Necromancy was a forbidden school of spellcasting, a school known universally on Validar as ‘the dark arts’. In almost every country of each of Validar’s Nine Realms, a spellcaster who raised the dead and bound them to his or her will to do their bidding was considered amongst the highest of taboos a master of magic could commit.

Generally speaking, there were four reasons why practitioners of necromancy were so hated and feared. First among them was how it disrespected the fallen. To practice necromancy was to practice an art that disturbed the dead. The idea to many that those who had passed on to the Heavens might be dragged back to the land of the living to act as slaves trapped in rotting flesh was a disgusting prospect, especially if the undead in question had once been their loved ones. In most cultures on Validar, necromancers were seen as ‘cursed defilers’ and the ‘most damnable of grave robbers.’

The second was the danger their undead posed. Most undead were not particularly deadly in the direct sense; no more dangerous than a large rabid dog generally. A common man with a mace and a good swinging arm could deal enough damage to incapacitate lesser undead and then burn it. No, the greatest danger the undead posed was being incubators for disease. While certain undead like vampires, ghosts, and liches were exceptions, most undead were foul-smelling hosts of all manner of potential plagues. Even if one killed a zombie or a ghoul, the sickness they might spread could kill far more efficiently than their slightly superhuman strength could.

Third, there was the danger of the necromancer losing control of his own undead minions. Being an unnatural resident among the living, the moment one of these creatures from the grave were given autonomy and left without a master to direct them, they would go wild like an untrained hound let off its leash until the magical energy that kept them among the living dissipated or they themselves were destroyed.

Being a genius, Liam was able to avoid these first three malpractices of the magical malpractice that was necromancy. But even he could not avoid the fourth and most heinous of the reasons for the universal phobia against his dark art: The effect the entropic magical energy had on the necromancer themselves. Eventually, after enough time was spent dabbling in this dark art, its foul force would begin to root itself within the spellcaster’s body, mind, and soul and corrupt them from the inside out. Liam had, for a very long time, been able to keep secret this ‘side project’ of his. But eventually, even a mind as robust as his could not resist succumbing to what wizard’s throughout the world of Validar called Entropic Consumption.

Liam started to go mad, becoming estranged from his friends. When it progressed even further, the entropic magical energy seemed to completely possess him entirely. The Liam that Morgan and the others knew was consumed by this new darker alter ego. The brilliant wizard became a brooding dark sorcerer who had abandoned his original noble-minded research to attempt to turn himself into a powerful lich. He failed and was ultimately slain by the Chosen One, his own friend. In his final moments, Liam regained his original mind, apologized for what he had done, and pleaded for Morgan and the others to destroy all of his research thus far. It was one of the worst tragedies the future Hero of Eight Realms had to endure on Validar.

“And you’re seriously risking going through all that shit again? What the hell is wrong with you?!” Morgan asked in a fury. “You get in an accident and hit your damn head?”

Liam avoided Morgan’s gaze, his eyes scanning the floor as though the words he was searching for would be there. All the while, the undead girl in his grasp continued to gnaw and slobber on him.

“I get it. You’re right to be upset,” Liam said. “Just… Just give me one minute and I’ll explain everything.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Rose was seated beside Liam who had fetched a muzzle and fastened it around her mouth. The zombie’s master also held her hand while they sat together on the couch to prevent her from moving without permission as though she was some hyperactive child. The whole thing looked so ludicrous to Morgan he might have laughed had he not been so pissed off about everything surrounding it.

“So? How are you gonna sell this one?” the hero asked. “I know you know about baseball now. You’ve got to know that you’re on your third strike.”

“I only succumbed to Entropic Consumption once.”

“After you were caught messing around with the dark arts for the second time. You were caught once before that, and Cerdric tore into you for it.”

“Heh. Yeah, he sure did. He even threatened to have me ‘muted’ and placed into some wizard’s prison that Karla – that mage warden friend of his – was in charge of.”

In many of Validar’s realms, muting was the go-to method of keeping dangerous and/or felonious spellcasters from committing anymore magic-based offenses. Through the use of tools and censorious magic, it cut off a spellcaster’s innate mana and prevented them from manipulating outside sources as well. It essentially robbed them of their ability to function as a spellcaster. For those who had been able to feel the tingle of magical energy since they were toddlers, it was almost violating. Some places refused to do it entirely, thinking it too cruel and inhumane. That Cerdric, who considered Liam one of his dear protégés, would threaten him with such a punishment shows how severe he believed the transgression of necromancy to be.

