“I must say, Lady Hart, this is an odd way of introduction,” the druid began, bewildered at the goblins tearing the bindings from his arms.

  “I was promised by that plant-person outside—”

  “Elm Minister, the fey?” Noel added, beginning to stand.

  “—Sure. Anyways, Elm Minister said you would also be able to help me get into the castle so I can enter Levan’s Tomb.”

  Noel was a massive man, standing easily at 6’6”, with a body that made a bear look scrawny. His hair was long and ragged, and his beard extended well past his chest. His arms, legs, and even barrel-like chest were covered in hair. His muscles rippled out, since the man wasn’t wearing any clothing except for a loincloth against his groin.

  He kind of looked like a wild man to me, from the stories of a noble woman getting trapped on a deserted island to woo a savage.

  “Necromancer—”

  “Ashley, Ms. Hart, or Lady Hart since everyone is just assuming I’m a noble now,” I interjected.

  “Alright, Ashley… My name is Noel. Noel Birchi—Noel Birch,” he began, extending his massive arm and offering me his hand.

  I looked at it with utter confusion. He left it hanging there, and I continued to just watch. Slowly, I extended my hand and gripped his… fingers? I assume that was what I was meant to do. Immediately, he pulled me in and clasped his hand against mine and squeezed. The muscles in his arms and hand didn’t tense, but it still felt like a crushing force against my palm.

  As soon as he withdrew, I shook my hand off, which caused him to smile and rub the back of his hand. “Sorry, Ashley. But you are asking a child of Danu to let you enter a lich’s lair. I would be complicit in whatever crimes you’re planning to commit.”

  “I’m just trying to find out how to make my zombies smarter so they can harvest crops. And maybe throw fertilizer for me?” I bluntly admitted.

  Noel’s face scrunched up, and his eyes peered at me. His nose sniffed the air, which seemed to relax him. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m afraid so, Noel. I ain’t got no grand aspiration here, I’m just tryin’ to figure out how to farm a bit better.”

  His head tilted again. “So, you raided a goblin’s den—”

  “—And came to this quaint, queer little town in the middle of nowhere—”

  “Yes, that too. Raided a goblin’s den, impressed a goblin underboss, and somehow convinced him to move out—which, mind you, was the task given to me by Danu—just so you could find someone to take you to the crypts, so you can get your zombies to fertilize crops?”

  It was my turn to tilt my head. The way he phrased it made it sound a lot weirder than it actually was. “Aye, if you put it like that it sounds like a nutter, but… it’s the truth.”

  “And the very fact you aren’t killing me, or ordering the goblins here to do so, really points in your favour,” he said, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. “Look, I feel like you’re lying to me, but fey blood lets me seek out deception—like how your veil won’t work on me.”

  My eyes shot open. “Am I going to have to kill every druid or fey I meet?”

  His face scrunched up again. “Nah? Fey contract prevents us from revealing it, and the fey do lie. No inquisitor, or God-fearing folks, is going to believe a wild man or a pixie.”

  That calmed me down, just a little bit. It was good that they wouldn’t, but I had to find a way to make sure they couldn’t.

  Noel continued, “I will take you to Levan’s tomb, if you will let me come in with you. I have been curious about what was inside, and that way I can keep my eye on you.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I immediately responded.

  “I know it’s a hard ask, but—Excuse me?”

  “I don’t care if you come with me. I’d enjoy the company, Noel,” I flatly admitted.

  “You are a strange one, Lady Hart.”

  “And you’re not dead, or a witch, or talking my ear off. So, you’re already the best person in my circle of friends?”

  “We’re friends now, Lady Hart?” he laughed.

  “I mean, I’d prefer that way instead of bein’ enemies. My enemies have this strange effect of dying or being a Vampyre. Do you know Bazerie?”

  “...The Blood Witch? I know her.”

  “You friends with her?”

  “Is this a test, Lady Hart?”

  “I’m going to probably have to kill her so I can continue farming in peace.”

  “Danu’s breath… Alright, you are a nutter. But at least your goals are aligned with mine. Come with me, I’ll show you how to get to Levan’s tomb.”

