When the dark Lord intentions spiraled into taking down the world, the survivors had no option but to resurrect the strongest warlock among the dead—a young boy named Fabien Bodgah. 

•   •   •

Fabien stood bare in the middle of nowhere, his wavy hair spun around the chilling air, blocking any view he got. He pushed his locks aside and looked down at his feet, covered in mud and the other one still inside his own grave where he had been buried almost a century ago. 

Countless thoughts and questions went through his head, he had no memory of yesterday or the day before that. He pushed aside the paranoia and got down on his knee to satisfy the thirst growing in his throat. He pushed his hands into the small, glassy lake that seemed clean under the mystic moonlight but before he could ever sip on the water, a voice tore through the silence and caught him right on time. 

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” The old man said, his voice gruff and strong. “I usually throw a lot of animal blood in there,” he added, terrifying Fabien even more. 

Fabien jolted upon hearing the man, he turned around and looked at him. “Who are you?” 

“Micheal Duke. Nice to meet you, Fabien.” The man limped closer to the boy and stretched his hand out to give him a warm welcome back to the world of living. 

Fabien raised his brows in confusion, “How do you know my name?” 

“Well, it isn’t a secret.” The man shrugged, “I was told that I’d find you here,” 

“In a cemetery? In the middle of nowhere?” Fabien asked. His heart thundered inside his chest and the tiny hair on his skin rose with fear. “Wait. I was dead, wasn’t I?” 

“The witches bought you back,” The man threw his large hand over Fabien’s back, “Come with me, boy, you’re hungry and naked.” 

Fabien had memories—memories of the past. He knew that witches existed as he wasn’t a human himself but everything happening around him at the moment confused him to the point where he had to switch off that part of his head. 

Fabien silently followed the old man who claimed to be Micheal Duke—a name he had never heard before. He sensed a lot of danger but decided to go with him anyway. 

The two men walked up to a small blue car that rested on the borders of the wild forest that stretched out for miles. Splints and roots pierced into Fabien’s bare feet and he yelped in pain each time. 

“Careful, boy!” The old man said, ducking his head inside the car and pulling out a pair of fresh pants. There were fresh to him at least. He handed over clothes to Fabien and asked him to dress up as the sun was going to rise soon. 

“Where am I?” Fabien asked, again while putting up his pants that barely fit his skeleton body. He had lost a lot of weight but again, he was dead all along. 

“Kogas,” Micheal replied, plopping inside his car. The high-pressure engine roared and made sounds that disturbed Fabien. “Kogas is a small city, run by humans,” 

“Are you—” Fabien paused, unsure whether he should continue or not. At his time, spilling about creatures was forbidden and could result into severe punishments. 

“Human? I’m a human.” Micheal replied, clearing his confusions. “But you, my boy, you’re a warlock.” 

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Fabien shifted in his seat when he began to feel uncomfortable. The old man knew too much and he was afraid. Numerous questions went through his head again and he began asking them. 

“Why am I alive? I was dead,” 

“You’re alive because the witches wanted you to be alive,” 

“The witches? Who are you talking about?” Fabien furrowed his brows and shook his head. “I don’t remember anything except for being killed by someone.”

“You were dead for over a century, Fabien, you won’t remember anything.” Micheal said to him as he went down the invisible path that led towards the city. 

Fabien pursued his lips together and looked outside at the beautiful fields and forests that passed by his view. The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears and he quivered, uncertainty all over his face. There were so many things he wanted to ask, to learn about, to tell but it all had to wait. 

The car came to an abrupt stop outside a small butcher shop and Micheal stepped out, meanwhile, Fabien looked around. Everything seemed normal to him—at least what he thought. A few cars were passing by, their lights almost blinding the newly resurrected Fabien. The streets were fairly empty, the buildings were taller than he had ever seen and the air was clean. Nothing was different than those years he had lived as a warlock.

A strange noise of someone dragging something ticked Fabien off and snapped him out of his thoughts. He stepped out of the car and found the old man tugging on a white bag that was covered with blood. 

“Oh, God, you have killed someone!” He exclaimed, surprised. Micheal didn’t seem like the man who’d kill anyone at all. “And, now you’re covering it up.” He added as he watched him drag the body into the butcher shop. 

“It ain’t a body, Fabien, it’s a mule deer. Are you hungry or not?” Micheal snapped back at him. “If so, open this door for me,” 

For a thin moment, Fabien didn’t believe the man, he asked him to open up the white bag so he could see what was inside. Once he saw that it was a mule deer, dead, he stepped away and opened the small door for him. 

His stomach churned and twisted with hungry as he watched Micheal drag in the fresh meat he was going to devour tonight. A hundred years dead definitely made him hungry. 

“There we go, that wasn’t hard, was it?” Micheal asked, breathing heavily as he dropped the bag on the ground. 

“You hunt?” 

“Of course, I do. I’m a butcher,” 

“Oh, interesting.” 

While the butcher chopped and cooked up the mule deer, Fabien went inside his apartment that was just above his shop. He went through his things even though it was wrong and found nothing suspicious except for that Michael knew about witches and warlocks. 

Humans could never find out—that was the first rule Fabien ever learned when he became a warlock a hundred years ago. 

He shrugged off the unusual feelings and went through Micheal’s books that were stacked next to each other on a neat, wooden bookshelf that stretched till the ceiling. Fabien pulled out a couple books and came to a conclusion, the scripts were changed and the writings were different than his time being around. 

A certain book caught him off surprise and he reached out for it but before he could get it, the door knocked open and Micheal walked inside with steamed meat in his hands. 

“Ah, snooping. The witches warned me that you were known as the mischievous boy back when you were alive,” Micheal chuckled, placing the plats down over the small, round dinner table he had. 

“No,” Fabien stepped away from the bookshelf, “I was just going through the books. You have a nice collection here,” he complimented. 

“Thank you. Have been collecting books since the day I was born,” Micheal replied, winking at his direction. 

The two men sat together on the table. Fabien hesitated to eat even though he was hungry. He had seen a lot of events and moments when someone had poisoned the other through food. At his time, warlocks hated each other. 

“I haven’t poisoned it, boy.” Micheal said, pushing him the plate filled with fresh meat that had been just out of the oven. “If I were to kill you, I’d be more smart,” 

Fabien raised his head and then nodded before taking a bite of the meat, it was fine and well-cooked just as how he liked it. The growing hungry in his stomach was immediately satisfied and he felt better. 

“Are you going to tell me how I am alive?” Fabien asked. 

“The witches,” 

“The witches?” He raised a brow. 

“The witches scarified themselves to bring you back to life so you could complete a task for them,” Micheal explained, a bite still stuck between his teeth. He wanted to wait but the boy couldn’t. 

“What task? And, what witches? Do I know them?” 

“I don’t know about that but they asked me to give you this letter,” Micheal pulled out a handwritten, scarlet envelope and handed it over to Fabien, “It’s long and it’s yours so take you time to read,” 

Fabien stopped eating then and there, he took the envelope and turned it around to see an initial that he recognized. 

It was sent from the House of Witchcraft—the magic parliament.