✨ A Little Bit of Magic || READER X RAY || The Promised Neverland

📕 Resurrection

I must preface any further documentation on this magic with a question.

'Do you love someone?'

And then after that,

'Would you die for them?'

If you answered yes to either, then I must give you a formal warning. And those of you who are here, searching for a magical remedy to grief rather than emotional, are probably seeking that same thing.

Perhaps you're a veteran, just returning from a war, having watched all your comrades die to save you, you're searching for a way to revive them.

Maybe you're a man, whose wife or daughter had just passed away from a horrible accident.

You have searched for vengeance, and perhaps you found it. But has revenge filled the hole in your heart left by your loved one's passing?

The answer is no. It's always no.

And that's why you're here, in the resurrection page of a spellbook that probably won't be published.

I too, have lost someone I love. And I too have turned to magic. And my experience with resurrection is what gives me the qualification to write this, as no one has before.

Successfully resurrected another, I mean.

When a living being dies, they die for good.

I like to believe that one thing's passing is the gateway to life on the other side of the earth, but it is but a hopeful thought- that my husband hadn't died in vain.

Love drove me to tears, to sobs, to pain, to anger.

Love drove me to fear, to hatred, to desperation.

And just like you, probably, I'd wanted revenge. Revenge to the man who'd killed my husband, and closure for myself. So I'd killed him in return.

A life for a life, as I like to think.

And yet I was still empty.

I still woke up alone. I still ate breakfast alone. I still took the train alone, and walked alone, and slept alone. The only difference was that I'd become a murderer. And that's what kept me up at night.

And my desperation was this resurrection.

Maybe my dearest husband was taken away to become a butterfly, or a dove. But surely, this monster I'd killed would be taken away to restore my husband's life.

A bit two faced the phrase is. "A life for a life."

But the person who rose from the cauldron, the skeleton I'd stolen from the grave- It was surely my husband's. But the feeling I felt when he embraced me for the first time in years- It was anything but love. Anything but comfort.

Keep that in mind.

When a living being dies, they die for good.

The logistics of resurrection? Well, surprisingly, it's more apparent here than even the simplest of ignits.

My husband's soul had already died. It died with him that fateful night he'd run into a Magical High Committee member without his glamour. The body we'd put in the ground was indeed his, but just the shell of it. My sweet Gogo had already found his way into heaven.

Resurrection was no magic trick. It was immoral. Unethical. Some type of freak show, to be quite frank.

My husband's shell and his murderer's freshly killed soul. It was a zombie. It was hatred.

You can't bring the dead back to life. It will be your minion, but not the person you want it to be. Nor will it ever.

Resurrection is worse, if not just as bad, as a curse.

Please, heed this warning and heed my tale. Do not continue. Not if you truly loved this person.