Days passed in the quiet village of Willowdale, where Aiden found himself slowly piecing together the world around him.
Aiden's quest for information in Willowdale turned out to be as uncomfortable as it was enlightening.
To avoid suspicion, he had to play the role of a curious kid—which was quickly becoming his most despised task. Forced to act wide-eyed and innocent, he found himself stumbling over words and biting his tongue, suppressing his natural sarcasm and intensity.
One day, he approached an elderly woman selling vegetables at the market, trying to mask his annoyance with what he hoped was a friendly smile.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he piped up, doing his best to pitch his voice an octave higher.
"Do… do magic people really exist?"
The woman looked down at him with a twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, bless your heart! Little one, magic does exist, yes, but only nobles have it, you know. The Silverfall Kingdom is very careful about that—most of us don't even see a hint of magic our whole lives."
Aiden nodded, trying to look properly amazed. But inside, he was practically screaming.
'Only nobles? Really? I could raise an entire army of undead in my sleep!' Still, he kept his expression neutral, nodding with fake enthusiasm.
"And, um," he pressed on, putting on his best 'innocent face,'
"are there… bad magic people? Like, the ones that do the spooky things?"
"Oh, like the necromancers?" the woman whispered, suddenly serious as she glanced around.
"It's dark magic, lad—unholy and forbidden. Necromancers are a blight upon the world; you'd best steer clear of that nasty talk."
Aiden tilted his head, trying to keep his expression innocent and confused, as if he was just a child piecing it all together.
"Is the necromancer… the one the guards mentioned when they rescued me from the… dead people?" he asked, his voice softening to a near whisper.
The woman's eyes widened, and she quickly leaned closer, lowering her voice even more.
"Oh, that's right, lad! Those poor guards thought you were being chased by an undead fiend! I heard them talking about it for days—they were so sure some dark sorcerer had sent those creatures after you." She shuddered, clutching her shawl.
"You're lucky to be safe, child. We don't need any cursed necromancers bringing their evil here, upsetting the dead and terrorizing the living."
Aiden nodded along, his heart pounding as he forced himself to look small and spooked.
"Then... then I'll also become like a guard," he declared,
puffing out his chest as if it would help sell his act.
"And I'll kill the necromancer and save you!" He tried to smile, giving the woman a determined look.
"Let everyone know, Aiden the guard is here to protect them."
The woman chuckled, clearly charmed.
"Oh, aren't you a brave little soul? A true hero in the making!"
Inside, Aiden felt a pang of secondhand embarrassment.
'If only I could face-palm right now,' he thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
'This is the most ridiculous thing I've had to do.'
With every overacted smile and every childlike nod, he felt his dignity slipping away. But the village was buying it, and for now, that was what mattered.
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As the days passed, Aiden continued his subtle investigation, piecing together bits of information about this new world and his dark power. His attempts to blend in as an innocent child had paid off.
The villagers, charmed by his "naive" curiosity and determination to be a hero, had taken a liking to him. Some days, an elderly woman would hand him a piece of bread or dried fruit as he walked by, commenting on how he looked too thin. Other times, a farmer would call out with a wave and hand him a small bag of fresh produce.
The kindness took Aiden by surprise, making him feel strangely at ease in this quiet, simple place.
The children had even invited him to join their games, tugging at his arm with pleading eyes. He'd declined every time, mumbling an excuse or simply ducking away, but their insistence hadn't stopped.
With every invitation, he could feel his inner self screaming,
'You're a grown man inside, not some kid!'
Yet he couldn't deny the warmth he felt at their acceptance and trust.
Uncle Gareth was a constant source of quiet support, treating Aiden with a kindness he hadn't experienced in years.
The gruff yet gentle guard would often ruffle his hair or leave a small treat for him at the dinner table, making it harder for Aiden to keep his guard up.
In moments like these, a part of him wanted to relax, to believe this place was safe, to stop thinking of every kind gesture as a trick.
