I Necromantic She to Schizo
“Death is such a beautiful thing isn’t it?”
“You’re a visionary.” I say.
“Necromancer; Thank you and nothing but.”
He reaches over and the bones clasp around my neck, the putrid stench alone from it is enough for me to gag before I am used to it again. There is no warmth or cold in that hand, just feeling death and sweetness. I look around the room, taking in the changes about the place. The imposing stone crypt is all around me and I am under one of the skylights, open. I could see the stars and I know that I saw a smile in them. The usually comforting feel of the tomb was gone without any of the corpses out. It is bare aside from moonlight and us for the moment. “No lesson tonight” he tells me and I question that. My arms hurt from being pinned by the iron bindings on the tablet I’d seen my Master use to show me about the ways of communication and reanimation. Being on the tablet made me think what it might be like for the Learning Ones while I am standing over them on this slab of stone. What heat is left in my body that isn’t leeched from his touch, the tomb itself seems to absorb and give the rest of the stones a dark glow that lets me see but little else.
I had been surprised at him suddenly chaining me to the tablet and I’d had to work to avoid letting the shock get the better of me. Nothing is done without reason in this chamber though explanations much later are the norm. Master walks across this barren stone crypt then looks down on me. The flesh on his left hand has completely decayed. It was the mark of his mastery of a beautiful magic. This dark borne bone white hand reaches for the skylight above me and brings the power down into me. Moonlight pours over him as energy flows over both of us. The skylight has widened because of his manipulations. He tastes the only light he savors now. The only light left in this world that will embrace him. I watch Master do this and wonder just what, what brought this man to this branch of magic; the power of the dead, to create undead, the unity with the life cycle? The pasty skin on his arm look silver in the moonlight was one of his prices. I look to his eyes and pure death looks down at me. The hair is hidden by his mockery of the holy robes, their tainted white making his all the more papable, just a few pale wisps that come to his hollowed eyes. Those few wisps look thin and sick, like any breeze would leave this man bald.
“I’m going to let you up now. Are you ready for what I have to teach you?”
“I am,” I responded, “And did you really need to chain me for tonight ritual Master?”
“Yes, I did. It’s the way its been done for centuries. I release you now for your former life, from everything you were into the world of the dead. There is now nothing the living have that you won’t one day shun. The first night’s sacrifice is the morning’s rays. Now, they will be forbidden to you. I hope you told your sister good-bye.”
Master does as he said he would. My bare feet clap against the stone. Cold is becoming less noticeable. I then stand on the tablet extend my hand to reach beyond the crypt and reach for the night sky and feel the energies fall down on me…
**********************
She lowers her hand from the sky, gazing across the vast expanses of the sea. The darkness of night has taken the green color from it, now it’s no more than a dark mirror that cast no real reflection aside from that of the stars and moon. The stars dance to the silent symphony that only those of the moon and sky can know. They will dance forever and on. There is no solace for her tonight, not here, and if not here, than it’ll be nowhere. Her brother had left and this time she knew it is for good. She’d never see his assuring smile again. He’d left a note saying he is going to live with his Master to become what he knows in his heart he is. Her mired blue eyes would be the only ones to ever remember him now. Her parents knew and had disowned him, had him excommunicated from their church. They refused to be reminded that their son had gone over to the “evil” magics. She knew better. She’d seen him walk through the cemetery to the fresh plots, lay down on the ground and talk to the ground. He’d always tell the elders if they made a mistake and whom they might want to pursue instead. The dead must know more than the living because he always seemed to be right. She knew because she could see it when she had one of her attacks. Her brother was the only one who’d stand by and help her during one of them. Everyone else would be afraid and would let it go on without any regard to her own safety. Her convulsions could kill her and no one cared. They wanted to pretend that anything aside from normal people didn’t exist. Yet, he’d always be there afterwards and tell her she should leave and see what’s out beyond their little village. Her parents just told her she should pray harder and maybe the Gods would lift the curse they’d placed on her. And every time she told them she would, she’d curse them for trapping her here.
Her history lessons came to mind: how magic became forsaken, the usurping of power for “The Good Of All”. That all magics were evil and only sought to drain power from others and things that were in dire of them. That it was used selfishly and with only frivolous thought. To heal someone of anything was to risk the lives of so many to benefit so very few. It risked so very much for so very little reward. The healing arts were to be scorned above all others. “It uses life, waste it away and pulls it without ever returning anything. The priest showed many by forcing those magi, the users, to cast in front of the audience. The displays of power, auras, would drain the plants they placed on the front of the stage. The priest killed the magi there and the plants were restored with their blood. The people cheered and began their hunts. The magi dwindled over time and became extinct. That church became powerful and continued to seek out those with power. The people revered them. She dreaded them finding her, one able to use the currents of the world. It was her illness that they would look for in time.
