Winter: a poem, based on Necromantic

You're swallowing fire again. You never promised to stop, but for your apprentice, I had assumed... This is no place to raise a child. Among the cold heather of the frozen highlands, eating roots and drinking broth, traveling with a master who forgets to cook for two, learning the craft from a dropout who never completed... Continue Reading →

Not A Hot Dream: A Necromantic Scene

“Morning, Laddo.” Maccuccio greeted Cyril the same way he greeted her each of his mornings. Cyril was never quite sure what a “laddo” was, but it was said with a smile and gruff upward nod, so she figured it was a term of endearment. Drifting in the cold morning air was the smell of whatever... Continue Reading →

The Tavern in Pulethal: A Necromantic Scene

“Well then, I leave the boy in your capable hands, dear Aeth,” said Innu bowing. Cyril’s jaw dropped. “But Innu, I—“ “Toodeloo,” Innu said, waving. He hurried outside before the prince had a chance to object further. No wonder he’s worried. You left him with a rot Ponticusan! “Watch what you say, good spirit,” Innu... Continue Reading →

The Hanging City: A Necromantic Scene

“What are you sneezing for?” Cyril sniffed but his nose was too stuffed up for it to do any good. “I’m sick,” he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Can’t you tell?” “No, don’t do that.” Innu grabbed his arm but it was too late. “Now you have sick all over your arm and... Continue Reading →

The Rage: A Necromantic Scene

A spark of light and heat. It took a full 20 seconds for Cyril to process that the light and heat had come from his own fingers. His fingers were in flames. In a panic Cyril patted them against his clothes. At first, Cyril was afraid they wouldn’t extinguish, but they did, eventually. The shelf... Continue Reading →

No More Excuses: A Necromantic Scene

Despite Cyril’s best attempts, the time of his departure finally came. It was as unceremonious as he feared it would be. Claudia wasn’t there; their mother wasn’t even there. Only his father, stern with arms crossed, making sure Cyril mounted his horse. A warden, a guard, making sure his only prisoner obeyed. Even as he... Continue Reading →

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