Anastacia plopped down on the rock she had been camping on and exhaustedly moved the shoulder that had been a casualty in the effort of teaching the spriggans something new. Delightful as they were, the troupe of lesser spriggans were definitely a handful and exhausting to be around for anyone with the stamina of a mere mortal. Just in a few hours with them, Anastacia had burned through much of her energy for the day. After the debacle at the coffee plant, they had visited a few more points of interest around the grove, until one of the spirits realized that they had collectively been ignoring their duties to stalk the necromancer for the past couple of days. Anastacia of course promised that once they had a free moment again, she’d be happy to spend time with them again, and managed to ease their sorrow over having to leave the side of their new friend so quickly.
She had taken the branch of the coffee plant along and occasionally kept gnawing on the fruits and the incredibly hard seed in them for a reason she herself didn’t quite know either. Perhaps it was some level of addiction, or simply the need to get at least something out of the disappointment.
With most of the spriggans that had kept watch on her dealt with, and Xamiliere perched on a root in the distance but too distracted by her thoughts to see the necromancer’s return, Anastacia had a moment of almost pleasant loneliness for the first time in the couple of days in the grove – a chance to collect her thoughts in peace. She had certainly learned much from the ancient spirits, about the world, the spirits themselves, necromancers and even about herself. So much so that it was a bit difficult to put much of it into use immediately. The most pressing matter, once she and Xamiliere returned to Valor and were done receiving a perhaps deserved earful from Rosie, would be to ask Armaata about a suitable crown for her. She had hoped to get rid of her origin’s influence on her life and being crowned as a white necromancer was a revolting idea, since it would no doubt drag her closer to Mournvalley again, but its value as a weapon against the sect couldn’t be understated. So far, the only two beings that counted as ‘red’ were a deranged stump of a necromancer who was currently missing, and a projection of some kind of an ancient fiend – neither of whom could exactly be relied on, so being able to tackle the problem without them would be a great step forwards, even if it meant getting slightly cursed in the process. Once that was sorted, she could simply wait out the problem to see if either Cobalt and Maya or what was left of the Wrath Core chased the sect out of hiding. Trying to find beings that hid in some other plane of existence seemed like a fairly pointless effort to begin with, so Anastacia was perfectly happy to leave it for more driven folks to do. Her part in the world was to act as a hammer, and she would gladly do so once the nails were found.
There were also a few other matters she wanted to sort out instead of starting a wild-goose chase. While Iris’ wings were likely completed by the time she would return to Valor, Anastacia did actually want to see what the inquisitor was about and keep an eye on her for a day or two after she regained the use of her powers. At least speaking to Acacia had made her less worried about Emilia’s condition, and there wasn’t much she could do about it to begin with, but it still ranked pretty high on the list of matters important to her. Then there was the matter of Spirit, the broken down and corrupted chunk of an immobile simulacra she had picked up from the diplomatic meeting. The simulacra made deity called Prince of Life had confiscated the poor Spirit, but she definitely wanted to properly meet the soul dwelling inside Spirit now that she had the means. Absentmindedly tracing the burned patterns on her arm with her finger, the necromancer hoped her sudden absence hadn’t left her machine companions lonely.
All of this and a few other things she had bouncing around in her mind, were a large part of why she hesitated so much when it came to Xamiliere. Obviously, she was far from being against the idea of them becoming even closer than they already were, but whenever the mood veered dangerously close to being romantic, she would immediately get overwhelmed. Despite having been enlightened on the matters of relationships by Emilia on a couple of occasions, and getting told that she should take all the time she needed for several reasons, as well as the same being reiterated by Xamiliere several times over, she couldn’t help but to be disappointed in herself. She found it incredibly messed up that she was mentally ready to take lives as a job description, but wasn’t emotionally there for a smooch. What made that even more infuriating to Anastacia was that the same description applied to Mournvalley as a whole, and once again she found herself in the company of the last people she wanted to. In her head, she cursed the sly comment from Iris that had implanted the whole idea into her head and robbed her of her innocent and blissful ignorance.
