Unto Thee, a Pariah is Born

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

Overall I really liked it, found the cockiness and pride of the younger necromancer commensurate with what I can only assume will be the humbling it seems he's about to experience - which I look forward to reading about when you pick this up again. ;D

There are some problems with the transitions though. I'm not sure if you meant this as a short story type thing, or the "beginning of a novel." Still, "A few years come to pass... " seemed kinda... mmm... contrived? And the tense change throws me too, from the first couple sentences in that paragraph onward. Also, the portion concerning Malik being plopped right at the end, from out of the blue sky, made me *headtilt* huh?

And there are a few things about that cemetary I wanted to understand, if this is a modern fantasy type setting. Is this supposed to be the first time he's noticed the place has been thrashed, even if it's supposed to be his "proving grounds?" Or better yet, has no one in authority realized the descration of the place? If so - then it really begs the question - where is this cemetary, and why is this one so particularly important? A few hints to the reader along those lines would have been nice, methinks.

I'd also be very interested in any of Jeremy's peers or contemporary [living] superiors in necromancy. Is this supposed to be an inherited thing (ie. his "gift?"), or is it a tradition? Where does one get those tattoos at? Look forward to reading more.

eta: most of the grammatical problems other people already identified - didn't feel the need to go over them again. *nodnod*

[Sekot]

Thanks for your compliments and criticisms. The first post is more like a prologue. The story actually starts with the second. So while it may be contrived, I don't have any other way to start the story. I don't actually plan what I write and it just opens up in real time. But one thing you'll notice with my writing is that I always raise questions that usually get answered later on in the story. So while Malik's introduction may seem a bit random, it will have a point. And you'll learn more about Jeremy and his necromancy.

Edit: And I do seem to have issues with sticking to one tense. Why, I don't know.

[Sekot]

Before he could ask what the other wanted, the corpse stepped forward through the crowd of living dead. It only came to a stop once it was directly before Luke's face. He stared into its empty sockets, feeling the eyes that were not there bore into his own. Resolute, he attempted to stand before his adversary without trembling. "Your will is....strong. Good enough."

The abomination lifted a hand and placed it on the back of Luke's head. It pulled him in close. Revolted, Luke's immediate reaction was to try and back away, but the other's grip was too strong. Their foreheads met, Luke's warm flesh against the zombie's cold bone. There was a brief pause and then a sudden transfer of power. Pain erupted behind Luke's eyes as the world around him exploded in color and sound.

His scenery changed, his vision blacked out and came back in out of focus. He felt like he was spinning around and around. But it immediately stopped and Luke found that his eyes had closed somewhere within that mess. He found himself within a murky world of distorted colors and shapes. People moved like clouds of smoke about him. "Where am I?" he croaked, his throat sore.

"Be quiet and listen," a voice commanded at his side.

He turned suddenly, surprised at not having felt the presence of another. A figure cloaked, but very much a solid mass, stood next to him with face shrouded. The figure made a slight nod of his head, a gesture for Luke to pay attention. Slowly he turned his head to do so, his eyes only leaving the stranger at the last minute.

When he caught sight of what the stranger wanted him to see, his eyes bulged and his body went rigid. Through the crowd of people came a throng of pale humans wobbling on thin legs and dressed in tattered rags. Their eyes stared forward, their faces were slack and emotionless. Lucas recognized them as undead immediately, but none of the others seemed to notice. They allowed the undead to move about them unhindered. "What's going on? Where are we?" Luke asked hurriedly.

"We are in the past. During a period where those like you were not uncommon," the stranger answered, bored.

Suddenly there were screams. People began to break into a sprint, scattering like cockroaches. The sky above churned and broiled, lightning flashed and rain began to pour in sheets. The wind picked up and tore through the streets, around the pair that were unaffected by it all. As those citizens in the circle ran, there came a brilliant flash and then an explosion. The scene faded and Luke and his companion drifted away. “Wait! What was that? What happened!?”

