Prologue

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Unknown POV
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A storm passed over the horizon, murky gray clouds haunting the Blood Mountains. The ground shook with every lightning strike, not a single soul went without feeling them. They felt strong enough to shatter the world from beneath them. Perhaps one day they would. With every shake of the Earth, a woman screamed. With every passing second, with every gust of wind, she pushed as hard as she could. Something uneasy settled deep within my stomach at the first strangled cry of the infant. The baby blinked, an earsplitting scream ripping from it's throat.

"It's a girl!" The doctor cheered, holding the naked baby into the air as if she were a trophy. Gray eyes. I had seen yellow, i'd have seen black and purple - but never have I seen an infant with gray eyes. The sort of gray of polished cement. The doctor set the child on the mother's chest, the crying never stopped. He tilted the babies head, angling her shoulder down. His eyes only widened when he found the mark on her neck. I could feel the air growing thick, thick with anticipation, with terror. He stumbled back, he looked to be in disbelief. As if the god's of Sorcery fell from the heavens and demanded to have his first heir. He shook his head, ridding the emotion. "She's a necromancer."

Everyone in the room hushed. The cheering, the cooing, the laughter that caused tears - it all stopped. I was the only one who seemed intrigued, no, hopeful. This was great. Marvelous, even. It's been centuries since a necromancer had been born. It was believed to be a curse more than a blessing. It was rumored, passed down from old bedtime stories, necromancers were a creation from the devil. Their magic was far more powerful than most, because they had the ability to summon the dead it was said that they hovered above the gap of life and death. Centuries ago, a group of necromancers formed with the hopes to raise Hell. To bring every demon and monster from downstairs and have them walk the Earth, to feed off of whatever and whoever. They were killed before their plan could carry out, before anyone could find out why they wanted to open the portal.

Some more recent tales say theres a handful of them still alive, hiding out and waiting for the right time. Others say its impossible, they couldn't possibly walk the Earth - the god's wouldn't allow it. No one knows the truth, no one knows whats fiction.

Suddenly, the babies soft, tear-filled eyes found mine. The crying cut off, as if the new soul knew who I was. Perhaps from a past life. I stepped forward, tasting the faint bitterness of death that hung in the air. "Ah, yes." I hum, tapping my chin with a new found excitement. Years, so long ago, a baby boy was born. A demon child. He had given me the same look that this baby had. They both, at just seconds old, reeked of power. Of change. I could see stars aligning, the sun peeking out of the clouds on an early dewy morning, the start of life in the spring. "I know just the person." I whisper, imagining the onyx black eyes of the boy. Gray and black. How morbid.

Though, you can only see light when there is darkness.

I put out two fingers, my index and middle. In the air, I made a small motion, blue sparkling magic flowed out of my fingertips and danced in the air. I wrote ancient symbols with it, as if i've known them my whole life. The air became tainted with the smell of cherry blossoms and honey, the lingering scent of my powers. I placed my two fingers on the child's forehead, watching as her body began to glow a mixture of gray and black. The two souls binding. No one said anything, as they always did. No one ever interferes with my work, they trusted me when half the time I didn't trust myself. I've made mistakes before but this one -

Zap.

I snatched my hand away from the baby, a burning pain swirling and festering just beneath my skin. That never happens. I could already see my skin blistering, a soft red. The baby began crying again. I cradled my hand, stepping back. Then as if nothing happened, the doctors and nurses began prepping to clean the infant and aid the mother back to health. When I looked back at my fingers, I realized it wasn't a normal burn and I felt my heart quicken with realization. My fingertips were black now, a symbol carved into the skin of my middle finger. The symbol of death.

I might have created the worst possible soul-bond yet.

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