  “You didn’t answer my question!”

  “I’m not friends with a slaver, psychopath, and blood witch. I barely want to be friends with a necromancer, but between the two options I have, you’ve at least shown some sense of nobility.”

  “But we are friends now, right?” I asked again.

  “I… I don’t understand you. You aren’t lying or planning anything, since my senses would be going off. It very much feels like you’re only concerned with the next task at hand.”

  “My ma told me that’s the only way to live. You start making big plans and contingencies, and you end up just panicking and doin’ nothing. I’m slowly figuring things out.”

  Noel let out another sigh, but rolled his shoulders. He began to walk out of the den where the goblins were keeping him. He stared at Wizex, who politely waved him off. Wizex returned to instructing the remaining goblins to pack up and leave.

  I quickly followed behind, two of my steps being the equivalent of one of his. Noel took both of us out of the warrens, where Elm Minister and the owl were waiting.

  “Lord Bir—!” Elm Minister began, but Noel shot him a pointed look. “Noel! Thank Danu you’re alive! And… you’ve the necromancer with you. I… do not know how to feel about this.”

  “Can you figure it out after? I promised Jasmine I’d see her soon, and I really need to be going to the castle,” I interrupted.

  Noel looked at the two and shook his head. “I was half expecting you to be undead and this to be a trap. A necromancer who’s true to her word. Guess I must be true to mine.”

  Noel looked at me, and closed his eyes. He rubbed his nose as well, muttering to himself.

  His body shifted in a gleam of white light, and unlike the manipulation I was doing, I could tell this was divine. Noel wasn’t a [Witch] grasping at the sides of nature magic, but a well-practised caster.

  Where the massive man once stood, a massive hawk with lightning sparking through its feathers remained. Its eyes were golden, and the plumage was streaked with yellow and white. It was almost the same size as a small tree, and when he expanded his new wings, they blocked out the sun.

  “Noel is telling you to get on, Lady Hart,” Elm Minister instructed me.

  “Isn’t that a bit obvious?”

  “That is the point. A roc being here can only be the work of a druid, and one entering the catacombs would be expected by the manor guards. Any other form and it’d draw suspicion.”

  “That sounds wrong,” I began, but moved towards the Noel-roc. He lowered his head, allowing me to get on his back.

  “Paladins ride white horses with gleaming armor to announce themselves. You two could become black crows and fly there too, but if any guard saw you enter, it’d lead to another fight. This is the same—going in with a sense of purpose,” the fey stated, and I just accepted it.

  Noel’s heavy wings fluttered, huge tufts of wind expelling from underdraft. The grass ripped and loose leaves fluttered away from their trees as he took to the skies. The launch was like the clap of thunder, and we moved high into the blue.

  My fingers instinctively reached and tugged into his feathers, gripping for dear life. The wind blew against my face, and I was having a very hard time keeping my eyes open to experience the sensation.

  I stupidly looked down. The entirety of Talbotton was visible to me, and the small specks that were houses gave me some sense of scale. The trees that towered over me looked so diminutive from above, and my stomach began to turn.

  “Oh Amaril, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die,” I chattered, pushing my head down to stop staring.

  Thankfully, the flight was only a few moments as we began to descend, crashing into a walled-off area above a spiralling mountain. My body still shook, but Noel lowered his head down to the earth. I did not move.

  He shook his body, and launched me gently to the dirt. I held onto the grass for dear life, before feeling a tug on my shoulders. Noel lifted me up with his left arm, bringing me to the sky like a child, and then making me stand. “You’re on solid ground now, Lady Hart. Let’s go,” the now-human [Druid] told me.

  I shook the feeling away, and walked behind him into a rather ornate stone structure. There were two stone angels guarding the door, Amaril’s Heralds, and Noel pushed the intricate catacomb gates open.

  “Can you see in the dark?” he asked me, already beginning to walk into the building.

  “No! Can you?” I asked, running behind him.

  “Yes,” he responded, but handed me a torch. “For you then.”

  I looked at the torch and then around. “Do you have a way to light this thing?”