A new scene coalesced before Lucas’ question could be answered. He now stood upon a ledge that looked out over a vast valley. In the far distance he could see a castle that dominated the landscape. Spires rose up to touch the sky, spires that let loose flames and smoke. Luke watched as something rose up around like ropes. They spun around the spires and then began to tear them down. The castle crumbled beneath objects Luke could not discern from the distance he was at.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He spun around to see the shrouded figure standing on a ledge slightly below his own. The figure stood, a staff firmly planted in the ground. He raised his arms to shoulder height, his fingers splayed wide. He threw back his head, the hood falling away to reveal a face that had seen many passing of the years. His mouth opened and out came an inhuman sound that was part scream, part chant. His cloak whipped about him like a ravaging monster. Confused, Luke could do nothing more than watch as the old man continued his spell. It was foreign to Luke’s ears; his mind could not begin to comprehend the sheer power that was being put forth into this spell.

From the earth, beneath the canyon wall Luke stood upon, rose mounds upon mounds of dirt. The sky above broiled and twisted, distorted and broken. Images flickered in and out of view around Luke and everywhere else. Below, hands reached out of those mounds and then came heads, followed by bodies. Monsters of all shapes and sizes rose from the ground to tread once more upon the surface. Banshees and Wraiths floated down the wall effortlessly to join their more corporeal companions. As one mass they marched in unison towards the crumbling city.

Luke watched in awe of the old man who commanded so many to rise. How much more power did this man have? “This is just the beginning of the story,” a voice whispered within his skull. It echoed and vibrated violently, shaking him physically. “He is not alone.”

Luke turned his head to the side and sure enough there were other people clad in black, striking the same pose as the old man. Mobs of walking dead rose until the valley floor was covered with a writhing mass of decaying bodies. “So began a war that would forever be stricken from the annals of history. A war forgotten until now.”

[Sekot]

The word changed about him again, evaporating and twisting in a brilliant array of colors. Luc was thrown out of the changing environment violently and unexpectedly. He tumbled across the ground, a cloud of dust kicked up about him. Shakily he raised himself up on his arms, looking about for any clue as to where he was now. The environment was still the same muddled color it was before, a sign that he wasn’t out of this yet.

A black cloud coalesced beside him. The old man shrouded in black robes stepped forward slowly, paying no attention to the other on the ground next to him. The man’s eyes were transfixed straight ahead, his jaw set. Lucas turned to follow his gaze and witnessed another cloud appearing out of the shroud. It became a woman, tall and regal in appearance. She wore vibrant green robes that contrasted sharply with the surroundings. She almost appeared to give off a soft light, her robes shimmered as she too stepped forward. “What is the meaning of this!?” the old man shouted at her, his teeth bared and his eyes wild with fury.

“It is time we took care of you once and for all,” the woman responded calmly, her hands clasped together before her breasts. She visibly looked down her slender nose at the man before her.

“You have disrupted the balance!”

“The balance will be righted. We have decided that we can no longer allow your sect to continue your heinous actions.”

The old man let out a cry of rage and then followed it up with an unintelligible word. Lucas watched as the woman merely stood there, unaffected by whatever it was that the old man had said. Slowly he rose from the dirt, afraid of what to expect from this unidentified female. She unclasped her hands and let them fall lazily to her sides. She raised her chin, a cold smile spreading across her pale face. The attack was fast, almost unseen. The old man twitched, Lucas’ eyes widened.

A second before the woman had stood before both of them. She now was several paces behind. She turned on the balls of her feet, appearing to float above the ground. Lucas looked at the old man whose feet dangled several feet off the ground. Some kind of large thorn had pierced his chest and exited out of his back, straight through his heart. She laughed, the sound sending a chill down Luc’s spine. “Your little rebellion is finished. The Life Givers have won and will decide where this world shall run in the future.”

The old man coughed, blood escaped from his mouth and splattered onto the ground below. He smiled, blood pouring out from between his teeth. “You and your kind are overconfident fools,” he muttered, just barely audible.

The woman walked up next to him and patted his leg patronizingly. “There there, hush now. Take solace in the fact that you weren’t the first to die, but one of the last.”

“With me Death shall die as well. What you have done is something that is unforgiveable.”

“We are capable of fulfilling your role without your kind. Death no longer means the end, and the people shall rejoice for it. What we promise is freedom.”

“What you promise is slavery!” the old man responded. “I…I will not…”

“You will not what? There isn’t much you can do from the position you’re in, Norak.”

She turned her back on him and began to walk away. Norak watched her go, his eyes still brimming with hatred. “A curse upon you, the curutokanui shall forever haunt you. The Abomination shall never rest until vengeance is brought and the correct balance is restored.”