Grumbling and thinking of this and that, she laid down on her back to rest on the cool rock. It wasn’t the most comfortable surface for someone with a sore shoulder, but felt familiar after the countless nights she had spent sleeping over King’s legs, twisted into a back-breaking position anyone over twenty could only cringe at. Slowly, her thoughts slowed down and became foggy as sleep took over, and finding no reason to fight it, Anastacia fell asleep.
“Hoi!” A cheery greeting focused her consciousness as she snapped awake to find herself slumped over a wooden chair.
Disoriented and groggy, Anastacia tried to find her bearings by looking around. The room around her was immediately familiar but she just couldn’t place it anywhere in her memories. Several wooden tables scattered across the fairly large space, all surrounded by empty wooden chairs, just like the one she was on. Worn down wooden floor with clear paths carved into its surface to show the open routes between the tables, what appeared to be a door to outside, a stairway up to another floor, as well as a counter with an open doorway by it – one that Anastacia somehow knew would lead to a kitchen but couldn’t exactly tell how she knew that. All of this felt very familiar to her, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why, let alone where she was. By the door, there were two windows that only showed a foggy void beyond them, one that was in no way inviting and almost felt terrifying to just peer into. Behind the counter were several shelves full of cups, glasses and bottles, as well as a couple of framed boards, painted black to make the chalk writing on them more visible. The lines of writing were only recognizable as such, but she wasn’t able to read them. She could differentiate between letters and numbers for some reason, but it was not a language she knew. Despite the somewhat worn state of the place, there was not a speck of dust in the air or a bit of dirt on the floor, no stains or smudges on any surface, which left the whole space with an uncomfortable atmosphere. It felt like it should have been warm, cozy and homely, but wasn’t. It was dim, sterile and cold, or even sad to look at. There were no fires or lanterns to light it, but a lack of shadows and darkness made everything perfectly visible. The complete lack of sounds and scents was probably even more disturbing than that, amplifying the feeling of everything being off even more.
“Wakey wakey!” Another greeting tore her away from the uncomfortable surroundings and got her to look across the table. Sitting opposite to her was a boy. Around the same age as her, seventeen or so. His skin was naturally tinted, almost dark compared to her ghoulish paleness, and his short frizzy, black hair the complete opposite of her own locks. In many ways the boy reminded her of Iris, but didn’t have any of the tattoos. Another thing that separated the two was the boy’s noticeably pointed ears, not quite elf-like, but getting there. Anastacia was unable to give a name to this face, but it did feel familiar beyond just the passing semblance to a friend of hers.
“Sorry, did I fall asleep?” She asked and fixed her posture.
“Ye did, ye did. Right in the middle of our chat too!” The boy cheerily laughed, seemingly undisturbed by the weird surroundings.
Anastacia rubbed her eyes and took a sip of a completely tasteless liquid from a cup on the table in front of her. “What were we talking about anyway?”
“I was telling ye about what I reckon I want to do in the future” The boy said and leaned onto the table. “I always figured I’d be a baker, ye know? Pretty good at that and everything, but this necromancy business is looking more and more interesting by the day. Think I have a knack for it?”
“Obviously you do. I can’t think of anyone even close to you when it comes to skill – though I was looking forward to all the pies and cakes…” Anastacia sighed and took another sip.
“I’ll still bake, ye idiot, but anyone can bake. Imagine all the cool stuff I could probably figure out about necromancy with a wee bit of effort and materials. Maybe I could even fix our reputation? Use these powers for good, ye know? Start doing proper research, maybe find others like us… It’ll be great!” The boy explained his ambitions, full of hope and gumption.
“That does sound cool.” Anastacia nodded, and kept nodding while the boy kept pouring out all the aspects of necromancy he wanted to try and figure out in the future. It was almost inspiring to hear someone talk about necromancy in such a hopeful fashion.
Suddenly the boy stopped mid-sentence and covertly checked the room as if there could have been someone eavesdropping. He then leaned even closer to Anastacia and gestured for her to do the same. “Wanna know what made me think of this?” He whispered.
