Prologue
The Gravekeeper
Immortality.
Something that humanity has been trying to obtain for as long as their history goes.
To become engraved in the tales of the world, from leaving a legacy that would never be forgotten to accomplish things worthy of being called legends, humanity has tried to obtain immortality from very different ways.
But one always remained in their mind, the one way to truly become immortal, to avoid the grasp of death itself.
To live eternally.
For long those that have immersed themselves in the art of the arcane have tried to accomplish such a task, to be able to surpass humanity and become something else, something closer to God itself.
But could such a desire really be obtained by mere mortal hands? Plenty believe that it is impossible, for even those that have spent their whole life trying to avoid the sands of time have found themselves with nothing until their last breath.
However to say that such journeys haven’t brought consequences to the world would be a lie, for after so long the world discovered something that they should have never even dared to grasp.
To bring the dead ones back to life: the act of resurrection.
But to do something like that, to dare to intervene with the natural order of life and death was considered the greatest insult one could make to God itself, for it meant going against the balance that it had created.
A taboo was made, one that even today was still being broken by those foolish enough.
And that’s when our story begins, with one lonesome man who has seen the rise and fall of mankind, a duty on his hand given to him by God itself.
To hunt for those that dare to break the taboo.
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“How…quaint” if a normal person were to hear those words, or even just the light tone that was used to describe the current sight, it would make said person think of just how insane someone had to be to say such a thing.
Those words were nothing but an understatement, but as the owner that voice walked, the light of the moon bathing the hooded cloak that covered his body from the world, it was more than obvious than those words weren’t said out of false bravado.
For as he walked, the silver eyes that his hood kept hidden showed nothing but a glint of familiarity, a sardonic smile plastered on his pale face, a few strands of long black hair leaving his hood as his gaze wandered during his walk, his eyes lingering for a second each time they met those of the current residents of the one calm town.
For the once peaceful village had been reduced to nothing but a wasteland, from still burning houses to simply demolished ones, the stench of death filling the man’s nostrils, although if it bothered him he didn’t show it at all.
The streets weren’t deserted though, even if it looked like a riot had engulfed the town completely there were still people walking through the streets, passing by the man, their clothes, or at least what was left of them, showing that there were nothing but villagers.
Or at least, they had been once before.
Because of right now, the beings walking aimlessly through the city were anything but humans. Rotting flesh, howls and moans that couldn’t be considered humans by any means. Some of them weren’t even walking, but rather crawling on the dirt below, some of the limbs missing as they showed their bared their teeth at each other.
A scene of nightmares that would have any sane person scarred for life, for the only beings that resided in the town were those that the cloaked figure couldn’t be more familiar with, even if he tried.
The undead.
Walking corpses filled the streets, their gaze lost as some of their tattered clothes and discomposed flesh fell from their body as they moved slowly, while others simply stood on their place, growling randomly as they clawed whatever they could find.
From man to woman, elders to children, they filled the cloaked man’s sight. They all had one thing in common though, and it was that no matter their state they all turned to look at the man as he passed by them, or rather at the object on his back.
Covered in a brown cloth, a long object resided on the man’s back, said object going from his right shoulder to the left side of his waist. It looked cylindrical on the center, but on the lower side it had an almost triangular form, bigger than the man’s head, while on the upper side it had a small rectangular form.
And it was such an object that told every single undead just who the man that was now walking among them really was. It was only for that recognition that they didn’t outright attack him, in fact they openly let him pass through them, although a few of them went as far as to start following him.
The man ignored all of this though, his gaze focused on the front. He was far too used to even react to it, although he politely nodded to a few of them that had moved closer than the rest. This was their town after all, no reason for being rude.
“Humans never learn, do they?” however it was once he reached the center of the village that he stopped moving, his eyes glued to the once carefully crafted statue that showed the founder of this village, although now it looked nothing like it once did in the days of old.
The man didn’t particularly care though, as a hum escaped his throat, his right hand moving towards his chin as his eyes roamed what was left of the town.
The place itself wasn’t that big compared to other cities, which was no surprising considering how far away it was. Getting here without a horse would take days from the main road. That was probably the main reason for no merchants coming here, forcing the people to grow their on food.
Then again, it was probably because of how far away this town was that it had been targeted.
The man suddenly stopped humming though, for he felt a tug from his robe. He looked down, his eyes meeting those of a small creature that, judging by what it was left of its clothes and it’s rather petit frame, had once been nothing but a little girl.