The woman laughed and then disappeared into the mist. The old man let out a heavy sigh and then bowed his head. Lucas braced himself for another change in scenery, but nothing happened. “Hello?!” he cried out.

No one answered. Confused, he took several steps to stand beneath the one named Norak. He looked up into the face of the old man that had brought him here in the first place. “What is going on…” he muttered.

Three black clouds appeared from the mist. All wore identical robes of ebony. The tallest of the three waved his hand, the branches that kept Norak above the ground, that had killed him, rotted away and the old man dropped to his knees in a pool of his own blood. The three surrounded him, bowing their heads in silent reverence.

Without warning, the three suddenly toppled over like felled trees. Lucas let out a cry of alarm, startled back several steps. An immense power seemed to suddenly wash over his body, stealing the warmth from him and almost the very life of his soul. He clutched his chest, finding it difficult to breathe. Slowly the old man rose to his full height, his robes swirling about in a wind that came from all directions at once.

The flesh upon Norak’s face fell apart, revealing white bone underneath. His eyes escaped from his skull, exploding before they even hit the ground in a purple flash. The robe tore itself to shreds, revealing more bone and tattered flesh. The three newly arrived individuals wasted away into dust, their souls fed to their leader. “He was given one last chance,” the mysterious voice from before said within Luc’s mind.

“One last task was to be performed before he was sealed away for an eternity.”

The once alive Norak’s mouth clattered, creating words Lucas could not hear. The air seemed to freeze instantly, the earth beneath his feet burned and all that was alive within a several yard radius immediately died. And then Norak collapsed next to his fallen brothers. Lucas too felt his consciousness slip, the last view he had before his eyes closed was a world sped up around him, the image of a new mausoleum standing upon that very spot burning itself into his memory.

[Sekot]

Luc awoke, his eyes staring straight up at the ceiling. Grey light spilled about him. He raised a hand to cover his eyes and rub his temples. His head shook and his ears rang. ”You’re awake.”

Luc pushed off the ground and spun in mid air to land on his hands and feet, his pounding head temporarily forgotten. From his vantage point all he could see were fleshy, rotting feet and bones. Realization came to him, first by noticing that the world was now defined, that those others before him were solid constructs of reality. Slowly he raised his head until he looked directly into the eyes of the skull looking down at him. “Norak?” Lucas asked.

Even though the skull had no lips upon his face, Luc got a feeling, a rather disturbing feeling, that the other was smiling back at him. “You just witnessed….a Kiss of Death. It is how we transfer our …..memories, all of our studies,….. to those under us.[/b]”

“So what I saw…”

“Was my past….it was the war that…..destroyed us all. Now you shall take my….mantle and claim your….place as the vanguard of our…vengeance against those who….wronged us and disrupted….the balance of our world.”

“And how shall I do that?” Luc asked, rising from his position on the ground, bowing his head slightly in subservience to the skeleton before him. It was almost comical, Luc being a strong, tall figure compared to the meager, bowed skeleton. But the power that emanated from Norak was blistering and Luc dared not stare him in the face any longer.

“First, you must resurrect the……curse that was placed upon the….Life Givers. Search your….mind and you shall find the memories…..required.”

As if on cue, an image flooded Lucas’ mind and without fully understanding how, he comprehended just what the other demanded of him. Turning his back on his new found teacher, his eyes scanned the downturned faces of the mute, animated corpses about him. The power he required began to once more flow through his system, his eyelids fluttered in ecstasy. He raised his hands, his fingers splayed wide. The tattoos upon his flesh seared and darkened, swallowing the light until he was but a void. The corpses in front of him began to twitch and spasm, their mouths agape in silent screams of agony. Lucas ripped them apart through sheer mental force, the bones and twisted flesh began to spin about him like a tornado. “Breathe in the stench of their rot.”

Luc took in a deep breath, the tepid stench searing his nostrils. But instead of reeling, he accepted the smell and pulled in another deep breath. It was almost euphoric, shifting his mind into overdrive. His muscles throbbed, his teeth were held tight against one another. His hands and fingers then began to weave in intricate patterns, his tongue clacking inside his mouth to form incoherent sounds. The bones began to leave the twisting vortex and took shape.