“Do tell.” Anastacia said and leaned closer.
“I met someone cute the other day.” The boy whispered and blushed a little.
Anastacia reached over for a discreet high five. “Nice. I guess that’s why I figured out all the simulacra things too.” She admitted and pointed at the patterns on her arm. “But tell me about them. Are they a necromancer too?”
The boy sat back down and raised a finger on his lips. “I will, I will, outside!” He snickered, got up from his seat and headed to the door, gesturing for Anastacia to follow.
Despite the seemingly dreadful conditions outside, Anastacia had no reservations when the two stepped into the thick mist that hid anything that was more than just a couple of meters away. It didn’t even occur to her to stay behind despite the grayscale void being just as terrifying to look into as it had been through the windows.
Almost immediately, she lost sight of the boy she was following, but continued walking onwards on the smooth stone path under her feet. She couldn’t tell how long it took, but eventually her foot hit something she hadn’t expected and she performed an exceptional roll back onto her feet to both disguise her tumble and avoid getting hurt. As she lifted her gaze again, she realized she was no longer in the mist at all. What she had stumbled on had been the edge of a long red carpet that ran over a stone floor, from a large set of closed doors behind her – which she had no recollection of walking through, all the way to the other end of the room, up a few steps to the foot of an opulent throne. To her sides, there were a couple of long rows of less fancy but still intricate chairs behind long tables, all of them facing towards the middle of the room, where she was standing. The same feeling of emptiness and silence she had gotten from the previous place held a grasp of this throne room as well, perhaps even doubly so as it had never been a happy place at all. It all felt very familiar to Anastacia, but she was still unable to place the location within her memories. All she knew for certain that despite their emptiness, each and every seat in the room filled her with hate she didn’t understand.
By the throne, sitting on an unassuming little stool while leaning on the empty throne’s armrest, was the boy – though he was no longer a boy. Closer to Emilia and Yulia in age, somewhere in his mid-twenties, he still had the same distinct look and had barely grown in height. He even still had the same cheery smile on his face, but something was definitely different. In his gentle, chocolate-colored eyes, there was a darkness that hadn’t been there before. A faint undertone of something in every glance and smirk that would have gone unnoticed by most people, but was blatantly obvious to anyone who had known him for as long as Anastacia apparently had.
“If ye- you are looking for our king, I’m afraid you are a bit late. He’s off on a conquest again, eastern reaches to be specific.” The lad said joylessly for what must have been the millionth time based on the amount of wear on his tone. “Oh, it’s just ye.” He realized after looking over and the smile on his face grew a bit brighter.
“I’ve no need for a king, I have my own back home.” Anastacia joked and hopped onto one of the long tables to have a seat without having to touch any of the accursed chairs.
“Ye do, don’t ye… Not as adorable as mine, but I respect yer tastes.” The lad chuckled and levered himself up to sit on the arm rest of the throne instead. “I do wish he’d find more time to enjoy what he has instead of conquering more though – but it’s the time of great champions, and I’ll fight ye if ye claim there to be one greater than him.”
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“Have you tried asking him to stay?” Anastacia suggested.
“I’ve not the selfishness to stand in the way of such drive. The world will run out of lands to conquer and enemies to defeat eventually. Besides, this gives me time for research I can show him once he gets back. Them patterns we got from those underground weirdos open up all kinds of possibilities for even weakest of our kind. Tools and the like, so they can prove their worth to others, so necromancers will become pillars in their communities, instead of getting killed or having to kill.” The lad explained, still brimming with hope whenever he spoke of his research. The idea of his work doing good for the world and necromancers brought back the more bubbly and cheery side of him, but never completely erased the shadow behind everything he said.
The two continued discussing matters near and dear to them, peaceful uses of necromancy, friends and other significant people in their lives, completely unimportant things and more. The lad seemed awfully certain that his research and teachings would lead to a breakthrough in how normal people saw necromancers, finally allowing for peaceful coexistence without prejudice. Anastacia of course had her doubts that such a thing would ever happen, but didn’t want to dash the lad’s hopes since it was a valiant effort regardless of the outcome.