It has been a sleepless night because she doesn’t want it. To see the dawn, to see beyond it, to gain the knowledge only seeing this, experiencing what it can bring so she can move on. Let the stars have their silent dance and let the moon play its music forever. The wind brings her black waist length hair to dance as well. The sea is crashing mere feet from her now as the drum beat to all the music. It all vanishes the moment the sun rises and brings the dawn unto the world. With the dawn a new page of her life begins. She sighs and reaches again for the stars. She knows her brother is doing the same somewhere and she wants to feel him once more.
“There is nothing that I can’t get by reaching for these.”
**********************
“There is nothing that I can get by reaching for these!”
“You can’t really vent your frustration very well. Besides reaching toward those balls of light in the night sky get you no closer to your goal.”
“Shut up, what the hell do you know?” you snap back.
“How should I know? I’m just your conscious,” the Voice says to you.
“If you’re a part of me, then I’ll just shut you up.”
The Voice just laughs, you can only grind your teeth, you swear that you can see that masked face in the stars above, see the face to this voice. The maddening, toothy grin is watching over you and acting your mother. This is why you’ve retreated to the depths of tombs to hide and learn about things. The Voice is always waiting for you when you return the surface. This may just be the last night you ever hear it. The gravel beneath your feet crunches as you pace under the night sky. You think he’s inside me and determined to take over. I am not going to let that happen. My strength in death magic is key here.
“If you wanted to shut me up, you shouldn’t have lost it.”
“I’m still sane.”
Again, just laughter. “You sane? You’re becoming a Necromancer!” It only gets louder now, “I won’t vanish. I will find you even in the earth young one! Even among the dead, you are marked as mine! They will find you, and only I can stop them.”
You reach up and clench your fist over those smiling stars. The Voice is squelched now. The laughter stops instantly.
“I am sane.” You say to your closed fist.
Your arm stays up, again, reaching for the stars and holding his mouth shut. It’s impossible not to smile now. The mask fades for now and only stars remain. The light begins to break into the sky. You feel the light burn against your flesh and your other senses tell you the Voice is suffering in your grasp.
**********************
She eyes felt heavy now. The sky is getting light, the velvet sliding the sun ever so slowly from its own bed into the coming sky. The sand around her is a cushion fit for a queen. Her long black hair becomes her own blanket over her white clothes. The forth-coming sun promised a new light that she hadn’t seen in months. It is needed to move her thoughts from where they had been. He has heard her prayers she held in her mouth just for him. She reached for the sun as it emerged and closed her hands around it. The warm from the newborn day flooded over her. At long last, she fell asleep there with her fist still clenched, holding that first ray of light.
**********************
I made it back to the tomb before full-light and had burns on my skin for it. My Master would be down already. He must have known this would happen because the lights are closed and there was a balm sitting in what was to be my chamber. It was still simply furnished, but it was up to me to make my own now. Everyone misunderstood the necromancers, chased them away because of the few who took full advantage of the power for selfish reasons. I pick up the history book, our history book, and look through it again. It told me about the various magics, those of communing with the dead, restoring them briefly to life. It also warns of the temptation of using one’s own power to sustain their body as it violates the natural order of existence. I look at my own book with the caption “We are the speakers for the dead”. The dead cannot lie, my Master had begun to study this and I had proven it. I’d seen a crime committed through another’s eyes and tried to set things straight but no one would believe someone showing the signs of necromancy. The draw on my own body manifested early, only the trust I had earned kept the Hunters away for a while. I had called to the victim as soon as I was able and got what I could from them. When I was brought forth because they knew I was a witness and had me under the Truth Spell, the only magic they allowed here, I told them everything, what I had seen and what the victim knew. The perpetrator had been shocked that I could have known so much and ran. The militia found him and took care of it properly. I returned to the victim’s plot and told them what had happened thanks to their help. Relief was the only way I could describe how I felt standing near there. I close the history book and lay down on the cot in the empty stone room. It never takes long to drift away. Then I felt a tingle just as I began true sleep that pulled me away.
I can see those people looking for the Magi. I looked and couldn’t see myself. I could see and hear with nothing else. The fields stretched before me. I realized now that I was in a spell that either hadn’t been there before or had just been triggered by my initation.
***************************************
Been at work on this and figured it was time to share the progress. Lengthen the sister and second first person part. Working on building the history of the place now. Making it more realistic and trying to see just what needs to be added to it at this point. I'm happy with the changes personally and look forward to putting more time into. Also, soon, when I finish it will need to post my script that I've been working on. It's coming along better than I thought but its still a rough style for me to write in. Still, I like this piece a lot and probably one of the longest times I've invested in a piece. It's the reason I made my current icon "Necros F'nig Rock"
“You’re a visionary.” I say.