And then it was complete. Luc lowered his arms, allowing the power to transfer to his surroundings, sending a powerful discharge in every direction. His eyes widened when he finally beheld what it was that he had created. It was tall, monstrous at eight feet. Upon two legs it stood, the torso dwarfed in comparison to the rest of the body. The head sat upon a lengthy neck, the skull large and slender, almost serpentine in appearance. The jaw opened and closed, a dull clack filling the room. Slowly its four arms spun around its body, held in place through sheer telekinetic power. Twin tails swished through the air, a bony blade on the tips. “It is the Abomination. A fairy tale….long forgotten by those newly born. The mind is…however poorly developed. We shall…work on that….But first…we must find a body….”

Luc pulled his attention away from the supposed Abomination and looked at Norak with a quizzical look. “What do we need a body for?”

“This will not support me for long….. you have awoken me at a crucial moment. Much later and I would…..have been dust. Now my brothers sacrifices shall….not be made in vain. Unfortunately I cannot leave at this…..time. So go forth and find me a suitable body….and do not dawdle. My eyes are….everywhere. I shall know….everything that you do.”

Lucas nodded slowly, not doubting for a moment that this one spoke the truth. The memories he gained more than assured him. Quickly he gathered his clothes and departed from the mausoleum. He turned back before he left the cemetery entirely, the broken tomb lay open to the world above. A darkness seemed to descend about it, about the entire cemetery. Lucas quickly departed, not turning back again.

[Arlyan]

more!

[Sekot]

Lucas stood silently, his hands deep in the pockets of his three quarter length black jacket. The collar was at his cheek, protecting his lower face from the biting wind. His black bangs fluttered before his eyes, tickling his temples. He paid little attention to them, instead his gaze focused on the house he now stood before. The two companions that stood on either side of him moved restlessly, they too dressed entirely in black. Unlike him, they wore masks that covered their faces and hats that covered their heads.

Lucas envied them, sort of. His face was indeed quite cold, but the effect his tattoos had on the general public was amusing enough and he could accept this cold, for it was nothing compared to what it could be. He smirked, thinking of those people who he passed on the streets, bundled against the winter air. It was sad, all of it was. So used to readily available warmth, to the imbalances of the life they indulged in.

But alas, such thoughts were pointless. They would get him nowhere. So he pushed them aside, and focused on the house once more, on the front door. Silently he willed it to open, willed the one who lived inside to finally take notice and see what was going on.

There was a brief flash of movement, no sound. One companion dropped to the cold ground, the other moving swiftly to stand in between Lucas and the house. And then he too dropped, leaving Lucas alone on the sidewalk. Lucas refused to flinch, kept his cool. He stood with the same posture, the same stoic expression on his face, not even bothering to look down at the fallen at his feet.

The door to the house opened and a woman stepped out. She stormed up to Lucas, a small silenced pistol in her hand. “You always were good with a weapon,” Lucas greeted her when she finally stopped arm’s length away.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Lucas looked upon her and knew that many found her attractive. Her auburn hair was quite long, her form slender and her face teetering on gorgeous. He smiled, “What, no bullet for me?”

In a moment, without any warning, she raised her gun and fired it. Again Lucas did not flinch as the bullet stopped in midair right before his nose. It dropped to the ground, clinking against the concrete. “Wards,” she spat.

Before she could make a move, Lucas’ hand shot out of his pocket and grabbed the gun, the energy absorbed from the bullet transferred to his fingers. The metal bent and nearly snapped between his fingers, rendered useless. There was a brief register of surprise on the woman’s face before she collected herself. She let go of her gun and took a step back. “Clever trick,” she said, cautious.

“I’ve learned many since we last talked,” Lucas said, bemused by the exchange.

He arched an eyebrow at her, “Should we go inside?”

“What about your friends? Just going to leave them out here to rot?” she said, gesturing to the two she had shot down so efficiently.

There was a pass of air across Lucas’ thin lips, a command that was more thought than spoken, a mere twitch of the tongue. The two shrouded figures twitched and spasmed once and then slowly rose to their full height. They bent forward mechanically to pick up their masks and hats that had fallen off of them. No blood dripped from their wounds, no blood stained the sidewalk they had fallen on. The woman’s eyes widened as she looked upon their faces and then at Lucas, no longer able to hide her shock. Lucas’ mouth split into a wide smile, “Come, we have much to catch up on.”

