Nine-year-old Ian Kyle is dying. The monster that had just killed his sister turned its wild gaze toward him and roared menacingly, revealing rows of blood-soaked yellow teeth. Its blood-soaked fur glistened in the campfire light as it took one frightening step toward him, then another.
Yes, Ian is dying. The demons know it. He knows it. It was a sure thing…until his brother’s body moved. It wasn’t a natural movement; he jerked upright, as if some deranged puppeteer had taken hold of his limbs and brought him to life. But that’s not the worst of it.
The worst part was that Ian could feel her soul deep within him. It was a creepy, bone-deep presence calling to him. He recognized the remnants of her energy, but what stood behind the blood-soaked beast was “not” his sister. Shivers ran through his body, and he reacted convulsively to the sight of the reanimated corpse, which seemed to be sucking out his emotions.
The huge and strange monster stopped and felt her. Suddenly, it spun and a huge, deadly claw shot out and penetrated her stomach, ripping her lifeless skin and tearing the large wrinkles. There was a disturbing smile on the corpse’s lips, seemingly unaffected by the damage it had inflicted. A low, mocking laugh came out of its lifeless lips, the disturbing sound sending shivers down her spine.
Ian watched with wide eyes as a small corpse knocked the beast backwards, shattering the bark of the tree it collided with. The furry creature let out a scream of pain and surprise, and just when Ian expected the corpse to move slowly like a zombie, the sound suddenly stopped as the corpse rushed towards the fallen monster, squeezing it by the neck with its tiny hands.
It seems absurd that a beast that is hundreds of pounds heavier than its opponent would lose a battle of strength, but that is what it is. The monster struggled under the body, arms flailing, trying to gain the upper hand or inflict enough damage to kill the already dead thing. Ian gets the satisfaction of seeing the monster that killed his sister die.
Instead of her sister’s body shaking with pleasure at the feeling, her fingers tore at the monster’s neck, ripping apart bone and tissue until she finally severed its head. As if a switch had been flipped, the creature stopped moving and lay motionless. Then its furry body began to mutate and move.
Everyone present heard the sound of breaking bones. Where a huge and terrible animal lay a few minutes ago, there now lay the naked, mutilated body of a man, still soaked in blood. The body turned towards Ian, and he could have sworn that, for a second, he recognized his sister in those glowing eyes.
She smiled sadly, and somehow her cold face sparked with life. Her fingers parted as if to bid him a final farewell, when the body fell to the ground and the wires snapped. Ian felt the energy from her…what? Soul? Spirit? Whatever it was, as it left her body, it seemed to fade more and more from his consciousness until it faded away, like a ship passing over the horizon.
Ian fell to his knees, knowing more surely than ever that his sister was gone. He was vaguely aware of a painful scream coming from his right, and reality began to return.
Her parents, who were hesitant and afraid when the monster first attacked her from the shadows and claimed her sister, are now beginning to react. The mother seemed to want to reach out and touch Alice’s body, but what she saw left a mark on her and she took a step back in disgust.
Ian was intrigued to find out that she wasn’t disgusted by his body. In fact, he felt a strange sense of comfort when it validated him. He hated seeing his best friend and closest family member leave, but the last step… at least it felt like he had said goodbye.
His father looked at him with a mix of disbelief and disgust. He knew that whatever happened to his daughter was his son’s fault. Ian didn’t know if he was disappointed that he was alive and his sister was dead, or if he was just a weirdo. To be honest, he didn’t care. He just stared at his sister’s lifeless body until the fire died down and the rescue team came to take her away.
** ** ** **
Frustratingly, the outcome of the attack while a family went camping in the North Cascades was predictable. Looking at the evidence, authorities could not determine what really happened. Ian and his parents acted like they were in shock, both saying they saw some sort of wild animal but they really didn’t remember much else.
That might not be enough on its own, but forensic scientists found something fascinating in the decapitated man’s DNA, and soon the government got involved and everything was covered up. At home, Ian’s parents turned their back on him.
He never found out if they blamed him, were hurt over losing Alice, or were afraid of him. Needless to say, they felt uncomfortable to be around. That was why Ian started going to the public library after school, staying until dinner time, then spending a tense hour with his parents before disappearing into his room.
One afternoon, as he was browsing the abandoned stacks, he noticed a book cover that startled him. It looked like an antique book bound in handmade leather, a little out of place among the modern paperbacks in the science-fiction/fantasy section.
Grabbing the lid, he reached out easily, and he felt a sense of validation and belonging. Looking at the book in his hands, he knew he would read it, without knowing what it was. However, as he approached the front desk, something compelled him to hide the stuff under his arm and keep walking.
When he reached the door of his house he heard his parents shouting again. By the way, when he came in, they stopped immediately and he knew the argument was about him. Sighing, he turned around and went up the stairs to his room. Closing the door, he put the book on the table and turned on the lamp.
As he reached the book, he was startled when the book opened on its own and an impatient male voice growled, “Fuck you finally!”