It was only with a promise that he would abandon necromancy and any other practice of the dark arts that Cerdric and the others let up.

“But you still continued behind our backs anyway,” Morgan sighed.

“I did. No excuses.”

“Oh, you had an excuse. It was pretty noble, to be honest. He found a way that necromancy could be used to help people. To use entropic magical energy to end all magically inflicted diseases… like the one that devastated your homeland of Tyvar.”

Liam sighed. “…It’s still no excuse. The Great Tyvarnese Plague affected countless people, and I was the only one who turned to the dark arts for answers. I thought that by reverse-engineering the same type of magic that had unleashed the plague, I could not only resolve it but prevent future tragedies like it from happening in the future. I was just delusional. Like trying to dislodge a bullet in somebody’s shoulder by shooting it out with a second bullet. It was always going to end in disaster, just like I was warned it would. I let obsession and trauma take precedence over simple common sense and paid the price for it with my life. …And the scorn of my friends.”

“Scorn? You think me and the others hated you after all that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? I broke a promise, betrayed your expectations, and left you with no option but to take my life.”

“That doesn’t mean I despise you now, man. It’s not like you were dabbling in the dark arts because you were hungry for power or chasing after immortality like other necromancers. You were some dumb teenager who thought that there would be like at the end of some murky, black tunnel you were wading waist-deep in muck through. And you were wrong. What happened back in Validar didn’t make me lose respect for you, man. I knew you and your heart too well for that. It just made me realize that, despite being a genius, you were still a dumbass in your own special way.”

Liam blinked. Then he began to laugh softly to himself. He continued laughing while tears started welling up in his eyes. As he pushed up his glasses to wipe them away, Rose moaned and tried fruitlessly to catch a fruit fly that had managed to make its way inside the house. Morgan was silent as he watched the odd scene before him – his necromancer friend crying while his raised zombie lackadaisically snatched at a fly who flew just slightly out of reach. This was definitely not the type of reunion with a friend he would have expected.

“Right… I see,” Liam said, collecting himself. “Well, as good as that is to hear, I can’t say I haven’t lost respect for myself. I’ve spent plenty of my time on Earth thinking back on how things could have gone differently.”

“Then why the hell are you practicing necromancy again? You already know how this ends, Liam!”

“It’s not for what you think. I’ve given up on any idea of using necromancy as some alternative healing magic. I’ve only raised Rose, and she’s only been undead for a handful of months.”

“What are you actually trying to do then, man?”

Pushing up his glasses, Liam asked his friend “I know you’ve only been on Earth for barely two days, but have you heard of the Puget Sound Killer?”

“That serial killer? He’s still at large isn’t he?”

“He is. And he’s been at large for over a year now, killing with impunity in Washington, Oregon, Montana, California, British Colombia; and he even has a few bodies in Alaska. Law enforcement hasn’t reported the exact numbers because they’re not completely sure what they are, and they don’t want to inflame the public by revealing that this guy has murdered almost one hundred people across the North West.”

Morgan furrowed his brow. “How do you know what the approximate numbers are if the police don’t?”

“I’ve been privately investigating the Puget Sound Killer myself. I felt I had to after realizing that the police will never be able to catch them.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because I’m 100% sure that the Puget Sound Killer is a Validaran.”

Morgan’s eyes widened.

“Seriously?! How’d you even figure that out?”

“Investigators described how the victims were killed as ‘unlike anything they had ever seen.’ There was no evidence of strangulation, bruising, cuts, burns, bullet wounds, or anything of that nature. The victims’ died from their hearts exploded from the inside. It’s absolutely befuddled investigators. They would have thought it was just a series of death by some mystery disease if not for the killer’s calling card.”

“Calling card.”

Liam then reached over to Rose’s blouse and gently tugging down it down just enough for Morgan to see the branding that had been imprinted in her flesh right above her heart.

“Every single victim they’ve found has had this branding on their chest with their hearts crushed. Note that I’m saying found. There have been bodies discovered in the wilderness and torn apart by animals that nobody realized were PSK victims until someone noticed the brand on them. This has led to a popular theory that there are several PSK victims that have been reported missing but that nobody has found yet.”

“And you’ve found some of them yourself?”

“Yeah. Rose is one, though she hasn’t been reported missing yet. Despite me finding her some months ago, I’ve yet to see a single missing person’s report put out for her. Seems like she didn’t have family or friends who cared enough to do so if she had any at all.”

The hero now zeroed in on the dainty zombie, who took Liam’s hand and began tugging at his fingers.