He passed her, placing a hand on her shoulder and forcefully turning her as he did so. Together they walked into the house, the two figures entering with them but stopping just after the doorway. Lucas removed his coat and handed it to one of them who obediently took it. The woman, recovered from her momentary lapse, moved into the adjoining room and slumped into the closest chair, covering her head with her hands.

Lucas followed her and stood behind her chair, leaning so that his arms rested on the back of the chair and his chin on his arms. “Surprised, Morgan?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands. With a heavy sigh she lowered them, but did not look up. “So that explains the tattoos, the cliché attire.”

“What cliché attire? Maybe I just like black?” Lucas said, pushing himself away from the chair and moving to seat himself in the couch next to her.

“I never understood why they couldn’t just wear white.”

“We follow the nature of the magic we wield, much like how the Life Givers wear primarily green.”

She turned her head, fixating her emerald eyes on him, “So you’ve done it, tasted the forbidden fruit.”

Lucas met her gaze and smiled, “I guess I have.”

“What have you done?” she asked, her voice full of venom. “Why did you come here?”

“You possess something I, we, need,” Lucas answered, his smile fading.

“We?”

“I’ve found someone, someone who can help me achieve my goal.”

“And just what is your goal?”

“To bring balance back to our world, to bring an end to the tyrannical, masochistic rule of the Life Givers. You’ve seen it all, you’ve heard me explain it to you before. I don’t think it bears repeating.”

“No, no it doesn’t,” Morgan agreed with another sigh. “And what makes you think I’ll join you in this quest of yours, you and your new friend?”

“Because, like me, you’re tired of hiding who you really are. You’re tired of being hunted.”

Her eyes flashed with anger as she leaned back in her chair. “What makes you think I haven’t grown content with my place in life?”

“By virtue of the fact that you’ve asked that question, it tells me that you aren’t.”

There was a moment of silence as the two stared each other down, not a sound was made. “You’re right, I’m not happy. But I’m not stupid either, I’m not going to risk my life for your crazy scheme. I’ve thought it over and I’m going to reject it, just like the last time you asked.”

“But as you just saw outside, I’ve learned quite a bit. I’ve got a very powerful ally, I know what I’m doing, and we have a plan in place that will produce some very nice results. But we need you for this to work.”

“No,” Morgan said, rising from the chair.

Rage built up within Lucas’ heart, his eyes flashed briefly. “Shinosura,” he said flatly.

Morgan stopped midstride to the kitchen. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Her body began to twitch and jerk, slowly losing its outline. She began to shimmer, dance in the light from the window. Her form took on a less corporeal one; her hair flowed wildly about her. Her head turned almost completely around to look at Lucas, her eyes now glowed a soft green. In that gaze, Lucas read fury. He waved his finger, the curse lifted. With a flash Morgan returned to her human form, collapsing to her knees. “You…Fuck!” she screamed, clutching her throat with one hand, trying to steady herself with the other.

“I see that the Banshee is still in there.”

She turned her head just enough to gaze upon Lucas with just one eye, “How dare you.”

Any other human would have shook at the icy tone, the power that it held with it. “Come, Morgan. You have spent far too long in that physical form. Come with me and much mischief shall be had.”

“You think I’m going to follow you after that?!” she screamed, her voice taking on an eerie echo.

“Yes,” Lucas said, matter of factly.

Morgan leaped to her feet, spinning to face the young necromancer as she did so. She cried out, her voice taking the warmth from the room. Lucas braced himself, his fingers twitching at the ready. Morgan spoke fast, a string of curses was brought to bear on Lucas in an instant. He was prepared, wards had been readied. Grey whisps of light escaped her oustretched fingers, slowly dancing through the air, grasping for Lucas’ throat. The two undead at the door moved swiftly into the room, taking up position between the Banshee and the necromancer.

They took on every curse. The grey tendrils were redirected into them and they burst into grey flame. They crumpled immediately to the floor. Morgan, her body shimmering as she attempted to stay in her physical shape, glared at Lucas. Her eyes burned a green fire. Lucas moved swiftly across the space between them, grasping her by the throat before she could cast anymore spells. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling the coldness of the ghost within. Their lips almost met, the magic was enacted.