“Once I’ve made a proper set of instructions, I can distribute them and show our dear king that force isn’t the only way to affect this world. Besides, plenty of malicious things from the old days still go bump in the night, our duty should be to protect, without stomping over everyone first…” He said proudly and glanced at the empty throne. “But thems just my thoughts on the pickle. Not a popular line of thinking in these parts.”
“I think you’re right, if that helps.” Anastacia agreed.
The lad let out an exhausted chuckle. “It does, it does. It’s just that… sometimes I feel like my country pumpkin ass ain’t meant for this life of kings and politics. These folks make hard decisions I just shouldn’t be a part of. Been thinking about moving back home until the dust settles, would be better for everyone. I know folks here think I’m in the way, but they can’t exactly speak up, can they? And I’d be able to continue my research in peace!”
Anastacia shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to do. I’m not exactly cut out for that sort of life either. I want to feel grass under my feet and hear the rustling of leaves when I lay down to sleep, not walk on cold stones or listen to backstabbing twats bicker.”
“I know exactly what ye mean.” The lad sighed. “But first, can ye get me something from the library? The head librarian should have a few books for me that she finally got around finding. We can tear into them together once I’ve attended this dumb meeting first.”
“Sure!” Anastacia responded excitedly and hopped off the table.
“Thanks. The library’s right through that door and-“ The lad started to give directions but was interrupted.
Already heading towards the right door in the corner of the hall, she knew the way well despite not really knowing where she was in the first place. “I know where it is. We’ll meet there.” She waved her hand to roughly show the directions in her head.
“Of course you do, silly me.” The lad smirked before returning to the seat by the throne.
Anastacia tugged open the heavy wooden door, which swung with a loud creak that gave her the chills, only to reveal the same impenetrable wall of fog she had gotten lost in earlier. Yet, without a moment of hesitation, she stepped into it and pressed onwards still thinking she knew the way. Walking for what felt like ages, she passed nothing of note. There were no silhouettes in the mist, no sources of light in the distance, nothing but the seemingly endless arrangement of stone tiles under her bare feet. Just as she was about to get tired of walking and lost her focus on her footing, a stone step appeared to once again trip her up. As she got back onto her feet, Anastacia found herself on the wide stone steps of an ominous-looking temple, which immediately made her deeply uncomfortable. Something in the back of her head kept screaming to just run away and never look back, which she might well have done, had she not seer a familiar figure sitting at the top.
Still with the same frizzy haircut, but with even more years weighing down on his shoulders, the boy had become a man of no doubt over thirty years of age. His pointed ears had grown slightly pointier, the tanned skin turned paler and the cheeky smirk was now entirely gone. The once warm and hopeful look in his brown eyes had turned into a cold stare that seemed to be unable to find any points of interest to focus on, instead simply exhaustedly looking into some void with nothing but spite behind them. On his lap, he held a book that Anastacia could have sworn she had seen before, but the title etched onto it was illegible to her.
A very brief flash of recognition and pained joy appeared in his eyes when he saw Anastacia making her way up the stairs despite her instincts telling her not to. “Long time no see… Though you might have been happier to miss me entirely.” He said.
Anastacia sat down next to the man and stared down the staircase. The vacant market square and seemingly abandoned city around it had all the same eerie features as the previous locations. All of it seemed somehow fake, as if it was made to represent a real place and only had one or two details to make it look like it had been lived in once upon a time. Anastacia struggled to even lift her gaze from the stairs to briefly glance at the empty streets and homes without getting overwhelmed by anxiety. “Things not going well then?” She asked, hoping a conversation would distract her from the surroundings.
“I’m afraid you have found me at my lowest.” The man sighed. “I’ve come to realize that there’s no changing this accursed world of ours. Once, I thought it could be me, who brought calm and peace into this nightmare, but the more I think about that now, the more pathetic it all seems.”
