still, he had his four organs and placed them in their correct places around the pit.
After that, he returned to the book and read about the process of mummification. He read through the process as carefully as he could, learning about how things like temperature and humidity would affect the condition of the body over time.
He looked at the bodies lying in the dry heat, and he knew that he would need several things from them. He also knew that, with a little preparation, he could preserve these bodies. He went through them all and carefully took pieces he could use and made sure that they could dry in as natural a process as possible.
He did his best to prepare an ample supply of both food and water for a journey. The only thing he wasn’t sure about was where he should go. Based on how the people for Emberfall had reacted to his news, Zayn suspected that they would view him as unclean.
Rather than following the road directly out of town, he went farther to the west. There was a decent overlook of the road, and he was able to see what he suspected would be there.
Spearman.
The metal heads shone bright yellow in the sunlight, twinkling like strange lanterns and their metal shone almost as brightly. The metallic golden color left no doubt in his mind.
They had absolutely no interest in letting anyone from the village leave.
He felt his skin tingle.
They wouldn’t let him live.
They already say anyone in the village is cursed or diseased. Either way, there was no hope of escaping this direction. Even if he managed to get around them, an easy enough feat. There were only a few sources of water outside of this area, and none of them would be difficult to guard. These men were probably going back to the first well on the way out of the village.
So that left only one real way to escape.
Through the uncrossable wasteland.
A place that killed anyone who tried to cross it.