Then again maybe that wasn’t the best way to describe it, for even if the man looked at her, the undead child had no eyeballs on its sockets to look back, the man’s silver eyes meeting nothing but empty holes.
That didn’t stop the thin smile that appeared on his lips though.
“Don’t worry, child” the light tone that escaped his lips once again betrayed his current situation “I shall attend you all soon, but first I must finish my duty”
And as he said that his right hand moved from his face to the object on his back, the completely bandaged limp tugging at one of the ropes that kept said object secured inside the brown cloth, his actions allowing for one of the tips of it to be free of it’s sheath, the outside world finally catching a glance of whatever the man had been carrying.
He closed his eyes as his hand finally touched the object, his slightly dirty bandages meeting the grey wood of a handle that connected to some sort of wooden cylinder, however nothing more could be seen.
His head moved slightly as the smile on his lips slowly grew bigger until the point that ‘feral’ became the only way to describe it, his eyes suddenly opening as he looked to his left, and his gaze going as far away as it could, although even if he couldn’t see it he already knew where to go.
He had found his prey.
“Why is it always a cemetery? People never cease to disappoint me” he said with a chuckle as he shook his head, giving one last polite nod to the undead child on his feet just before he moved away.
He had a job to finish, after all.
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A prodigy, he had once been called that. The heir of a powerful and wealthy family, a man that would one day help shape the future of the Kingdom, the pride of his House, he had been called all of that through his years.
For he was Edmund Ouswell, a prodigy in the arts of the arcane, a master of magic even at such the young age of twenty. A man of such mind and charisma that he could have taken any noble daughter’s hand for marriage without receiving any complain.
However, it was impossible for anyone to relate that perfect image to the man that was right now kneeling in the shadows of a mausoleum.
His once brilliant blonde hair had now been reduced to nothing but dirty strands. The once sharp qualities of his face that made him handsome were now gaunt shells of what they used to be. The expensive looking robes he used to wear now looked like nothing but a homeless’ clothes.
But he didn’t care though. He didn’t care if his current looks would immediately bring shame to his family. None of that mattered to him. No, the only thing that was on both his mind and heart was the motionless body that lied right beside him.
Almost like a doll that would break if you even thought about touching it, right besides Edmund laid a beautiful woman on her early twenties. The small specs of moonlight that penetrated the mausoleum shined on her pale face as long blonde her was sprawled below her, a gorgeous silver dress accentuating her beauty even more.
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But it didn’t matter how much Edmund wished for the woman to wake up. To grace him with her smile, to cover him with her melodious voice or to let him shower her with the love he had for her, for she would never again open her eyes and be the same person he had fallen in love with.
For she wasn’t asleep, no air entered her lungs not did her chest raise and fall. She was dead after all, the only reason her body had not decomposed after so long being his own intervention with the help of magic.
They had all called him crazy, or said that it was nothing but puppy love, after all how could someone like him fall in love with nothing but a hardworking peasant girl, even if that girl’s beauty could rival anyone else he had met in his life.
But even the comments of his peers had not been enough to stop him from pursuing her, for it was only her that could make him happy. It was only her that brought light to his once bleak world.
But life wasn’t fair, now was it?
She was taken away from him far too soon.
But he could fix it. No, he would fix it. He knew he could, what good was the title of prodigy if he couldn’t even save the woman he loved.
So he had done so. He had done the unspeakable deed and used this town as his own guinea pig. He had the information but he needed to perfect it, his beloved deserved no less from him.
He didn’t care for all the atrocities he had committed in the name of his love. All the blood on his hands, their screams and begs all had fallen deft on his hears. Even if he had to turn into a monster, he would do so gladly if it meant being with her once again.
But he knew just what his actions had caused. He wasn’t scared of the punishment he would receive by the Kingdom’s law. No, the executioner that had been sent towards him was one that didn’t answer to society.
He knew what dwelling in these arts would bring to him, and he was more than ready to face God’s wrath.
“I promise I’ll return to you” he whispered as he kissed her temple. He knew what was approaching, he could feel the shift in the air, and he knew he had no other choice but to face it.
So he walked out of the small mausoleum, his head held high as his blue eyes burned with the will to not fail today.
The first thing he heard as soon as he stepped outside were the howls of the dead ones. Undead filled with vision as they moved around the mausoleum, almost as if defending it. He wasn’t worried about them of course, they were his own creation, and his will was their command.