“It’s a messy world, there’s no denying that.” Anastacia shrugged.
“I always figured that with a bit more research, a bit more gestures of good will and patience, I could change how things are. I always figured that they didn’t need to be like this… I could make a million helpful implementations for necromancy, save a million little towns from primordial beasts, ignore a million rocks thrown at me, but none of that will change people – necromancer or otherwise.” The man spoke with a tone of regret and apathy. “Normal folks will always find reasons to fear and hate us, and we will always gladly oblige in the end, without a fail. This world was created broken, and apparently, I was the only one foolish enough to think it could be fixed. It takes all you give to it and twists it into a mockery of your intentions. Any kindness shown to it will be returned in hate and violence ten times over. At least those that deal in violence may prosper, and prosper they do.”
Anastacia waited for a while to see if she could come up with a counterpoint, but failed. “I get the sense you’re talking about someone specific with that.” She said in the end.
“On the mark, as always. Every moment we speak, more and more people are crushed by his conquest, and each life lost sparks more resistance against him. My works towards peace aren’t even a drop in the ocean anymore. Once, I figured that a bit of breathing room for our kind was needed, and there would be a line he wouldn’t cross. I may have been a bit idealistic, but I understood that his goals were the same as mine, a world where all manner of people would live as one – his vision may have had himself at the top of it all, but that seemed like a reality check more than anything. I even thought that I would eventually bring out a… kinder side of him – I know there is one even if no one but me is privy to it.” The man continued, slowly getting angry at himself as his emotions build up. “Now I know that his war has done nothing but brought more war, after all these years, peace still isn’t even on the table. In the next ten years? Much of the same, only more of the same.”
“You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.” Anastacia sighed, knowing her words carried absolutely no weight.
“If only it were that simple… But how can I think that when the empire he is building atop all these corpses is for my sake just as much as his own. I think my lofty dreams of a peaceful world is what made him step over the line in the first place, that all of this is his way of granting my wish. He is still exactly as he was when we met, not an ounce of him has grown more evil or merciless over the years, but I gave him the spark that still has not died down.” The man paused for a moment, on the verge of tears over his words. “Of course, I have told him as much, every time we meet I’ve said that I don’t need the world. But… in the world’s hatred towards our kind, he sees hatred towards me, and is unable to forgive the world for it…”
The two were quiet as the man clutched the book he was holding, presumably containing some of the research he had done regarding necromancy. There was no wind or other ambient sounds to break the silence, only a soundless void of a half-formed scenery neither of them really seemed to belong into.
“Some years ago, a thought crossed my mind: I could stop all of this.” He finally continued. “I alone possess the power and knowledge to stop him for good. He could not… and would not stop my hand if only I mustered up the determination to do what’s needed… but I can’t. Despite all of this, I still love him too much and do not have it in my nature. So, the world will burn for my sake, but I can no longer bear the weight of my failures and will let it burn me along with it. Maybe that is a suitable punishment for both of us – pathetic and cowardly as it is.”
Anastacia desperately felt like she should have said something, but the words simply wouldn’t come together in the way she wanted to. It was as if something was preventing her from trying to affect the man’s opinions, or like she wasn’t meant to.
Hearing no response, the man let out an exhausted and dry chuckle and wiped his eyes with his sleeve before opening the book on his lap and flipping through the pages until stopping on a spread marked with a bright violet bookmark, which seemed to be the only thing left in the world with any amount of vividness in its color. “Part of me thinks I should just destroy this as well. My legacy will no doubt be twisted into a disgusting mockery of it by this toxic existence.”
“What is it?” Anastacia asked, surprising even herself when the words once more found their way out of her mouth.
“A manual of sorts, guide for those in our end of the spectrum. I once thought I could bring balance to things if I were to create a group of likeminded necromancers, who could oppose the red this ruthless world favors so much. Yet, we are too few and far apart, might even just be the two of us… You and I.” He explained, almost ashamed for having to have tried. “Just as normal people do, we should broaden our horizons into study of sciences, magics, the divine and what lies beyond it all. With coinciding interests, it would be easier to find goals normal folks and necromancers could work together towards. A foolish idea, I know.”
