“But why is Necromancy called ‘Dark Magic’?”
The boy shivers his thin linen clothes poor comfort against the damp cool air of the cave. His weak voice echoes thinly through the air as he steps back from the offered warm meal, lingering so the edge of the light from his lantern just barely catches the steam rising.
From the darkness the boy hears the crunching of leaves under foot, a human shaped shadow outlined in the darkness approaches from deeper within the cave. The boys breath catches in his throat, a mixture of fear and excitement as the thin lined hand reaches into the light and draws the plate back into the darkness.
Silence, but for the sounds of nature consume him as the boy stands waiting. To run, to stay, he struggles to calm his breathing, his knees shaking intensely despite his efforts to still them. Minutes dredge themselves past, accompanied by the gentle scraping of cutlery in the darkness and his own shallow breaths until at last his patience can take no more.
The quiet clang of cutlery discarded on the ceramic of the plate answers him, causing a small startled jump in him. As he opens his mouth to say something, a strangely soft but powerful voice from darkness replies,
“Necromancy attracts those with darkness already in their souls…”
(To be continued)