  “You… don’t know how to make a fire?” he quizzically shot back. “Do you not know how to cook?”

  I stared down at the torch. “I mean, I didn’t get the time between studying and all.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a noble then, Lady Hart?” he stated, turning around and igniting the torch with a simple fire spell, the same type I had seen Melissa use for her cigarettes.

  The orange flame illuminated the area, coating the underground with harsh light. Stone coffins rested about in hundreds of rows, each with different family names. My body shivered, half expecting the same sarcophagus of Rhyvesta awaiting me in some dark corner, but nothing was there.

  “So where’s the tomb?” I asked Noel.

  “How would I know? I’m not a necromancer. I thought you would have some way of figuring this out.”

  I closed my mouth, trying to think of something witty to say but nothing came to my head. Instead, I focused my senses.

  [Mortis Visio]

  The catacombs were another maze, but I could hear the songs of death. North and west had nothing, but the east was this loud squirming sensation of maggots writhing on a corpse. So I moved east. Noel quickly followed me.

  The sensation was getting louder as we entered the less-cared-for parts of the tomb. The wreaths and flowers here weren’t fresh, and dust and spiders and other dark-loving crawlies wandered about. I even saw a few rats, but their beady eyes stared at me with no fear. In fact, it almost looked like they were watching me and checking on my progress, before scampering away.

  Eventually, we came to a dead end—though that was wrong. A picture of the veiled Rhyvesta was against the wall, her arms crossed together, one hand holding a scythe and the other a skull. I wasn’t sure what it was doing here since even a wooden idol in her image was grounds for heresy—let alone an entire fresco.

  “Why are you staring at a blank wall; are we lost, Lady Hart?” Noel answered my question for me.

  “We are not, Noel—Lord Bi—”

  “Noel is fine. I do not like being called by my last name,” he immediately cut me off.

  “Okay, Noel. There’s an image of Rhyvesta right here.”

  “...Danu’s breath. I knew the tomb of Levan was here, but the Enemy’s Gaze too?”

  I turned around curiously. “What? All necromancers serve Rhyvesta, even the failed ones like Bazerie.”

  “Are you serious, Lady Hart? Necromancers serve the Grand Deciever?” Noel immediately stated, his voice raising.

  “I mean… we are friends, right? You’re not going to turn me into the inquisitors since I saved your life?”

  “...I will not. I am afraid of what you’re about to say next now though.”

  “I have an altar of Rhyvesta in my basement. She’s the one who advanced me?”

  Noel paled in the torchlight. “And you are sure you are just doing this for farming, Lady Hart? This isn’t the Grand Deceiver’s tricks?”

  “I can take you to my farm right after this, if you want, if you can tolerate listening to Jasmine on the ride back. I can even show you my altar…?” I offered.

  “I will take you up on that offer, but know this, Lady Hart—if you are deceiving me, I will kill you.”

  “I don’t think Ophelia would like that, but you’re welcome to try.”

  Noel said nothing, so I let my hand move forward and touch the fresco. It felt cold to me, but Noel had touched me a few times now and didn’t comment on my body temperature. I guess I had a different witchmark while being a [Reaper]. What that witchmark was, I had no idea.

  The wall, however, did nothing.

  I kicked the wall.

  My foot hurt, and the wall did not move.

  “LIas’Fakra’Roma-Ne’VAK!” I swore out.

  (Bloody cursed stupid door, just OPEN)

  At the last word, the wall began to shift and dirt came down. It slowly slid into a slit below, revealing a staircase that wound even deeper into the catacombs’ heart. I rubbed my foot, and Noel just patted me on the back.

  “I was going to ask if that was a magical spell, but I’m under the impression you just said ‘open’ in whatever secret language you had?” Noel stated.

  “What—No! I knew what I was doing,” I hastily responded.

  “You are not an adventurer. I can easily tell that by the way you carry yourself, how you act around me, and even the goblins. You’re not lying about your farm at all, are you, Lady Hart?”

  “You can come visit!”