In the blink of an eye, the story given to him was relayed to her. They parted, Morgan’s rage quickly dissipating. The two now stood, their chests heaving, adrenaline pumping through Lucas’ body. “You weren’t…kidding,” she said, a hint of awe in her voice.

“We can do this, with your help,” Lucas said, taking a step back.

There was another flicker of anger across her face, but she soon relaxed. She straightened, her face now grim. “It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice either way.”

Lucas broke into a smile, nodding to her. “So you noticed?”

“How could I not?”

Lucas hadn’t been entirely idle during his time outside the house. He had set up a curse, a painstakingly long incantation. He could enact it at any moment, should he so choose, and send the house, and her with it, to the darkest levels of the forsaken land of the undead. She wouldn’t have survived long. “I’ll do it, if for no better reason than to meet this mysterious man you’ve so quickly thrown yourself next to.”

“Then we have a deal.”

[Sekot]

The street was dead. Hardly a soul dared to cross its path. The back alleys, however, were alive with all things creepy and crawling including many a beggar or sleeping drunk. Doors were locked and windows were boarded. The streetlamps were covered in dust and let off only a small amount of orange light. Shadows danced as if they were alive, fires flickering in and out as Lucas passed the alleys.

He was dressed in a black cloak complete with hood that shrouded his face from view. This far into the Underground, it didn’t matter what he wore. No Life Giver or police officer ever traveled down here. It was lawless. It was where the old and the lame were sent to rot. But of course no one ever truly died in the world above, nor did they in the world below. So the Underground constantly smelled of decay and sin. Lucas’ nose, already acquired the scent, did not crinkle against the stench. Morgan, on the other hand, had placed a blood red scarf over her mouth and nose in a desperate attempt to filter it all out.

The pair walked up the street, between the run down shacks and abandoned buildings, without fear. There was an air about Lucas that all who saw him recognized. The shadows seemed to leap at his feet, meld with him, and then fall back as if bitten. There was an absence in the air that he passed through, a deep cold that threatened to steal the soul. In turn, Lucas ignored the beggars and brutes and thugs. They, being alive, were of no use to him. He already knew where he needed to go.

Indeed, it was not long before the pair came to a certain house that looked like all the others. Morgan cautiously moved past Lucas and tapped three times on the door with her index finger. The sound was repeated from within, and Morgan took a step back. The old, wooden door slowly creaked open to reveal an interior that resembled the exterior, abandoned and broken and covered in dust. The pair stepped inside, the door closing behind them. “Where is he?” Lucas asked wasting no time with small talk.

“This way,” the old crone who had answered the door responded, turning to lead them down a flight of stairs into the basement.

The basement was unlit, but the crone led them expertly. Lucas quickly placed a spell of sight on his vision, his eyes suddenly focused and able to see through the impenetrable darkness. The old woman, bent with age, appeared blood red in his view, a sign that she was alive, that blood pumped through her veins. Lucas turned his head to look back at Morgan, her form was white and stood out against the background.

They were walking for several minutes, having left the basement behind and entered a complex series of underground tunnels. The old woman stopped once they had reached what appeared to be a dead end. She muttered something under her breath and the stone wall shimmered and fell, revealing an entrance to another building, this one well lit. Lucas’ eyes screamed in pain as he quickly cast aside the spell, turning his face away and bringing his hood down slightly.

A chuckle passed by the old crone’s dried and cracked lips. Anger flashed briefly through Lucas as he made a mental note to end the woman’s life after this was said and done. Ignoring the burning sensation as he turned his head back around, he entered the room with Morgan in tow. Inside were three men, covered in dirt and blood. They were manual laborers, they were huge compared to many others who walked above. “You’ve come for him?” the largest of them asked, his arms crossed over his barrel chest.

Lucas nodded, “We’ve come to take him off your hands.”

“Good, the little bastard has already killed three of my men. Possessed he is.”

“You have no idea,” Morgan said dryly, low enough so that only Lucas could hear her.