Ian was surprised, but he wasn’t scared. He thinks that watching his sister get blown to pieces, and then seeing those pieces come to life and unleash monsters straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare, helped him put the audio novels into some perspective.
He began to see a glowing presence around the book and was able to tell when it drew his attention. “So, you’re new flesh,” he said, unimpressed. “You don’t look like a teenager. Have you reached puberty? You’re the Lord of the Dead…”
The ghost paused, looked at him, and then admitted, “At least you’re not the Prince of Darkness like my last client. I swear, if I could find out who started the gothic trend, I would shove my boots down to their level.”
Ian stared at the open book, listening to her outburst and the words that followed. Eventually, not really knowing how to respond to the situation, he simply said: “I’m nine years old – not exactly a teenager.” Ian thought he was surprised and…curious?
“Are you kidding me?” the ghost asked, looking as if the boy had made a smart move that warranted further investigation. “Well, they say the younger you are when your powers awaken, the more potential you have to manifest. I’ve never heard of anyone doing magic before the age of eleven. So, what did you do?”
Ian understands the problem. His reality is badly shaken when the beast steps out of the shadows, but when he feels his sister… he sees her reacting to his emotions, it’s like someone is there when you’re trying to walk across the room and turn on a light and realize you’re not anywhere where you thought you were.
“I brought my sister back-” he stopped before he could say “resurrected”. His sister had never really lived like that.
The spirit yells. “Heavy stuff. Most novices accidentally move an object,” he explains. “Okay, let’s get the obvious out of the way. Congratulations on your Necromancer. I know… What does that mean? There are a lot of different types of wizards out there. Wizards with a mind for magic, wizards who can control the elements, druids who can heal, and work with their green friends – all kinds of people, you know what I mean…”
The spirit sighed, as if remembering something he had explained hundreds of times, and then said: “Your realm of power is the realm of the dead. Although you can use the limited energy in your body to cast spiritual magic, like most other sorcerers with liches, your primary resource is to draw energy from spirits who have not yet traveled, ghosts, and spirits who have used energy to manifest themselves.
After a pause, as if prepared, the ghost told him the bad news, “Since you have almost unlimited resources to consume, and necromancy has a bad reputation, everyone thinks you are a bunch of corpse diggers. So what?
“You mean I don’t have to dig up the body?” Ian said, full of hope.
“Not at all,” Sol said aloud, sounding annoyed. “They nearly always find out themselves.” Ian looked a little pale. “Now,” the learned ghost continued, “necromancers are… destructive. Because they’re in constant contact with the dead—and the dead themselves aren’t so coherent—they tend to go mad.”
“Ah,” the Ghost said, wheeling around, “Because everyone thinks you’re all loose cannons with tremendous power… and they see nothing wrong with eliminating potential threats like you. It’s really just one of those things that all the different communities agree on.
Seeing Ian’s confused look, Sol sighed loudly and told him, “Let me explain it to you. ‘Hate’ is probably not the most appropriate word to describe how other wizards and most supernatural beings feel about you – it doesn’t seem powerful enough… Everyone wants to kill you, and even other necromancers – who have lived so long – are threatened by someone who can take control of their minions.
Just then, he heard his mother shout that dinner was ready. Ian stood up unsteadily and went downstairs to collect his thoughts. What he was told seemed shocking, but he couldn’t believe it. The curtain was drawn, it was just a matter of getting into the details.
In a way, the absence of any conversation at the dinner table helped him organize his thoughts and make a list of priorities. His parents stared at each other and his father looked angry. Ian knew that his future could change. He didn’t know what it was, but since Alice’s death he no longer worried about little things like that. They just didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Back in his room, Ian asked: “Who are you?”
The Spirit God looked surprised. “I think we skipped that step. Usually when customers are intimidated by audiobooks, it’s covered at the beginning…” In response to Ian’s question, he said, “I’m a collection person and you get a power.
A thought flashed through Ian’s mind and he swallowed it nervously and asked. “So, you tell me everyone wants me dead, and now you tell me someone understands me. Can anyone else feel me?”
“Well, yes, but-” He was cut off when Ian raised his hand.
“How do I hide myself?” Ian asked, desperate to protect his family from further harm. He knew he couldn’t fight another wizard or anything else. That experience in the forest had been a fluke, and though he didn’t know why, he felt like it was his sister who used her magic rather than anything he had done. She’s gone now, and no one would come to save him the next time.
The archivist apparently realized the seriousness of the situation, turned the book to the correct page, and said: “Place your hands on either side of the guide and look at the words above.” Ian looked down at the page and saw strange symbols that seemed to be mixed together.
“Don’t try to read it,” the archivist requested. “Imagine what you see in your mind’s eye.” Ian felt his eyes move as he tried to follow her instructions. He didn’t feel anything different.
The archivist said: “Now, consider disguising yourself.” Ian’s eyes widened, and suddenly he felt as if he was experiencing someone else’s memory. “Perform the exercises you’ve learned. Try exercises that blend into the background.”