  “I will be.” He repeated, and gave my back a push to suggest I get on with it.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a massive cavernous room. It looked like the interior of a cathedral, but in the center was a singular tomb. The room had eight massive pillars, four on each side, each in the shape of undead holding the roof above them.

  On the left were the dead I was used to: skeletons, dredges, zombies, and then a malformed creation. Abomination, I realized—a hasty creation made of impure parts. I guess the dog I had made was a type of abomination, but the more common types were the ones created by mutilated bodies, or ones heaped together.

  On the right, though, were… I just recognized one. A vampire. The other three, I had to stare at.

  The first looked like a phantasm, where the ethereal nature of it was sculpted into the stone. A ghost—though this specifically was a banshee, the wailing hostess. Ghosts represent souls without material bodies, and would be something I could create if I had no intention of making them work in my fields. But they also composed and played in the Symphony, so they might have been good “morale agents” to the higher breed of undead.

  The second was thousands of insects and maggots squirming into a shape, covered by a ratted hood. A Carrion Lord. [Call Carrion] was an ability I had received way back when this began, but never had a purpose to use. But Rhyvesta was of the harvest and cycle, which meant I did have dominion over the carrion. I could meld them into a body of a singular frame.

  A thought came into my head. I could make a Maggot-Which-Squirms. That would infinitely fix my compost issues…

  The third was a giant golem—much like the one that Wizex had used against me, and Levan had “gifted me.” It held itself sturdy.

  The way they were positioned was not lost on me either. The skeleton was opposite the ghost, the zombie was opposite the vampire, the dredge was opposite the Carrion Lord, and the abomination was opposite the golem. I couldn’t help but stop a giggle.

  I could tell Ophelia that my zombies were her younger brothers! I began to laugh at that, but Noel clasped my back.

  “This is horrifying, Lady Hart, what’s so funny?”

  “Ophelia’s younger brother is Big Boy!” I laughed, trying to explain between the chuckles.

  Noel stared at me with utter confusion. “What?!”

  “You’ll get it later, but… just look. The skeleton is just a weaker ghost, the zombie is a weaker vampire, you see?”

  Noel peered at the pillars and then blinked in surprise. “I didn’t notice that. You’re incredibly observant, aren’t you?”

  “I have to be, or I wouldn’t notice insects crawling on my crops, or the difference between belladonna and… well, plants that look like it.”

  Noel smiled at that description. Figures—he is a druid, he would understand what I meant.

  I began to move, and as I crossed the entrance to the center where the tomb lay, spectral green flames began to light up. They bathed the room in their harsh green, overpowering my orange flame.

  I walked toward the tomb, and it was just a plain stone one. I was expecting something fancier. I put my hand on the lid and tried to give it a push, but my small arms wouldn’t move it.

  Noel groaned, ran up beside me, and slowly pushed it to the side. It creaked loudly, disturbed dust floating into the air. I closed my eyes and began to wave the dust away from my mouth, coughing wildly.

  The tomb opened, and inside was just a scythe. No body, nothing. A scythe. I was expecting that, so my hand reached slowly down to get it. I was half-expecting—hoping—Noel would grab my wrist, but no such action came.

  I touched the hilt, and green, smoking light flew into the room. It coalesced in the green flames, before blacking out the entire tomb. My torch died, the flames died, and even Noel seemed to stumble.

  “Accursed darkness! I can’t see,” he began, unaccustomed to actually being in the dark at this point, I figured.

  The smoke came together and then became the shape of a man—no, just something man-shaped. It was magnificently tall and smoke poured from the underside of his robes. His face was just coated in blackness, the shades of green flame being the only real color.

  But the spectral flame illuminated his eyes, as he stared angrily down at us.

  “Necromancer,” a spectral voice called out from nowhere—from everywhere. “And you brought a friend too. I am Levan’s spirit.”

  Also, this is remembrance day week now (as per my authors notes). I expect I'll be slow or miss a few days depending on how busy I am.

  Also, I fear I am slowly going to be falling off rising stars sometime soon. With that, the impetous for daily posts will fade away, so when that happens, I'm going to re-evaluate my schedule.

  Thanks