Ignoring the banshee, the necromancer motioned for the men to lead the way. With a massive sigh, the leader rose from his wooden stool and, grabbing his hatchet, led them to the adjoining room. The moment they entered, Lucas was assaulted with the stench of death and actual post mortem rot. The room was not as well lit, but he could clearly see three bodies still lying on the floor, long since murdered. The blood had already dried, leaving black crusty pools all over the floor. Body parts were scattered everywhere. Most of them, though, were collected in one corner of the room. In this corner was also a young man sitting in the fetal position, arms curled around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

The head slightly rose when they entered, a soft laugh almost like a wheeze greeted them. The three who had guarded the room spread out, their hands grasping their makeshift tools in case the man got loose. Lucas could only smile, their weapons were terribly ineffective, as their companions had discovered the hard way. “Cameron?” Lucas called, stepping forward and pulling back his hood.

The prisoner’s head shot up, eyes wide. Lucas crouched so that they were closer to eye level, the necromancer looking directly into Cameron’s eyes. The prisoner’s head twitched violently and then rested, tilted to the left. A wide smile broke across his face, his yellow teeth bared in a wicked grin. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice cheerful, but holding with it an ominous echo.

“I am Lucas, and I have come to free you.”

“Free him!” one of the men cried out. “We were told you had come to kill him!”

Lucas raised his hand, his forefinger pressed against his thumb. The man instantly shut up, his jaw biting down unwillingly. Cameron laughed and clapped his hands gleefully at the sight. He recognized magic use, that was a good sign, he wasn’t totally lost. Morgan swiftly moved to Lucas’ side. “He seems a bit…unstable doesn’t he?” she whispered in the Ghost Tongue.

“Nothing we can’t work with,” Lucas responded in the same language.

“No one likes secrets, secrets are bad!” Cameron cried out in the same language.

Lucas’ eyebrows shot up at hearing the other speak in the language of the dead. “Powerful indeed,” Lucas muttered.

He nodded at Morgan. The banshee unhooked the pack that she had been carrying and swiftly pulled it around. After a few seconds of digging, she pulled out a small black orb no larger than a tennis ball. Its smooth surface shone briefly and then darkened. A face swirled into view, a face lacking flesh. “My Lord,” Lucas spoke, his gaze never breaking from the prisoner’s, “It is everything we hoped for and more.”

”Bring…him to…me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The orb returned to its original color as Morgan dropped it back into the bag. “Free him,” Lucas ordered, rising to his full height.

The three men looked like they were going to protest, but a quick glance from Lucas silenced them. Morgan moved swiftly, small knives flickered briefly in her hands as he moved behind Cameron and cut through the ropes that bound him.

Then the prisoner exploded into motion. Morgan lost her corporeal form as she was kicked back into the wall, a brief cry of alarm the only warning. The young man moved far faster than any normal human, faster than the three guardians could cope to comprehend. They dropped one by one, their necks crushed. Lucas caught sight of the assailant, but was unable to react quickly enough to avoid Cameron picking him up by the throat and slamming him into a wall.

The man’s finger’s twitched and suddenly a broken bone was in his hand and pressed against Lucas’ neck. He wore the same grin, his eyes wide with malicious delight. “Hee hee hee, I got you!” he cried.

“Put me down,” Lucas said, attempting to muster a sense of command into his voice.

The former prisoner’s grip tightened around the necromancer’s throat. “Why did you free me?”

“We recognized…your power. You have gone many years without notice from…above. We know what you are, and we can help you.”

The grin faded and the grip relaxed itself slightly. Cameron frowned, “What I am? What the voices are?”

Lucas hid his shock. There shouldn’t be multiple voices. “You, Cameron, are a Reaper. You have been since birth. Normally, you would have been murdered by the Life Givers before you reached your first month. But you…you are lucky, you are different. You are powerful. We can help you stop the voices, harness them and use them. We know what you are and instead of killing you, we will work with you.”

“Okay!” Cameron said, dropping Lucas unceremoniously, his smile returned.

Lucas coughed and grasped his throat, anger boiling within but quickly calmed. It would take a lot of work, but he would have Cameron serve him. This was but a necessary humiliation. Lucas’ eyes met Morgan’s, his conveying his hatred clearly enough. She hid her smile behind a gloved hand, clear to him that she had thoroughly enjoyed the encounter. “Can I eat?”