Maybe a small part of him did feel bad for what he had done, but he had repressed that a long time ago. Such thoughts wouldn’t help him bring back his beloved after all.
He gave one last look to the mausoleum before resuming his walk. He looked like man walking to war as undead and tombstones surrounded him, although none stood on his path.
It didn’t take long for him to stop moving though. He didn’t want to put his beloved in danger’s way after all, so this distance away was necessary. He took a shaky breath as he clenched his jaw, nervousness won’t help him here, but he had prepared himself.
That didn’t make the oncoming figure any less terrifying for the man.
A cloaked figure approached him, completely ignoring the hellish beings that were starting to surround them. He wasn’t able to see the figure’s face, but he could feel his eyes on him as dread started to set itself in his heart.
The cloaked being stopped his march a few meters away from him, but neither of them spoke. It looked like the cloaked figure was more than content with simply watching Edmund, although the blonde man’s lips were moving almost no sound escaped them.
If someone had been able to hear what he was saying, they would have realized just what kind of chant it was.
“I see you have decided to face your punishment head-on… I can almost respect that” the almost friendly tone that cloaked figure used was enough to send shivers down Edmund’s spine, but he didn’t stop his chant.
He just needed a few more seconds, something that the cloaked man seemed surprisingly comfortable with giving him.
“This is normally the part when you start begging for forgiveness” the figure said while tilting his head, although his next words were enough to almost stop Edmund’s chant “Or do you have that much faith in whatever spell you’re trying to use?”
And just as he once again started moving, Edmund muttered the last word that he needed.
“Burial”
The next thing that happened was something that only those versed in the arcane would be able to understand, for not even a second after finishing his chant the ground below the hooded man shinned in a dark brown color just before it completely gave in.
No, it didn’t gave in. The ground at his feet completely disappeared, leaving a massive hole that looked to have no end.
No words, not even a yell escaped the cloaked man’s lips as his body suddenly fell to the darkness below, just for the ground that had suddenly disappeared to appear again in a matter of seconds, almost as if someone hadn’t fallen inside earth itself just a few seconds ago.
Complete silence filled the area just before a shaky smile slowly, but surely, formed itself in Edmund’s lips, his legs finally giving in as he felt to his knees, shallow breaths living him as his eyes were opened as wide as they could.
Even if that being couldn’t be killed, there was no way he would be able to escape the prison that was earth itself, or at least not any time soon. Preparing such a trap had not been easy, but he couldn’t deny that it had been more than worthy.
Now he could continue his work. With enough time he was sure, he was sure he would be able to bring his love back into the land of living, he just knew it!
However, all of that burst of calmness that had just swarmed his body suddenly vanished as the sound of clapping filled the area, his smile becoming a frown as his body trembled, the sound coming from right behind him.
And then that same voice came to mock him.
“I’ll give you credit for using such a thing without any type of focus point. Truly the mark of a prodigy, although you would think that by now you would be able to separate an illusion from reality”
It was the truth. It was the common rule that for someone so be able to use magic they needed a focus point, or rather, an object in which they could canalize the energy that came out from their very own soul. From wands to staff, to even jewelry or other type of weapons, there were specialized items for anyone that desired to dwell into the arcane.
But to do so without one? Truly remarkable, although considering the cost of it, hardly worth it.
Not that it mattered much to the cloaked figure. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it, nor would it be the last. He honestly found it mostly amusing, how desperate could people become when they knew they were drawing their last breaths.
So it was another chuckle that escaped him as his prey suddenly bolted upwards and turned around to glare him with a deranged stare.
Another show of prowess was displayed by the young man, as he didn’t even need a chant for his next action. A blue aura covered his arm, this being the signal of someone calling forth the power of their soul, but just a second later the spectacle of light was replaced by the angry form of one of the elements itself.
Bright orange flames danced on his arm, the heat coming out of them being easily felt by the hooded man as he watched the magic in action with a raised eyebrow, his own right hand also moving towards the object on his back, for he already perfectly knew just what was going to happen.
Edmund didn’t disappoint, for just a second later he threw his arm in front of him, the flames leaving him as they swirled towards their intended target.
They never reached him though.
For just as they were about to meet him, just as the heat of the attack truly got close, he swung his right arm, the object on his back tightly grasped on his hand, the triangular-looking point meeting the flames.
And just like how they ground had suddenly vanished before, so did the flames as soon as they came in contact with the object, leaving nothing but small cinders to prove the existence of the attack, the sudden movement releasing the object from the confined of its sheath, allowing Edmund to get a sight of his executioner’s weapon.
