Grimeye

Souls pierced the night and poured into the pit in a torrent of tens of thousands, forming streams of faint light that ranged from green and blue, to a pale white. Flowing into the deep darkness that rested at the bottom of the abyss. As they passed, they illuminated the small rivers and waterfalls formed by the torrential rain that flowed to the bottom, the water stirred the earth that hid the bones and remains of clothing that now protruded from the high walls of the immense pit.

The spirits continued slowly, descending down a hill covered in a foliage of stiff limbs, armor and crumbling weapons that fed a fauna of grubs and scavengers of all kinds. Reaching the deepest depths, ignored by twisted beings with blind eyes, consuming withered flesh.

They entered the bottom of the pit, at the end of their long journey, and were greeted by a pool of blood and thick bile, bubbling more and more with each anima they devoured as they plunged into the lagoon.

The earth trembled, everything within the abyss began to be drawn into the bubbling liquid. Thousands of corpses, with their attire and belongings, along with the creatures that fed on them; even some of the earth impregnated with the fluids of the dead were dragged into the liquid.

It was then that the pool rose into the air, forming a weightless sphere that moved several feet away from the muddy ground below, and began to shrink, collapsing in on itself as the last souls flowed into it. Suddenly it spilled out onto the ground, leaving a single naked body. Inert for several minutes, until it was shaken by the first spasm and began to breathe.

Air entered his lungs with a pain that strained his back. Grimeye struggled to his feet. The stab wounds still burned, no matter how much no trace remained on his pale, gray skin. His handling of necromancy was impeccable. Not even the traitors of the council could defeat him. But he really didn't understand how he had come back to life. Fear invaded his thoughts as he realized he didn't have his dagger. He would not be able to summon his full power without the focus that held the enslaved souls that gave him the energy he needed. But something was different. Naked, soaked and weak, he began to scour the pit in search of an exit, illuminating only with the dim light generated by the sinister energy emanating from his body in an erratic flow of black and blood red hues. He picked up some dirty thick woolen rags he found; they were damp and stained with blood and other fluids, in a vain attempt to protect himself from the cold and freezing rain until he found something better.

After hours of trudging through the darkness. During the long climb up a hill of muddy earth that seemed to have no end, he came to a wall of mud and human remains that blocked his path. From where he stood he could not see the surface, the walls were too high, and with the night closed in by the storm, it seemed that an unearthly darkness covered the whole place.

One word flooded his mind as the energy around him seeped into the earth. Ascend. Ascend. Countless faces emerged from the mud wall to stare at the one who had awakened them, stretched out their arms of old bones and rotting flesh. Ascend. Giving support to their feet and hands. Ascend. They lifted him up. And then plunged back into the muck. The sky emerged at last as he reached the edge of the moat. He breathed in the warm air that contrasted with the unearthly cold of the pit, and, not knowing where he was, began to seek shelter from the rain that was falling heavier and heavier. His eyes, he could see more easily in the open. In the distance a dense forest surrounded the place in all directions. There was danger in traversing places like this. The brittle and lifeless earth that stretched hundreds of meters from the abyss from which he had emerged to the beginning of the forest was not a good sign, but no matter, he hoped to find an imperial road that would lead him to a village where he could take shelter.

As he advanced he perceived the light of a lamp, it was approaching from the trees. He decided to continue advancing. Two figures protected with ringed armor appeared, armed with short swords and light crossbows. A dim light emanated from inside both men. Take them... He could see it shining in the depths of their eyes. Attracting him like light to the insects of the night. Take them... the voices inside him said.

A boy carrying a medallion of the order of paladins, with which he illuminated his step, approached him.

-Hey you! In the name of the Light, what are you doing here? he asked, looking nervously at the surroundings.

-Where are we?” he asked with an empty look.

The second guardian, who was still silent, approached with his hand on the hilt of his sword. But sensing the unholy energy flowing around the necromancer, he quickened his pace. -

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-It's a damned profane! Boy, get away from him!” he commanded, charging at the same time as he unsheathed the sword with one hand.

The guardian charged at the necromancer, passing by the side of his younger companion, who stepped back and hastily readied his crossbow.

-Die, heretic!” shouted the fanatic, with an angry expression.

