There are worse things than starving zombies.
Gironde Mehisto was expecting my arrival. How the hell could he not expect me when he was a fucking necromancer?
The iron gates of the cemetery creaked open before me, and I walked with ominously slow steps all the way to the crypt. I entered and he was waiting for me.
"Welcome to my humble home, Shaytan," he bowed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Don't deflect," I demanded. "You know exactly why I am here."
A sly grin spread across the Necromancer's lips. Irritated, I plopped down in the armchair, glancing at him expectantly.
"Well, what would you like to know first?" he asked, his voice light.
"Let's start with the most pressing question," I replied, a little too amused for the gravity of the situation. "Who and why is trying to kill me at all costs? I'm being hunted by a necromancer—probably one of your colleagues."
"What makes you so sure it's not me?" he asked, raising one of his perfect eyebrows.
I couldn't have made an airtight argument to defend the necromancer, but I felt sure that Gironde wasn't the one after me.
"If you had plans for someone, it's not exactly smart to make an attempt on their life," I shrugged.
"You see your situation quite clearly, despite your youth," he said with a nod. "Yes, it wasn't me who tried to kill you."
"Do you know who it was?" I pressed.
"Of course, I know him personally," he said, but the usual cheerfulness was gone from his face. His eyes darkened, and his movements became more measured. "A necromancer who always stood out from the rest."
I raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"He had principles," Giro said thoughtfully, "emotions—things we largely lack. Even after his rebirth, he retained his humanity."
I waited for him to continue.
"You know why emotions die when a necromancer is reborn?" Gironde asked.
I shrugged. "So they don't affect your decisions."
"Exactly," he agreed. "If we had emotions—pity, mercy—we wouldn't be able to do our jobs. We live longer lives than any other creature in this world, and we see so much death. The soul would crumble under the weight of watching those we love perish again and again."
He fell silent for a moment, staring off as if lost in the memory.
"He was different," he finally said, his voice soft. "We didn't notice it at first, but soon it became glaring. He would cry for days, unable to bear the death of anyone he cared about. After a couple of years, he gave up our work and fled to the Mirrorworld. But that only made things worse. He became obsessed with releasing the Wraith, one by one. Maybe it was because the last person he cared about was locked up there."
"And how does that tie into me?" I asked, though I was already dreading the answer.
The necromancer sighed, his eyes hardening. "He knows his fate. He hasn't decided what side he's on yet. It all comes down to you, Shay."
My stomach twisted. "Wait—what?"
Gironde shrugged. "His success depends on which side you take."
Gods, no! Not this! I wanted to scream. The thought of being pulled into another mess, this time with my life hanging in the balance, made my chest tighten. "Can't I just stay out of it?" I asked, but I knew it was a futile request.
"Fate has already noticed you," Gironde said, his voice somber. "The moment you stood up to your father, you became a piece on the board. You're in this now. It's hard to get out."
I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. Couldn't I just ignore all of this? Walk away from it? But I knew better. I couldn't.
Gironde paused, looking at me with an almost unreadable expression. "It's better to fight than to let the world burn, isn't it?"
I had my own opinion on that, but I kept it to myself.
"What do you expect me to do?" I finally asked.
"I don't expect anything from you," he said, shaking his head. "You could do nothing. Live out your life with the people you care about. No one would blame you. Not even me."
I nodded slowly, processing his words. "Then it's settled."
I stood up to leave, but before I could make it to the door, Giro's voice stopped me.
"Good luck," he said quietly.
I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me. As soon as the door clicked shut, I slammed my fist into the nearest wall. My teeth ground together, my jaw clenched so tightly I could feel the strain in my neck. Could Lordling be the necromancer? It made so much sense—he had once said he was from my world but was different from the other Wraiths. Most importantly, it would explain how he managed to pull me into his world, even if only in spirit.
So why couldn't I accept it? Why did it feel so... wrong?
(...)
At home, Alex was waiting by the door, his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face.
"Where have you been?" he demanded, voice thick with frustration.
"I was just chased through town by a couple of undead," I replied flatly.
Alex froze for a moment.
I patted him on the shoulder and then, taking advantage of his shock, ran up the stairs and locked the door to my room. I had something insane in mind—something reckless, futile, and sure to fail—but I wasn't known for abandoning my plans
So, I went to bed and concentrated on Lordling, trying to fall asleep. I suffered for five minutes, but nothing happened. I was just about to give up when darkness suddenly engulfed me.
I flopped onto the bed and tried to focus on Lordling, willing myself to fall asleep. Five minutes of frustration later, I was about to give up, but then, without warning, darkness swallowed me whole.
I found myself standing on a balcony, an odd sensation of having stared too long into the distance weighing on me. The railing before me felt strange, as though it were both solid and ethereal at once. I blinked, clearing the fog from my mind.
"Long time no see," came a voice I knew all too well.
I spun around, my heart pounding. There, standing before me with that sorrowful smile, was Lordling.
"Just answer me one question honestly," I demanded, a surge of defiance rising in me. "Are you responsible for what's happening right now?"
Lordling nodded slowly, and the ground seemed to shift beneath me.