“Sure,” Lucas said absentmindedly as he stood and brushed off his clothing. Cameron gleefully clapped his hands and then turned on the fresh corpses, his fingers grasping at appendages, his mouth biting into them with the force of a hyena. Lucas sighed and shook his head, a lot of work indeed.”Hurry up, we must leave quickly. These deaths will not go unnoticed.”

Ten minutes later the trio stepped out of the abandoned house and onto the same dusty street they had come in on. The old woman came out of the house directly behind them, her feet shuffling, her mouth slack, her eyes lifeless. She wandered off into the nearest alley, a shout the only sound following. Lucas ignored it, as did many others. There were always shouts in the Underground.

[J.O.N ((Dragonwing))]

Interesting, it's like a reverse horror, I like it. I hope to see more.

[Sekot]

The cell was tiny, barely ten feet by ten. And there wasn’t much to look at except the ceiling. Kerone let out a heavy sigh, his emerald eyes half closed as he lay on his back staring upwards. It was quiet, so very quiet within his white cage. He lay dressed in white, his unexposed body parts standing out starkly. His fiery hair lay about his head like rays of light from a star. The date had been set, he regretted nothing. His chapped lips split into an amused smirk. The Conclave, for all their power, was weaker than ever before.

The former Life Giver had heard the voices, had heard one voice in particular. He had listened to the heralded doom of his kind, and he had put forth the effort to bring about its destruction. For his crime, his life was now forfeit. But that was to be expected, and the death that was promised him did not cause fear. Kerone fully closed his eyes, slowly drifting to sleep, the last words from the harbinger still ringing in his skull.

”Soon you will be free of your constraints. Patience. Your reward is coming.”

* * * * *

Lucas Caravnian lay awake in his bed, light just beginning to peak in through the partially closed curtains. Jeremy snorted in his sleep, softly rubbing his head against Lucas’ chest. Looking down upon his sleeping friend, Luke let out a rare, genuine smile. His hand came up and his fingers danced through Jeremy’s fine brown hair. They traced lines down his neck and his back and shoulder. Jeremy’s breathing changed subtly, alerting Luke that he was awake. “Mmm feels good,” Jeremy mumbled, his eyes still shut.

Lucas smiled and allowed his hand to come to rest on Jeremy’s shoulder. “That’s good.”

Jeremy opened his eyes, squinting against the sudden rush of light. His mouth opened in a yawn as he gently squeezed Lucas’ torso. “Good morning,” he said, rising on one elbow and gently kissing Lucas’ cheek.

“Morning,” Lucas said, smiling down into the eyes of his lover.

“Can’t remember the last time I spent a whole night at your place,” Jeremy said with a smile, his eyes betraying the sheer joy he felt at the thought.

That joy found its way into Lucas’ core, and it hurt him. He felt like his chest had just been punched. Though his carefully constructed mask revealed nothing but warmth and happiness to the other. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

“I could tell,” Jeremy said, his fingers now tracing Lucas’ tattoos.

Lucas’ phone began to vibrate on the nightstand next to the bed. Sighing, and ignoring Jeremy’s protests, he picked up the phone. The Caller ID was a number he recognized quite well. He jumped out of bed, ignoring modesty, as he quickly left the bedroom. He went to the one corner in his apartment that was farthest away from Jeremy and answered the phone. “What?”

The voice on the other line came back in a gurgle, a tongue that clicked and snapped, but it still held a breath behind it. It wasn’t a zombie. “Our Lord wants to see you within two hours.”

“Why?” Lucas whispered in the same tongue. “I’m busy.”

“You will come in two hours.”

The line went dead. Lucas cursed as he too ended the call. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the glass window he stood in front of. Opening his eyes, he looked outside to the city. He could look down upon the street so far away, at the little dots that were people and blocks that were cars. “Who was it?” Jeremy asked, coming up behind Lucas and wrapping his arms around Lucas’ chest.

“Work,” Lucas said shortly. He craned his head around and gave one kiss to Jeremy before turning and pulling out of the embrace. “I have to go.”

“Now?!” Jeremy asked. “Come on! You said today was going to be free.”

“Gather your stuff and leave, I don’t have time for this,” Lucas said, hardening his heart against the words that Jeremy threw like spears. “I don’t have a choice.”

Jeremy, with a hurt look on his face gathered his belongings and disappeared, leaving Lucas lone in his apartment once again. “Fuck you,” Luke said, aimed at no one in particular.