Beyond the Veil of Death

CHAPTER 6 SUSPICION

"Indeed," the necromancer replied, his tone almost playful. "But before we begin, you must change your appearance."

Zarkus stared at the necromancer, confusion and apprehension etched on his face. "Change my appearance? Why?"

Chuckling softly at Zarkus's confusion, the necromancer's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Ah, I see that look on your face," he sneered, "wondering why I would demand such a thing. Is it not obvious?"

"Appearances can deceive," he murmured, his hollow eyes locking onto Zarkus. "They can reveal truth, but also conceal it. To train you effectively, I must be able to see what lies beneath the surface—to recognize your strengths and weaknesses without the illusion of your normal visage."

His grin deepened as he continued, his voice cold and deliberate.

"Think of it as shedding your old skin, so you may emerge stronger and more formidable. Trust me, little one, this is a crucial step in your training."

Zarkus swallowed hard, his heart still racing in his chest. He had never considered the possibility of changing his appearance before. The thought alone was unnerving, a strange and unnatural concept. But the necromancer's words echoed in his mind, their meaning clear and persuasive. If he was to grow stronger, he would have to trust the necromancer's methods, bizarre though they might be.

"Alright," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it. How do I change my appearance?"

The necromancer's hollow sockets gleamed with a spectral light, his skeletal grin spreading wide as Zarkus obeyed. "Ah... yes... excellent." His voice was a low, rasping whisper, each word heavy with a sinister satisfaction. "Close your eyes, Zarkus. Feel the energy... deep within your bones. Let it rise. Imagine... the form you wish to take. The form that will be... yours."

Zarkus took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the necromancer instructed. He focused inward, drawing on the energy within him. He imagined his body transforming, shedding its unusual features and returning to something more familiar.

His skin darkened, the greyish hue fading away. His limbs shortened and lost their elongated shape, becoming more human-like. His eyes turned from their unnatural luminous state to a more ordinary dark color. His pointed teeth shrank and became more blunt, the jagged edges smoothing out.

As he continued concentrating, the long, flowing cloak of shadows seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving his body bare and unadorned. His hands with their claw-like fingers shrank and regained their human shape, losing their elongated nails. The shimmering wings on his back slowly vanished like wisps of smoke, their ethereal presence gone.

Once the transformation was complete, Zarkus opened his eyes, feeling the unfamiliarity of this new form. It was strange, yet oddly liberating. He looked at the necromancer, awaiting his next instruction.

With empty eyes gleaming, the necromancer tilted his skull, examining Zarkus's newly shifted form. Silence stretched as he studied every detail before his jaw shifted, as though pondering a mystery. "Tell me... Have you ever truly gazed upon a human before?" His voice was like wind through a forgotten crypt, each word drawing Zarkus deeper into uncertainty.

Zarkus was taken aback by the question. "Seen a human? Of course I have," he replied, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

A dry, rattling laugh echoed from the necromancer's skeletal frame, his bony fingers tapping together. "Ah, I see it now... You wear that form well, too well," he murmured, a cold, calculating edge to his voice. "Convincing, yes... almost unnervingly so."

Zarkus frowned, unsure where the necromancer was going with this. "What do you mean, 'too convincing'?"

The necromancer drifted closer, his brittle bones creaking with every step. He peered at Zarkus's face, his empty gaze piercing despite the lack of eyes. "Fascinating... Your flesh, your features—so... precise. Flawless mimicry of a human, as if you had seen one... intimately." His voice lingered, haunted by some unspoken truth.

Zarkus felt a shiver run down his spine. The necromancer's words struck a chord of truth within him, but he couldn't understand why. "I... I've never based my appearance on a human," he protested, his voice growing shaky.

A hollow chuckle escaped the necromancer's bony jaw. "You misunderstand me, Zarkus." The mockery in his tone was palpable, a serpentine whisper in the dark. "I don't accuse you of stealing this form knowingly. No... Perhaps it slithered into your mind, something... half-forgotten. A shadow of memory you didn't know you possessed."

The voice of the necromancer grew darker, laden with suspicion. "Yet, this... replication of the human form... It troubles me. Why do you hold it so close? What secret lies beneath that flesh you wear?"

Zarkus felt a cold sweat bead on his forehead. The necromancer's questions were making him feel uneasy, as if the necromancer knew something about him that he himself wasn't aware of. "I... I don't know," he mumbled, his voice betraying his unease.

The necromancer's gaze never left Zarkus, those empty sockets filled with a malice that chilled the air. "Hmm... Something hides within you, does it not?" His voice was a slow, deliberate hiss. "Perhaps you are not as simple as you appear, Zarkus. Or perhaps..."

He closed the distance between them, his skeletal hand reaching toward Zarkus's chest as if to grasp his very soul. "Perhaps there's far more to you than even you know." His voice sank to a menacing growl, sharp and penetrating. "And I will... unravel you, little one. You cannot hide from me."

Zarkus felt the weight of the necromancer's words coil around him, pulling at the edges of his uncertainty. Fear gnawed at him, though he remained silent, unable to shake the feeling that something within him had been uncovered, something he wasn't ready to face.