"If I hadn't created the damned regalia, the necromancer wouldn't have made such a mess," he said, his voice grim, yet it gave me new strength.
"Did you get my message?"
I nodded. "You scared the hell out of me."
"I couldn't help it," he muttered, looking frustrated. "The necromancer put a spell on me. It took me a while to undo it," he grumbled.
"What regalia are we talking about?"
Lordling paused, clearly weighing his next words. "Maybe your friends will be interested, and you might want to wake up before the wolf breaks down your door..."
He seemed to make up his mind in that moment. His eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. "I will tell you everything in your world."
My eyes snapped open. It felt like I hadn't slept at all, despite the lingering heaviness in my limbs. I jumped out of bed, creeping cautiously to the door, listening for any sign of Alex. I cracked the door open slowly, just in case he was waiting with a pan in his hands and something other than pancakes in mind.
The coast was clear, but I could hear snippets of conversation coming from the kitchen. I moved quickly, heading down the stairs and towards the room. When I entered, I froze.
Alex stood at the kitchen counter, a tense expression on his face, while Rolo stood beside him, equally on edge. At the table, a figure was seated with a casual air, completely at home in the chaos. The moment I stepped in, his sharp gaze met mine, and that familiar sly grin spread across his lips.
"Well," he said, his voice smooth and almost amused, "now you know my name?"
I barely managed to breathe out the single word.
"Aleshio!"
It was clear from the puzzled expressions on Alex and Rolo's faces that they had no clue what was unfolding.
"But why didn't I recognize you before?" I demanded, my voice a mix of confusion and disbelief. "Your eyes... they're unmistakable!"
Aleshio's grin deepened, the mischievous glint in his eyes growing sharper. "What do you think a little magic is for?" he replied, the words dripping with smug satisfaction.
Aleshio's grin remained, but there was a new intensity in his gaze. "Consider this a lesson, Shay," he said smoothly. "The most formidable mages are those who can alter your perception without you ever being aware of it."
He leaned back in his chair, the air around him charged with a subtle menace. "You see, it's not always about brute strength or flashy spells. Sometimes, it's about slipping under the surface, unnoticed, until it's far too late."
I knew how true this was.
"Who is this mage?" Rolo interjected before I could press Aleshio for more answers.
"Aleshio," I began, wondering how much Rolo was going to kill me after my explanation, "is known as a dark mage with a notorious reputation. He's also the ruler of the Wraiths in the Mirrorworld."
I couldn't decide which revelation would shock Rolo more. His expression shifted rapidly—first anger, then fear, as his eyes flicked between Aleshio and me. One moment, he seemed ready to lash out at me in fury; the next, he looked like he wanted to bolt from the room.
"I hope you have a damn good explanation for this," he finally hissed, though his fists clenched as if he might strangle me at any second.
In fact, I couldn't imagine what kept him from doing it. In any case, I couldn't decide whether he was really mad or just shocked close to madness, but one thing was certain: Rolo was not in his right mind. How could he possibly think that I had a satisfactory explanation for anything in this situation? Even I was in the phase of waiting for answers.
Alex, meanwhile, remained eerily silent, his face blank as if the sheer shock had rendered him catatonic. Aleshio cleared his throat, his calm demeanor only adding to the tension.
"Our situation is quite complicated," Aleshio began gravely. "A necromancer is attempting to merge the Mirrorworld with your world—a cataclysmic experiment destined for failure. If successful, it will lead to the destruction of both worlds. This ritual requires five regalia, artifacts I created and scattered across this dimension. The disturbances in both realms suggest that two of the five have already been found and combined. We must stop him from obtaining the remaining three."
"Why should we believe you?" Rolo spat, his voice brimming with distrust. "I don't trust you."
"You don't need to trust me," Aleshio replied with a shrug, gesturing towards me. "Trust him."
Alex finally snapped out of his stupor, his gaze locking onto mine, piercing and unyielding. "Do you believe him?"
His tone left no room for hesitation. This was a moment where certainty was paramount.
"Yes," I said firmly.
Alex nodded in acknowledgment, but Rolo's face twisted in disbelief, his frustration bubbling over. "You can't be serious! That's all it takes for you?"
The wolf shrugged, his voice calm but resolute. "I didn't smell a lie in the air."
Rolo's face contorted with frustration, but with both Alex and me aligned, he could only stew in his anger, grumbling under his breath as he reluctantly accepted the situation—for now.
"What kind of regalia are we talking about?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Individually, they're simple amulets," Aleshio replied, his tone even. "The first grants control over elementals, the second bestows immense physical strength, the third brings extraordinary luck, the fourth offers protection against any curse or hex, and the fifth can trap the magic of others. But the runes inscribed on their backs are the crucial components of a ritual that can open a doorway between dimensions."
"Well then," I nodded, a wry smile tugging at my lips, "good luck with that. You're going to need it."
For once, I managed to catch Aleshio off guard. His mouth hung open in genuine surprise. "What?"
"I never promised to help you," I said evenly. "I've faced a necromancer before. I know exactly how dangerous they are. Don't expect me to charge headfirst into my death."
