One storyteller - who harbors the feeling of uselessness, searching for a purpose to feel somewhat worthy.
One Necromancer - who hides from his fate and identity, wearing a thick mask as he is granted a second chance at life.
One mastermind - who li...
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Let me tell you of the Tale of the Forbidden Affair: a series of events shrouded with bloodshed and broken hearts, misery and despair, the storyteller began, explaining to her friends with gleaming eyes.
It all began on a chilly night in December, merely a century ago when King Eliath Vesper was only a young boy. He had wandered down to the village that night, mourning and teary-eyed. His dear grandmother had just passed away earlier that day, and he had never felt so lost.
As he dragged his feet through the streets of Wispern, he found another boy, just around his age, crouched on the ground with an open hand in front of him; a carcass laid underneath. Eliath watched, holding his breath, as the stranger began to gently lift his hand, causing the dead animal under him to also lift slowly. Its skin began to shift, the crooked claws clenched, the fur bristled.
Then it breathed.
And so did Eliath.
The stranger smiled and knelt back as the corporeal animal pounced and danced around him.
Who are you? Eliath had thought to himself.
But he shouldn't have wondered; he should've left instead.
He should've walked away from the strange boy who had moved a dead animal on the side of the road.
But his aching heart—the one that longed to hear from his dead grandmother—made him stay rooted to the spot and watch the boy who admired the dead animal dancing.
Just then, the boy turned his head and caught Eliath's eyes. His hand immediately snapped to his side, causing the hopping animal to fall to the ground—dead again, unmoving.
"Who are you?" Eliath breathed the question to life.
The boy stood up, his guard automatically building around him like a fortress. 'Um—'
'You're a Necromancer, right?' Eliath pushed, moving forward with excitement slowly welding up in his chest.