“Okay, but why raise her from the dead? What does that accomplish?”

“Conventional methods of tracking down PSK won’t work. They have no specific ‘type’ that they go after. Men, women, the young, the elderly, white, black, Asian, Hispanic – anyone could become their victim. And their method of murder doesn’t leave behind anything for forensics to stick them on. Short of catching them in the act, normal people will never be able to catch the killer. Such an unconventional murderer requires unconventional investigating to catch. I’m unsure if the killer used magic or Quintessence to murder, but regardless, either would leave a trace of their presence behind. I raised Rose as a zombie so she could help me trace that presence currently embedded in her heart back to its original source.”

“So… you’re using her like a bloodhound?”

“Yes,” Liam affirmed unabashedly.

“Couldn’t you have just, I dunno, taken out her heart and used it to track the killer down? That’s where the essence is lingering isn’t it?”

“I could have. Removing it surgically would have been easy for me, even without magic, but a zombie is better able to recognize energy signatures because of how resonation the soul-trapping within the body produces.”

“Is that something you learned in your necromancy research?”

“…Yes.”

Morgan sighed. “So, you’re a well-meaning necromancer… again. What happens when it all catches up to you and Entropic Consumption takes over for the second time?

Liam responded by digging into his clothes and pulling out a small thin container. He popped it open and revealed a row of syringes filled with some unknown concoction that gave off a soft glow.

“These are filled with an alchemical creation of mine that can stop Entropic Consumption from occurring. Whenever I feel a powerful surge of it coming on, I take out one of these and give myself a quick jab. I feel really sick, tired, and have this awful taste in my mouth for a day or two after, but it works.”

“Sounds like it’s just a temporary fix.”

“That’s because it is.”

Morgan made a severe expression and Liam responded with a somewhat chagrined smile.

“You’re completely right to look at me like that. Look – I know what I’m doing is stupid, but it’s the best way I know to catch the killer. Not too long ago, Rose led me to a victim who had died recently enough for me to magically restore their heart to a good enough condition that some EMTs were able to resuscitate them. PSK got away and the victim couldn’t recall anything about the attack afterward, but the fact that I came as close as I did shows that this can work. I swear, Morgan, the moment I catch the killer, I’ll never dabble in the dark arts again.”

The hero sighed. “I really don’t want to have to fight you again, Liam.”

This was not a threat. It was a sincere plea from a concerned friend fearing the worst may come once again. Liam couldn’t tell him his feelings were misplaced with a straight face. Morgan had every right to feel so anxious about what might happen if things got out of hand a second time. The surgeon could only respond with “I know. I don’t want to give you a reason to.”

A moment of silence passed between the two. Only Rose’s groans could be heard. Eventually, deciding he heard enough, the Chosen One stood.

“Alright. Whatever,” he said. “No point saying anything else since you’re going to do whatever you want anyway. That’s how you were back on Validar.”

“That’s how you were too.”

Morgan folded his arms, unable to deny his friend’s words. He gave another look to the zombie girl.

“Does she try and bite people often?”

“No. I think your Quintessence and magical energy set her off. She’s really sensitive to that stuff. She never gets a chance anyway. I keep her in the house, and she doesn’t know how to work locks or open windows so she never leaves without me.”

“Why not just keep her locked up?”

“Wouldn’t that be cruel?”

Morgan blinked. Then he started to laugh. Liam was still Liam. He was the only necromancer Morgan knew who treated his undead with humanity rather than lumbering *fodder of dead flesh.

“Yeah, I guess it would be. I’m gonna head out, man. Thanks for letting me over.”

“You need a ride back to that couple’s place?”

“Nah. I’ll just foot it back. You can keep what’s left in this bag though,” the hero said, taking one last candy bar from it. “You can let Rose have the rest.”

“What? And just let her ruin her teeth?”

Morgan shook his head as he left. He just couldn’t understand how that wizardly mind of his friend functioned. Just as he was shutting the door behind him, he felt something tingle in his pocket. He immediately reached for the envelope and realized that the magic safeguarding it was now gone.

“Finally,” he said tiredly while opening the envelope.

Inside had been a piece of paper with a single Seattle address. Underneath was written “Christopher Moon”. Morgan took a deep breath. For almost a minute he stood at Liam’s front door and stared at it until a nearby sound broke his focus. It was Rose knocking softly on the window.

“Food…” she said, her voice muffled by her muzzle.

Liam gently pulled her away from the window and waved goodbye to his friend before closing the curtains. The hero then went on his way, wondering all the while about how strange the world he had finally returned home to had become.