The Ritual
I was excited and nervous. This was the day; the day I will find out my future. All the children of the village were going to be tested for their affinities… if they have an affinity for a type of mana, they will rise, and become a mage. It was the hope of everyone that their child would become a mage. It was one of the few ways one can rise in this world.
A mage of Light had shown up at the village, to take a census and test the children for their affinities. This happens about every ten years, so to keep accurate. I myself was nine, on the older end of the kids being tested. Still I had hope. Would I become a mage? Would I be a sturdy earth mage, capable of blessing fields and raising walls of rock? Would I become a mage of Light? Spreading healing, and curing diseases? Or perhaps I will become a famous pyromancer, and bring ruin to the enemies of the holy empire. These thoughts, these fantasies, swirled about my mind as I waited for my turn for the test.
I almost miss when it is my turn, caught up in my thoughts. “Boy! Pay attention” The old mage said. And so my test begun. The mage was silent for long minutes. “Come with me, boy, I need to conduct a few extra tests.” My heart did flips. Would I be a mage?
I was led to a building, and the light mage turned to me with a complex expression on his face. “Boy… you have an affinity… but you will never be a mage” His words bounced around in my head. I was confused, so I asked why. “Boy, you have an affinity for death; for necromancy… I'm actually supposed to kill you… but I cannot bring myself to. You must never try to become a mage. Never become a necromancer, or you will be put down.”
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I woke from my dream. Once it was a nightmare… now I am numb to it. Needless to say, I did not heed those words, seeing my surroundings are filled with undead. Today… I will ascend. I will discard my fragile life, and become more.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
My activities have not been unnoticed. My undead were fairly discrete, burying themselves until nightfall, and digging up graves for more parts. Unfortunately, I was noticed anyway. I have fallen back many times. Hopefully, tonight will be my last.
I stood from my bed, and began striding through the halls of the small tomb. My undead were mostly hidden, save for a few guards. They will ambush the templars, to give the illusion that I am desperate, and want them to die. Maybe a few will die; that will be nice. However, I don’t expect them to succeed. Indeed, I do not want the templars to fail.
I turn the corner at a junction. It was almost time now. My scout skulls have reported the templars nearing the tomb. I will have to prepare the ascension ritual quickly. If i get the timing wrong, they will believe themselves too late… or will come too early, and mess things up.
I feel a sense of loss as my undead begin to be cut down. Most necromancers think of the undead as merely tools… but I feel for them nonetheless. They are my only family. I have reached the ritual chamber. In the center is a prepared skeleton with engraved bones, and careful linen wrappings. It is decorated with enchanted jewelry. Next to it is a staff made from the twisted bones of three children who died of plague. This is the kind of morbid thing that most necromancers go for when making a phylactery for their soul.
I begin chanting my ritual. The walls, covered in skulls, begin to glow, and I feel the death energies begin to suffuse my body, becoming weaker as I do so. Death energies can be toxic to necromancers as well; hence why so many appear sickly and pale. We are not immune to it. It truly takes a lot of willpower and control to make a ritual like this work.
My voice starts as a whisper, slowly raising in volume as all of my undead start also. I feel the fighting become more frantic, as the templars try to reach me before I complete the ritual. I begin to feel the body of the skeletal form before me, and the staff, as the three of us become linked by the energies. My body starts going numb, and I have to really work on focusing, my vision going darker.
The templars reach my ritual chamber right as I reach a crescendo, and my skeletal form stands up, staring at the intruders. “FOOLS. Leave now and I may spare your souls!” I shout at them through my skeletal form, and take up my staff, as the skulls around me continue the chanting, my original body falling to the ground, lifeless.
Our battle was short and intense. I killed three of them before I was slain, and my phylactery was destroyed. I faintly heard their shouts of celebration as I faded out of consciousness. I would smile if I could; everything went according to plan.