But the sword never reached its destination. Grimeye's hand closed over the raised wrist covered in leather and rings, which cracked as dark energy penetrated layer after layer, reaching the limb beneath. In a second, flesh and bone disintegrated, the hand fell to the ground still holding the sword. The warrior's attempt to move away was not fast enough. The necromancer's left hand struck him in the ribs as he slid to the side, facing the boy. The first guardian's organs began to fail, he fell agonizingly to the ground clutching his severed forearm in a vain attempt to stop the blood escaping through the now black veins and arteries that fed the wound. The young paladin's reaction was not very fortunate. He began to tremble uncontrollably and fired a bolt into the earth in front of the heretic's feet. He was petrified, urine was running down his legs and he was still aiming the unloaded crossbow at him. Grim eye advanced before the young man finally reacted to draw. He struck him in the chest with the palm of his hand, breaking the rings that protected the chest, as well as the sternum and some ribs; causing him to exhale the air in his lungs along with the life. The souls of both men broke free from the lifeless flesh and entered the necromancer, drawn inside him by something unknown to him. The light from their bodies disappeared.

At that moment, the cold, and the tremors, also disappeared.

Several days passed since he left the pit. He scoured the forest in search of a place to rest, without success, so that for the first few nights he could not sleep, disturbed by the incessant noises of the creatures that roamed in the darkness. He had taken one of the guards' short swords just in case. Though the only thing he had used it for was cutting brush.

After walking through that maze of logs and mucky ferns that seemed to have no end, and being guided eastward by the position of the sun he came to a path that looked as if it hadn't been traveled for years. He had no setbacks during his slow but steady progress, and the worry over his lost dagger was quickly overshadowed by the realization that five days had passed and he still did not feel thirsty, or hungry.

He tried eating wild berries he found along the way, which resulted in vomiting soon after ingesting them. He drank in a river of dark, still water, before washing himself and the ill-fitting clothes he was wearing, but had the same pitiful results.

He also took advantage of the reflection of the water to check his body, which he felt uncomfortable, alien.

Her appearance was different, in part.... Her black hair down to her shoulders, with no hair on her face or the rest of her body. His features were somewhat soft, his musculature worked by the violent training to which the members of the sect were accustomed. Everything looked the same, except for the ashen color of his skin, warm to the touch, in contrast to the icy sensation inside him. And the irises of his eyes were an unnaturally deep red. The same color of the energy that constantly surrounded him. His dilated pupils were unresponsive to light and bulged through cracks that connected to the rest of the eye. His eyesight didn't seem altered in the slightest, though.

His moments of sleep were brief. Most nights he lay awake, closing his eyes for only a few moments.

Animals avoided his presence. Even large predators shied away, as if it were a bad omen.

Yet he was breathing, and his heart was beating.

For the rest of the journey he managed to contain the energy that constantly emanated from his body, although he continued to feel it flowing inside him even though it was no longer visible.

Finally, on the horizon he could see the silhouette of a village marked by the sunset.

The gates of the palisade made of logs were open, he was struck by the fact that he did not see a lookout to alert his arrival. Something strange for the peasants when the night approaches.

No sound was heard... Inside, the windows of the houses were broken and their doors open.

Grimeye passed by the watchman's corpse, barely paying attention to his mangled body slumped pathetically at the foot of the ladder of a platform that served to look over the wall.

He began to walk the path between the small wooden houses, all in the same state. Some decorated with blood on their walls or on the few remaining healthy panes of glass.

There were undead creatures walking around the place, slow and erratic in pace. Those that dared to approach to disturb collapsed leaving empty shells as the necromancer's hand reached for them and the flesh split open as the contents that animated them were ripped away.

A village that did not belong to the empire, razed to the ground by the reanimates. Several corpses of men and old men armed with farming tools and the occasional dagger lay on the ground with torn flesh and bite marks.

The souls of those poor devils were still on the spot. I could see them as they were drawn in and absorbed by his energy which again became visible to receive them. Take them...

Each one gave him a hint of the suffering they had endured in their last moments. Dead... Their last words...Too many...It was something beyond his understanding...the children..... As well as the satisfaction that also accompanied them as they melted into their being... Help us...

Up ahead, he found a hut they used as a makeshift stable, but there were no horses or even any filthy draft animals anywhere. Very disappointing. He had had enough of walking and there would be nothing of interest inside the houses worth his time. The silhouettes moving inside were surely not of living people.

He decided not to be distracted anymore and continued on until he found a village that was still standing.