The Good Ones: The Dead.

Chapter 2.

I see a blonde girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old, staring right at me while she floats a few feet off the ground. Eyebrows raised and hands on her hips, and a smile hinting that she's enjoying the sudden turn of events. Entertained even.

She's also enjoying the fact that I'm in
massive amounts of pain right now.

Searing pain flares up on my chest, I feel bruises and cuts in a ton of different places. I also know that a few bones may have been injured during my fall.

I am in seriously no condition to move anytime soon.

I try anyway and manage to move an inch in front of the wall I was propped up against. I begin screaming in pain afterwards, in a pitch 3-5 octaves higher than my own.

I end up gasping for air.

"A little help would be appreciated, Hazel. " I croak.

She only giggles a bit more and shakes her head at me.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'NO'?!" I ask, clearly confused and pained.

She rolls her eyes and points at my chest.

The white sigil that blasted me minutes ago could now be seen on my chest, still blazing.

I look back at Hazel, and she mouths something but its clearly inaudible to me.

I attempt to feel the link I have with her and find it to be severed, gone even. I'm left with a burning pain on my chest instead.

Huh. A trap sigil that breaks down any link spells and any form of immediately-active binding? Ingenious.

Quick Necromancy lesson, every spirit, ghost or ghoul we summon is connected to us through the Binding of Cimitere. This is the binding that allows us to communicate, understand and even control the dead.

Thing is, Banshees such as Hazel are reliant on auditory variables to be effective. Ordinarily, she should be able to help me by singing something.

But since I can't hear her without the Binding, the only thing she'll be capable of doing is shredding my eardrums in half. I also can't summon anything else. Great.

I immediately begin working by working my injuries on my own, no use trying to fight a battle when I can't even stand up straight. This is going to take a while longer than a Banshee's health cry though.

Midway through my healing spell, maybe a good 5 minutes in, I see streaks of violet energy and blasts of fires flashing in the distant part of the station. Screaming and chanting can heard too.

Liz and Sid are probably fighting some guys again and by the looks of it, they're panicking.

"Hazel, help them. Hurry." I say.

Surprised at the command, Hazel shakes her head more seriously this time. She mouths: NOT SAFE.

"Really? You've faced 30 foot stone dragons and you're scared of a few mages?" I retort.

She sticks her tongue out at me. She then mouths: "YOU'RE" NOT SAFE.

How endearing it is that a ghost child thinks the Necromancer that created her can't defend himself.

It's almost touching and insulting all at the same time.

"I'll be fine! Just go!" I say and she flies off begrudgingly to the direction of the crossfire.

Now, to focus on my current situation.

My wounds are almost done setting and I lessen the other pains by using a simple Dulling Spell. Without the pain or the idea of me dying, I begin focusing on the sigil, which was still burning brightly on my chest.

Quick Sigil-Craft Fact, you know a particular sigil sucks when a tiny part of it can be used to blast the whole thing apart.

Sigil-Crafting is and will always be one of the more dangerously unpredictable crafts in the world.

The sigil on me was heavily reminiscent of a pentacle, probably because Necromantic Arts always counteracted Thaumaturgical symbols and practices, it works vice-versa. Whoever made this combined the power of the Christian Pentacle and altered it a bit to specifically counteract the Binding of Cimitere.

Now, this sigil was clearly made in a hurry. You would know since I found a small hole in this floating shape of raw energy, just waiting to be broken by a small trickle of my awesome Necromantic juices.

Hah.

The blasts from Liz's and Sid's area get louder and echo through the station even more. I need to help out, fast.

I take a deep breath in, hoping that the sigil doesn't explode in the process of me trying to diffuse it like a bomb-stopper.

It doesn't. Luckily.

But I'd take the sigil back rather than face the huge figure who just appeared right in front of me.

"Great job, Alcelle. The Necromancers I've fought in the past were a little less smarter than you are now.

Too bad your fate is bound to end up just like theirs."

Shit. Hazel, come back!