“Necromancer; Thank you and nothing but.”
He reaches over and the bones clasp around my neck, the putrid stench alone from it is enough for me to gag before I am used to it again. There is no warmth or cold in that hand, just feeling death and sweetness. I look around the room, taking in the changes about the place. The imposing stone crypt is all around me and I am under one of the skylights, open. I could see the stars and I know that I saw a smile in them. The usually comforting feel of the tomb was gone without any of the corpses out. It is bare aside from moonlight and us for the moment. “No lesson tonight” he tells me and I question that. My arms hurt from being pinned by the iron bindings on the tablet I’d seen my Master use to show me about the ways of communication and reanimation. Being on the tablet made me think what it might be like for the Learning Ones while I am standing over them on this slab of stone. What heat is left in my body that isn’t leeched from his touch, the tomb itself seems to absorb and give the rest of the stones a dark glow that lets me see but little else.
I had been surprised at him suddenly chaining me to the tablet and I’d had to work to avoid letting the shock get the better of me. Nothing is done without reason in this chamber though explanations much later are the norm. Master walks across this barren stone crypt then looks down on me. The flesh on his left hand has completely decayed. It was the mark of his mastery of a beautiful magic. This dark borne bone white hand reaches for the skylight above me and brings the power down into me. Moonlight pours over him as energy flows over both of us. The skylight has widened because of his manipulations. He tastes the only light he savors now. The only light left in this world that will embrace him. I watch Master do this and wonder just what, what brought this man to this branch of magic; the power of the dead, to create undead, the unity with the life cycle? The pasty skin on his arm look silver in the moonlight was one of his prices. I look to his eyes and pure death looks down at me. The hair is hidden by his mockery of the holy robes, their tainted white making his all the more papable, just a few pale wisps that come to his hollowed eyes. Those few wisps look thin and sick, like any breeze would leave this man bald.
“I’m going to let you up now. Are you ready for what I have to teach you?”
“I am,” I responded, “And did you really need to chain me for tonight ritual Master?”
“Yes, I did. It’s the way its been done for centuries. I release you now for your former life, from everything you were into the world of the dead. There is now nothing the living have that you won’t one day shun. The first night’s sacrifice is the morning’s rays. Now, they will be forbidden to you. I hope you told your sister good-bye.”
Master does as he said he would. My bare feet clap against the stone. Cold is becoming less noticeable. I then stand on the tablet extend my hand to reach beyond the crypt and reach for the night sky and feel the energies fall down on me…
**********************
She lowers her hand from the sky, gazing across the vast expanses of the sea. The darkness of night has taken the green color from it, now it’s no more than a dark mirror that cast no real reflection aside from that of the stars and moon. The stars dance to the silent symphony that only those of the moon and sky can know. They will dance forever and on. There is no solace for her tonight, not here, and if not here, than it’ll be nowhere. Her brother had left and this time she knew it is for good. She’d never see his assuring smile again. He’d left a note saying he is going to live with his Master to become what he knows in his heart he is. Her mired blue eyes would be the only ones to ever remember him now. Her parents knew and had disowned him, had him excommunicated from their church. They refused to be reminded that their son had gone over to the “evil” magics. She knew better. She’d seen him walk through the cemetery to the fresh plots, lay down on the ground and talk to the ground. He’d always tell the elders if they made a mistake and whom they might want to pursue instead. The dead must know more than the living because he always seemed to be right. She knew because she could see it when she had one of her attacks. Her brother was the only one who’d stand by and help her during one of them. Everyone else would be afraid and would let it go on without any regard to her own safety. Her convulsions could kill her and no one cared. They wanted to pretend that anything aside from normal people didn’t exist. Yet, he’d always be there afterwards and tell her she should leave and see what’s out beyond their little village. Her parents just told her she should pray harder and maybe the Gods would lift the curse they’d placed on her. And every time she told them she would, she’d curse them for trapping her here.
Her history lessons came to mind: how magic became forsaken, the usurping of power for “The Good Of All”. That all magics were evil and only sought to drain power from others and things that were in dire of them. That it was used selfishly and with only frivolous thought. To heal someone of anything was to risk the lives of so many to benefit so very few. It risked so very much for so very little reward. The healing arts were to be scorned above all others. “It uses life, waste it away and pulls it without ever returning anything. The priest showed many by forcing those magi, the users, to cast in front of the audience. The displays of power, auras, would drain the plants they placed on the front of the stage. The priest killed the magi there and the plants were restored with their blood. The people cheered and began their hunts. The magi dwindled over time and became extinct. That church became powerful and continued to seek out those with power. The people revered them. She dreaded them finding her, one able to use the currents of the world. It was her illness that they would look for in time.