The villagers' generosity and warmth chipped away at Aiden's hardened exterior, and he found himself drawn to their simple way of life. Unlike the scientists from his past, who had only ever seen him as a subject, or the robbers in the graveyard, who had only been interested in gold and power, these villagers were genuinely kind.
They shared what little they had, treating each other like family and creating a peaceful harmony that was foreign to him—even in his old world.
Despite the warmth he felt toward the villagers, Aiden couldn't ignore the reality of his situation. He was a necromancer, a wielder of forbidden magic that they all feared and despised. Staying here felt like a betrayal to their trust; every kind gesture, every warm meal was received under false pretenses. The longer he remained, the more attached he grew to this simple life, but he knew it was unsustainable.
These people, who showed him kindness without question, would likely turn on him the moment they knew the truth.
'I can't let it go any further,' he thought, a weight settling on his chest.
The bond he'd started to feel with this place—this life—felt as delicate as glass, and he couldn't let it shatter in the face of their inevitable disgust.
Late that night, while the village lay quiet and still, Aiden gathered his few belongings. As he slipped out of Gareth's cottage, he cast one last glance back at the cozy little home, feeling a pang of regret.
'If only things were different,' he thought, tightening his cloak around his shoulders.
With determined steps, he made his way toward the forest, venturing into the depths of its shadows. His destination was one he'd heard of in passing, spoken in hushed, fearful tones—a part of the forest where spirits lingered as though guarding something ancient and powerful.
Rumors swirled that those who dared to enter never returned, or worse, came back… changed.
This was no random choice; the tales he'd overheard hinted that these spirits could be tied to magic—perhaps even dark magic. If he was going to understand his powers fully, he'd have to delve into the darkest corners of the world, the forbidden places.
And if there was something hidden in this forest, guarded by spirits, it might just hold the answers he sought.
Aiden moved quietly, his senses heightened as he ventured deeper into the forest. The trees grew denser, their branches twisting into eerie shapes that cast long, shadowy fingers across the ground. The air grew colder, and a heavy, unnatural stillness settled over the landscape.
Aiden moved deeper into the forest, summoning whatever dead creatures he encountered along the way.
A fallen raven here, a fox carcass there—each one joined his growing entourage, a strange, silent procession of animal undead trailing behind him.
They weren't much in terms of strength, but for now, they served as extra eyes in the dark and would at least provide some distraction should anything ambush him.
Each time he raised a new creature, he felt a surge of dark energy—subtle but powerful, like a reminder of the forbidden art he wielded. As he glanced back at the lifeless eyes of his new "guards," he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.
He was no longer the helpless experiment of his previous life; he was the master of his own army, however small and ragged it might be.
The deeper he ventured, the heavier the atmosphere grew, filling the forest with an unsettling stillness. Though his undead animals moved without hesitation, their hollow eyes fixed ahead, Aiden felt something stirring within him—a faint, pulsing connection pulling him forward.
It was a sensation he couldn't quite explain, as though an unseen presence was guiding him, urging him deeper into the shadows.
With each step, the pull grew stronger, like a silent beacon that only he could sense. Trusting his instincts, he let the feeling guide him, following it through the dense trees and twisted branches.
Unbeknownst to him, someone had noticed his departure and was now trailing him with quiet, practiced steps. A figure wrapped in a thick, dark cloak blended seamlessly into the forest, moving with an ease born of experience.
Their eyes, sharp and calculating, never left Aiden's form as he navigated the labyrinth of twisted trees and thick underbrush.
The figure was careful, maintaining just enough distance to stay hidden but close enough to catch every movement, every muttered incantation Aiden used to raise the undead animals.
They watched with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion, making note of the boy's powers. Aiden might have been unaware, but this silent observer was well-versed in tracking and seemed to know the forest's secrets as well as Aiden knew his own powers.
As Aiden ventured further into the haunted depths of the forest, his stalker pressed closer, eyes narrowing with growing curiosity.