The Dark One had accomplished his goal, the setting sun dropped below the city as the rot began to spread, consuming the landscape. What was once fertile soil, now sat barron and without any appetizing vegetables. Was this my fault, I thought? The ravaging of the city of Nosturdam? Partially, I surmised but who was I to stop an ancient being more powerful than time itself and the people of Nosturdam probably should’ve caught on by now. There was precedent, a full book of precedent.

While the reason for the spread had to do with the initial ritual, it almost certainly wasn't caused by the Blood. The Blood had more to do with George’s condition. His agreeableness was uncharacteristic of the undead man. I couldn’t be convinced that his new personality was the natural cause of having a working body, at least not when his change in temperament was so drastic.

At the very least, George stood alive in the flesh. His iconic scowl was slightly less harsh, his demeanor slightly less grumpy. His lack of rotting brain might’ve done that. But it still didn’t solve the issue with people's control over him. A few wrong words and he would solidify necromancers as the premier child bedside boogey-men. With more resolve than ever, I wanted to prove that necromancers were actually a force of good, just like Alric. Except for maybe dying with my head lopped off. I’d forgo that part.

The trip back to Mudville was uneventful. No bandits lurked in the forest, no calimites of great note. Azog felt at home, as he navigated us through the thick bushes. Rose smiled as the gentle breeze brushed against her hair; it was something that would happen to a Princess. The world was looking up for the four of us.

At the edge of the forest stood a not-so noteworthy village, a village that was known more for the desolate wasteland three days' travel to the East. There were many things about Mudville that just couldn’t be found in the bustling city, like mud. But also the Coward’s Brew.

Inside of the Coward’s Brew, the four of us sat by the bar drinking some celebratory ale. The Inn was dusty from a lack of use, but I didn’t mind. It had been two days since we returned to the small village, and getting accustomed to mundane, day to day life was hard. Well, as mundane life could be with a zombie who’d take orders from just about anyone, unintentionally or unintentionally. The little village girl picking flowers, demanding George do somersaults was a problem. Luckily, a few words with her parents set her straight and freed George from endless somersaults.

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“So, did you two find anythin’ interesting when looking through Alric’s research?” Azog asked.

I’d been going through Alric’s belongings all morning. It wasn’t pilfering when it was your apprentice swiping your trinkets and gizmos. But more than the fancy magic items, it was the information from the haphazardly strewn notes that I really wanted. Or at the very least, some answers as to why Alric had ended up in Mudville. There must’ve been a reason.

George and I looked at each other, a knowing expression on both of our faces. From beneath my robe, I pulled out a wad of envelopes. They were the notes on Alric’s plans, his known contacts, and some basic primers on rituals. I had yet to decipher their meaning.

“There’s nothing in here about how George and I can go about fixing his curse. Just some basic rituals that sound more like gibberish. There was, however, a place we could go to find answers in the Isles of Alcar, an academy for the dark arts.”

Rose eyes grew wide. The Isles of Alcar were also where the Terror Bunny had said the anomaly that wiped out her family was located.

“You promised me that you’d help find my family,” Rose added.

“It’ll just be a small detour, or you can think of it as multitasking. With Azog as our tour guide, I’m sure we’ll be able to do both.” I responded.

Azog stopped wiping the bar and let out a deep sigh. He looked around his neglected bar. Then he looked at George and Rose.

“I guess I can’t have it on my conscience, havin’ you dying in my home. There’s a problem, though. It’s the reason I set up shop here in Mudville, away from my homeland.”

“What are you talking about, Azog?” Rose asked.

“I was exiled from the Isles for doing something I shouldn’t. I was too much of a coward trying to hide. It’s about time I face my people and make amends. It’s time to control my anger.”

“So we’re all in agreement?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Rose, Azog, and George in unison.