"If you do nothing, you'll still die!" he growled, frustration seeping into his voice. That did not seem to be the answer he expected.
"Well," I shrugged nonchalantly, "I'd rather die in front of the TV, watching some brainless show, than be beaten to a pulp."
Rolo's eyes sparkled with approval, while Alex's brow furrowed in silent contemplation, likely still processing the flood of information.
"I thought I could count on you," Aleshio muttered, his voice carrying a slight tremor.
I noticed that his voice was a little shaky. That gave me a good feeling. The uncertainty of another always gives you confidence.
"You should've known you'd need a stronger argument to convince me," I said.
"I have one argument," he snapped, lips parting to elaborate, but he faltered, closing them again. He didn't need to say more; I already knew what he was getting at.
"Alex, Rolo," I began, glancing at them, "could you give us a moment?"
Rolo clearly didn't like the idea, but after some effort, Alex managed to drag him out, despite Rolo's fierce resistance. The kid bit into his hand, looking like he was ready to claw the wolf's eyes out. I felt a twinge of sympathy for Alex—he was in for quite a ride.
"Thank you," Aleshio said once they were gone. I nodded curtly.
"Won't you sit down?" he gestured to a nearby chair. "This is going to take a while."
I sank into the seat, keeping my gaze on him, assessing every flicker of emotion.
"I've taken only three disciples," he began, his tone softer now. "You are the third. The second... well, he's still a renowned mage, known as—"
"The current Sorcerer Lord," I interrupted, my voice steady.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "How did you know?"
I shrugged, a smirk playing at my lips. "Just a lucky guess."
"You know, Livius had a little brother," Aleshio began, his voice distant, as if recalling a half-forgotten tale. "He was a special child, born under auspicious stars, welcomed by the world with open arms. A quick learner, basking in the undivided attention of their parents. Liv hated him for it, but loved him even more because he was the only one who truly cared for him. And then, a catastrophe shattered their world: his brother was murdered."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Do you wonder who did it?" he asked, though my disinterest must have been obvious as I gave a slight shrug.
"Ágota Rosenstein," he revealed.
My eyes widened. The kindly Ágota Rosenstein, revered by everyone?
"Ágota was not a bad person," he continued, his tone somber. "But power corrupts. Even the gentlest soul can become a monster. She was simply afraid of his potential."
Aleshio fell silent, lost in his memories. The weight of the past seemed to pull him into another time, leaving me to wonder if he'd forgotten I was still there.
"What happened next?" I prompted, breaking the silence.
"Liv vowed revenge," he said softly. "If they hadn't killed his brother, he might never have become such a powerful mage. His life became consumed with vengeance and magic. When he finally felt ready, he went after her. I knew he would succeed, and that success would come at a price. The sons of the witch wouldn't let him walk free. That's why I made the regalia—to rescue my foolish disciple if needed. But I never had to use them."
He sighed heavily. "The Rosenstein twins declared war on us. I knew if they killed Livius, I would retaliate, and then the hunters would come for me. My death would spark a war between mages and hunters. Revenge is a vicious cycle that can't be broken by death—it requires sacrifice. I locked Liv away and took his sins upon myself, going into battle alone. The twins allied with a necromancer, who imprisoned me in the Mirrorworld."
"And what does this have to do with me?" I asked, my voice colder than intended.
"The last regalia is with Liv," Aleshio declared. "If he doesn't hand it over willingly, the necromancer will kill him."
"He's the Sorcerer Lord," I shrugged. "He can handle it."
"Liv is strong, yes," Aleshio admitted. "But he has a fatal weakness, one the enemy knows well. Ágota cursed him on the day he killed her—he can't bear the touch of water. It saps his strength."
I stared at Aleshio, his fuchsia eyes clouded with desperation.
"I don't want him to die, Shay," Aleshio pleaded. "All I can do now is ask you to help. Please, help my foolish disciple."
He fell silent, waiting for my response. The pieces of his story fit together in my mind. Regalia, the crown jewels, the emblem of a king. Aleshio wasn't just a powerful mage—he was the first ruler, the legendary king acknowledged by all.
"Why can't you help him?" I asked. "You have the power."
Aleshio pressed his lips into a thin line. "I no longer belong in this world. If I intervene, I may bring an even greater disaster."
I didn't want to get involved, but I knew if I refused, Aleshio would be devastated. Even the strongest dark mages have their weaknesses. For Aleshio, it was his student, someone he loved and respected, someone who caused his yet he still tried to protect him.
What surprised me most was that he never once reminded me how many times he had helped. He did not demand, he merely asked for my help.
"I'll do what I can," I grumbled reluctantly.
I cursed myself. That damned necromancer had known I'd help all along!
Aleshio's face lit with relief and gratitude, making me want to kick him. I told him to leave before he got any more sentimental. I'd think things over and try to get my friends on board, but he needed to do his own research.
He hesitated but finally stood. I escorted him out to ensure he didn't turn back with some excuse.
When I opened the door, I found a kid reaching for the handle. He smiled briefly, but upon seeing Aleshio, the smile froze into a shocked groan. And in that moment, I knew the end had come.
"Master."