It has been a sleepless night because she doesn’t want it. To see the dawn, to see beyond it, to gain the knowledge only seeing this, experiencing what it can bring so she can move on. Let the stars have their silent dance and let the moon play its music forever. The wind brings her black waist length hair to dance as well. The sea is crashing mere feet from her now as the drum beat to all the music. It all vanishes the moment the sun rises and brings the dawn unto the world. With the dawn a new page of her life begins. She sighs and reaches again for the stars. She knows her brother is doing the same somewhere and she wants to feel him once more.
“There is nothing that I can’t get by reaching for these.”
**********************
“There is nothing that I can get by reaching for these!”
“You can’t really vent your frustration very well. Besides reaching toward those balls of light in the night sky get you no closer to your goal.”
“Shut up, what the hell do you know?” you snap back.
“How should I know? I’m just your conscious,” the Voice says to you.
“If you’re a part of me, then I’ll just shut you up.”
The Voice just laughs, you can only grind your teeth, you swear that you can see that masked face in the stars above, see the face to this voice. The maddening, toothy grin is watching over you and acting your mother. This is why you’ve retreated to the depths of tombs to hide and learn about things. The Voice is always waiting for you when you return the surface. This may just be the last night you ever hear it. The gravel beneath your feet crunches as you pace under the night sky. You think he’s inside me and determined to take over. I am not going to let that happen. My strength in death magic is key here.
“If you wanted to shut me up, you shouldn’t have lost it.”
“I’m still sane.”
Again, just laughter. “You sane? You’re becoming a Necromancer!” It only gets louder now, “I won’t vanish. I will find you even in the earth young one! Even among the dead, you are marked as mine! They will find you, and only I can stop them.”
You reach up and clench your fist over those smiling stars. The Voice is squelched now. The laughter stops instantly.
“I am sane.” You say to your closed fist.
Your arm stays up, again, reaching for the stars and holding his mouth shut. It’s impossible not to smile now. The mask fades for now and only stars remain. The light begins to break into the sky. You feel the light burn against your flesh and your other senses tell you the Voice is suffering in your grasp.
**********************
She eyes felt heavy now. The sky is getting light, the velvet sliding the sun ever so slowly from its own bed into the coming sky. The sand around her is a cushion fit for a queen. Her long black hair becomes her own blanket over her white clothes. The forth-coming sun promised a new light that she hadn’t seen in months. It is needed to move her thoughts from where they had been. He has heard her prayers she held in her mouth just for him. She reached for the sun as it emerged and closed her hands around it. The warm from the newborn day flooded over her. At long last, she fell asleep there with her fist still clenched, holding that first ray of light.
**********************
I made it back to the tomb before full-light and had burns on my skin for it. My Master would be down already. He must have known this would happen because the lights are closed and there was a balm sitting in what was to be my chamber. It was still simply furnished, but it was up to me to make my own now. Everyone misunderstood the necromancers, chased them away because of the few who took full advantage of the power for selfish reasons. I pick up the history book, our history book, and look through it again. It told me about the various magics, those of communing with the dead, restoring them briefly to life. It also warns of the temptation of using one’s own power to sustain their body as it violates the natural order of existence. I look at my own book with the caption “We are the speakers for the dead”. The dead cannot lie, my Master had begun to study this and I had proven it. I’d seen a crime committed through another’s eyes and tried to set things straight but no one would believe someone showing the signs of necromancy. The draw on my own body manifested early, only the trust I had earned kept the Hunters away for a while. I had called to the victim as soon as I was able and got what I could from them. When I was brought forth because they knew I was a witness and had me under the Truth Spell, the only magic they allowed here, I told them everything, what I had seen and what the victim knew. The perpetrator had been shocked that I could have known so much and ran. The militia found him and took care of it properly. I returned to the victim’s plot and told them what had happened thanks to their help. Relief was the only way I could describe how I felt standing near there. I close the history book and lay down on the cot in the empty stone room. It never takes long to drift away. Then I felt a tingle just as I began true sleep that pulled me away.
I can see those people looking for the Magi. I looked and couldn’t see myself. I could see and hear with nothing else. The fields stretched before me. I realized now that I was in a spell that either hadn’t been there before or had just been triggered by my initation.
***************************************
Been at work on this and figured it was time to share the progress. Lengthen the sister and second first person part. Working on building the history of the place now. Making it more realistic and trying to see just what needs to be added to it at this point. I'm happy with the changes personally and look forward to putting more time into. Also, soon, when I finish it will need to post my script that I've been working on. It's coming along better than I thought but its still a rough style for me to write in. Still, I like this piece a lot and probably one of the longest times I've invested in a piece. It's the reason I made my current icon "Necros F'nig Rock"