Dark grey wood made the center part of it, said cylindrical part covered in carvings that Edmund had never seen before. He was holding it by the closest part to the handle, which was also made of what looked like wood, only that much clearer, with some sort of cloth tied to the space in which your fingers would normally be.
But it was the point that stopped his spell that had Edmund’s attention. A metallic looking curved triangle met his gaze, his eyes drowning themselves on the dark ebony color that it had. He couldn’t even tell when the body of the weapon ended and when the tip started, for it looked like roots were extending themselves from it towards the metallic point.
All in all, Edmund never believed that he would be honestly intimidated by a shovel of all things, even if right now it looked like a scythe, being held by the reaper itself.
“While I find this futile attempt of rebellion rather amusing, I suggest you to stop” the cloaked figure said as the body of the shovel came to rest on his right shoulder “For your own good”
His words fell in deaf ears, for Edmund’s arms were suddenly covered in the same dim light just before flames were born from it, the action just getting a shake of the head from his opponent.
But with the undead as their witness, the stream of fire that the young prodigy launched never reached its target, for the hooded man simply held his tool in front of him, the flames disappearing as soon as they came into contact with the metallic side of the shovel.
Ragged breaths left the blonde’s mouth as he grew more desperate by the second, his legs slowly making him move backwards as he wasn’t able to continue with his own spell just as cold started going down from his forehead, the hooded figure slowly walking towards him, shovel in hand.
Edmund stumbled as his back made contact with something, his deranged gaze falling on one of the many undead that had surrounded them for no other reason than to watch apparently, all of the emotions swirling in his heart appearing in one action.
“Get away from me!” he yelled as his arm moved to smack the moving corpse of what had once been a middle age farmer, just like how he had done so many times in the past out of frustration.
Only that this time the result was completely different.
For instead of his arm smacking the dead one’s head, it was the undead’s teeth that found themselves lodged right onto the nobleman’s arm.
A yowl of agony escaped the mage’s mouth as the monster he had made clenched its teeth on his limb, blood gushing out of the gaping wound as the sound of bones cracking could also be heard among the screams of agony.
With a desperate push of his other hand he managed to separate the undead from his arm, his whole body falling to his knees as he found the pain unbearable, his right hand resting on the bloody mess that was now his left arm.
“I severed their connection with you” and among the oncoming undead it was the voice of the executioner that penetrated among their growls “and I’m sure you can guess how unhappy they are because of your actions”
Screams of denials escaped the nobleman’s lips as he crawled backwards from the monsters that he had created, monster that were now hunting for his blood.
This couldn’t be. He couldn’t die here, he was supposed to bring his beloved back. He was supposed to see her smile again, to tell her how much he loved her, to propose and marry her, and to only die from old age by her side, but never like this.
But as his back met the leg of the hooded figure, Edmund finally looked up, and for the first time he was able to see the face of the man that became his end, the shine on those silver eyes and the way the corner of his mouth were slightly raised telling the blonde everything that he needed to know.
This was his end.
“Rest assured, I’ll be sure to bury you right beside your dear beloved” and as he raised his weapon to the air, his word did little to calm Edmund’s restless heart “consider it a departure gift”
His beloved’s name was the last thing Edmund managed to whisper in his life, for the only thought that he had on his last second being on how much he had failed her.
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The light of the sun covered everything that it could, the sound metal meeting earth filling the now desolated town, the hooded figure being the responsible as his shovel finished throwing the dirt onto his newest burial site, a cheery tune escaping his lips as he whistled in content, rows and rows of similar graves surrounding the man.
It might have taken him a couple of days to finish it, but at least he had put all of their souls to rest. He didn’t really need to bury them, he could easily free their souls from their cage made of flesh, however, he wasn’t one to not do a job properly, after all…
Everyone deserves a proper burial.
And with his last grave finished he shoved his tool into the ground, his hands dusting off the dirt out his cloak.
Not to say this journey had not given him something more interesting than the sense of fulfillment from a job well done though, the prove of this being a small black notebook that he took out of his robe, the small leather book belonging to one Edmund Ouswell, or at least it used to.
He doubted he would mind though.
The content of that book making him smile in anticipation as he strapped his shovel into his back, his objective now being clear on his head.
“I guess that will have to wait” and as his feet dragged him from the now ghost town, his only thought was on the foolish people that had decided to dwell onto the forbidden arts.
Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.
And now he was coming for them.