“I rather like it. Magic and other stuff I’ve learned has let me become friends with a bunch of people I don’t really have much in common with. I know far too many necromancers who think all that stuff is just inferior to necromancy, but a few could probably be convinced otherwise, so it’s not all lost.” Anastacia said thinking that at least Iris saw value in other arts, maybe some of the other new inquisitors as well.
The man let out another, less cynical and dry chuckle. “Thank you, for indulging my fantasy of violet being worn side by side with the other shades, but I’m afraid this world finds ways to corrupt such beautiful visions beyond recognition. That’s what it always does.” He then stood up and began descending the stairs, only to turn around once more when he reached the bottom. “You’ve always been a good friend, but would you do me one more favor? It’s time I step off the stage, but there’s something I feel uneasy to leave alone.”
“Of course. What can I do?” Anastacia asked.
A faint smile appeared on the man’s face. “There is no excuse for what he has done, but he still has the potential for great things, to lead a charge into the heart of darkness. Yet he is the clumsy sort, so promise me that you’ll be there to offer him your hand when he stumbles. I’m not asking you to condone what he has done, or even like him, I know you never did. Simply carry the torch until he finds his footing once more.” He said and squeezed out the last remnants of hope in him into the plea.
“I… I guess I’ll do my best?” Anastacia uttered, unsure whether she could keep such a promise.
“That’s already more than I could ever hope for.” The man sighed and bid farewells with a wave of his arm.
Now alone in the vacant world of grey shades, the inexplicable terror she had felt from the beginning started to overcome Anastacia. The feeling of safety provided by her companion was gone and left behind nothing but a cold, soundless, scentless and ever darkening scene that felt more and more oppressive by the second. Soon the buildings around her began stretching and changing shape, reaching up into the sunless void above. The wide set of stairs she had sat upon now extended down far lower than it had before, and became less than half its original width. The empty streets between the infinitely tall buildings narrowed to a point where she could barely walk through them if she wanted to. Not understanding what was happening or why she found it so terrifying, the necromancer shriveled and curled up into a ball in a vain effort to hide herself or hide the world from herself.
Suddenly she felt a burning sensation in her right shoulder, one that resembled pain but no longer had all the unpleasant aspects of it. The patterns burned onto her arm were lit with bright blue, bringing some much-needed color into the world. She instinctively placed her hand on the stone steps and watched as the patterns of light began spreading from her body into the warped structures around her. Wherever they spread, the bland scenery crumbled and revealed magnificent aureun-built machines that sprang to life. In awe of what was happening and the sheer size and complexity of the mechanisms appearing out of nowhere to crush the nightmarescape around her, Anastacia almost missed the first gust of wind she had felt in a while, one that brought with it the scent of flowers and soil. Just as quickly as the machinery had appeared, great trees now engulfed what was left of the original scenery, turning the buildings into ancient ruins that seemed almost inviting to explore. Just as she was about to turn around to see what had become of the ominous temple behind her, the world disappeared in a flash.
Disoriented and almost disappointed to not be able to stay in the new scenery of ancient machines and lush greenery, Anastacia opened her eyes to see a familiar pair of green lights staring down at her with all the beauty of the grove she had fallen asleep in behind them.
“You seemed to be having a time in there. No idea if it was good or bad time though.” Xamiliere laughed and showed her wrist, which had the necromancer’s fingers tightly latched around it.
“I’m not sure either…” Mumbled Anastacia, already rapidly losing the memory of her dream. “I think it was sad.”
“Well, you’re awake now, and I’m here. I’d hope I was in your dreams too though.” The spriggan chuckled.
Not feeling like getting up or letting go of her friend’s arm, the necromancer closed her eyes again and simply enjoyed the sensations of the real world, even if it was horrendously humid. “Nah, not this time.”
Xamiliere sighed and laid down next to her before darting back up almost immediately. “Wait, what do you mean ‘this time’?”