"You want to do what?"
He shrugged almost carelessly. "Raise a powerful queen from the dead."
"She died millennia ago. Most necromancers can only raise people from centuries ago at most."
The necromancer merely laughed it off. "The difference between them and me is that I dare to live a little."
The ritual itself was relatively easy, but raising someone that had been dead for this long... It required a disproportionate amount of blood, and he felt a bit weak when he was done.
For a second, he thought it had all been worth it when he saw the figure of the queen emerge from the mists.
Then she grinned maliciously, and he thought better of it.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