It took about fifteen minutes, most of which was spent calming his mind. He imagined he was standing in front of a white wall. Slowly, he focused on blending his image into the background until no difference was visible on the canvas. Eventually, the Archivist issued his seal of approval. “You will understand immediately,” he said, surprised. “Another wizard would have to be in the same room with you to notice your presence.”
“These mental exercises only work when I pay attention. I don’t have the discipline to be like this all the time… what happens when I’m sleeping?” Ian complained, frustrated.
The archivist agreed, when he said: “You’re right. But the fact that you want to hide yourself is impressive.”
Ian said while wielding the scissors, “Let’s skip the part where I thought I was invincible and then got ruined. I know I’m at the bottom of the food chain. Now, how can I create a more sustainable solution?”
Archives says: “I don’t know if you can do it at this stage of development. It requires learning a bit about wards, some magic, and how to channel your power into runes.”
Ian knew he didn’t have time. He may be young, but he wasn’t naive enough to think he wasn’t in danger. It was like one of those video games they played. Everyone can kill you at the beginning. The trick is to keep training until you’re strong enough to get out. Only here, he only had one life, so he better make sure he’s ready before revealing himself to anyone.
He turned back to the book on his desk and said, “Please tell me about these steps and we will discuss the ‘why’ later.”
It took him about an hour to mentally prepare and form the symbols correctly. He didn’t know how to summon his power, let alone put it into the mark. Eventually, he managed to visualize what he wanted to do and once he got the right mindset, it was done. No gimmicks, no long winded nonsense. At least, not to the necromancer.
When he first felt the energy build up in his core, he almost threw up. He could tell it was different, but it still reminded him of when he felt his sister. It’s like tasting curdled milk and then feeling sick to your stomach every time you smell it for the rest of your life.
“Look at this!” the archivist yelled. “No, don’t let it go!” At this moment, Ian was thrown back by a blast of green flames, and the green flames began to swallow Sonic himself. Ian hit the wall near the window and his vision blurred. He felt numb… and then everything went dark.
** ** ** **
Two cunning magicians, who have come to town looking for an opportunity to kill the newly awakened magicians and steal their power, look out the car window in confusion. The tall man turned to the short man and whispered: “I can’t feel your presence anymore.”
The short man growled. “It broke suddenly. It seems like it was already broken.” He said disgustedly. He leaned forward and slammed his fist on the dashboard.
The tall man shook his head. “It’s a shame. We’re so happy. They could have made better food.”
“Speak for yourself,” the short man complained. “It sounds dark, maybe a warlock. I hate having anything to do with those devil worshipers. I always want to take a shower afterwards…”
The tall man smiled. “You’re getting weak. So, do you want to try and find the wizard’s killer?”
The short man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I can’t feel anyone. We could search the city for days, only –” He stopped. He turned sharply to the other man and asked, “Can you feel it?”
The tall man nodded, his face twisting into a dangerous smile. “Another place – to the north.” He turned, seized the path they were about to pass, and fired. The hunt begins.
** ** ** **
After a few hours, Ian’s eyes relaxed and he brushed off the blurriness from his eyelids. “Oops, are you okay in there?” a voice full of worry and amazement asked. Ian complained about the stupid questions, stopping himself. He was in a lot of pain, but he didn’t think he was seriously injured.
“Why didn’t I get burned? I’m sure I remember the fire…” Ian asked himself out loud.
The archmage snored. “That’s soul fire, kid. It doesn’t mix well with the living. If you used it on an unprotected wizard, you’d probably kill them. I’m still wondering how you’re still alive. Necromancers can channel those things, but you’re open-minded.
“Why did that happen?” Ian asked himself as he stood up and straightened his chair.
“Because you can’t focus,” the Archetype complained angrily. “I told you to channel the energy into the symbols. You can’t just collect it and release it. It has to go somewhere…”
Ian nodded, then groaned, feeling a pounding headache. He sat back down at his desk and began practicing again, trying to hide himself before gathering energy for a second time. “Hey, wait a minute,” Sol told him, nervously. “You’re not going to try that again, are you?”
Ian continued to answer. The archivist said angrily, “Well, you’ve made up your mind, I’ll give you this. You might live long enough to become a truly valuable person. I’m surprised your parents didn’t check on you. You hit that wall pretty hard…I’m sure it shook the whole house.”
Ian mumbled distractedly. He’s probably playing Russian roulette here, but they won’t care, as long as there’s no chance he’ll put a hole in the wall. With more success, he was able to cast a glowing symbol on the cut-out binder – apparently the energy burned through the paper pretty fast… Once he’d repeated the process twice, he began to keep the spell up, walking around the house before returning to his room to cast the final part of the spell.
Still, the barrier keeping him hidden wouldn’t be as strong or as long-lasting as the more permanent wards he’d use. But after all, it should be good enough until he found a better solution. However, Ian knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon.
The next day, Ian came home from school exhausted and tired. Not only had he barely slept the previous night, but he had to focus on hiding himself all day since the wards he had created only covered his house.
