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    Yeoldebard
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Nekromancer - 34. Chapter 34

Blood poured from Jakun's hands, Anya's blood, Aofe's blood, Jeremy's blood, all mixing together in a lake that threatened to consume the catfolk.

"No… please…"

The whimper drew him toward a window that appeared in a thick black fog… a dream? Or a vision? Either way, Jakun moved, silently floating above a ground he couldn't see.

He saw a catfolk standing over a corpse, arcane words pouring from his lips. The body rose, a groan of air escaping its lips as it straightened. Jakun gasped as his mother turned to face him, her skin grey and pallid. A worm crawled out of an eye socket, wriggling into her mouth as Jakun watched in morbid fascination, unable to tear himself away from the spectacle.

His double sneered at the catfolk, blood dripping from its mouth as it walked toward the window. Jakun stumbled back as hands slammed against the window, a bang echoing through the empty space around him as he fell. The window vanished, replaced by another, this one appearing in a pool of dark liquid… beer…

"Jeremy?" he croaked, crawling toward the window.

Through the bubbled glass, he found see the cleric reaching for something, a holy symbol, a mug of beer, he couldn't tell. He could just read the human's lips, Jakun's own name on it as the cleric's hand started to crumble, flaking away into dust. A silent scream escaped Jeremy as he collapsed, exploding into a fine sand.

"Jeremy…"

And another window came into view. Anya, standing in a chamber, in the middle of an arcane symbol on the floor. Another double of Jakun stood on the outside, a shadowy figure on the other side, the two chanting. The werewolf suddenly lurched, energy passing through her, then leaching out of her until she was nothing.

Jakun closed his eyes, panicking. This had to be a dream. This wasn't real… he needed to wake up.

A figure rose behind him, an almost masculine woman with a mask over her face. She stared expressionless at the amurrun, or maybe it was hidden. Either way, Jakun had no idea who she was, or what she was thinking.

"Is this the end…?" he shivered. "I'm not done…"

"It is only the end if you decide it is. There is one path out. You have drawn Pharasma's gaze, your reckless summoning of undeath makes her most displeased. You will cease your actions. Or you will suffer the consequences. As will your friends."

The psychopomp stared at the cat, Jakun looking away in fright.

"I can't. I need to avenge my mother."

"Her soul is in the Boneyard, lost and wandering. We are searching for her still. The cleric did well in burning her, but the soul is still attached to her corpse. It will be rectified. You have done your part in saving your mother, there is nothing else for you."

"But Loran-"

"Loran is not your concern. Forget him, he will drive you to ruin," the woman said firmly. "Be more afraid of the Lady of Graves. You carry the stench of undeath, and she finds the taint most… displeasing. You would do well to cleanse yourself in her temple before you arrive before her in death."

She turned, pointing toward a large ebon door, and then toward a large grey stone door.

"You will make your choice now. Death, or life. This is your only warning. If you continue down your path, you will be destroyed, your soul either crushed or sent to wander for eternity, with no guide willing to touch you. Your companion, the werewolf, is an abomination to us. But she will be allowed to remain to guide you, so long as you cure her spirit of her undeath."

Jakun took a stumbling step toward the doors, reaching for the black door. He paused, thinking, before reaching for the grey.

"I'm not done. I will hunt him down again and end him."

"Then you consign your companions to death and suffering," the psychopomp said. "May the other gods have mercy on you for your decision, for Pharasma will have none."

The door opened with a loud scrape, Jakun falling through with a startled cry.

His eyes flew open suddenly, a croaking gasp leaving him. The catfolk sat up on the stone floor, eyes taking in the two bodies beside him and the embers burning in the hearth nearby. A common room, two silver for the night and the best the tavern had to offer.

'What happened?' Anya demanded. 'Where were you? I couldn't feel you.'

'I… I don't know… but a follower of Pharasma was there…"

'The god of death? Then…'

'She knows what we plan. And she wants us to stop.'

'Then we have another enemy.'

"You would make a god our enemy?" Jeremy hissed out loud, Anya forming in front of him.

The werewolf scowled at the cat, her dead eyes boring into his.

"I have been an enemy of Pharasma all my existence. She is all bark, and her servants her bite. They are easily dealt with, so long as you keep them away from fire."

Jakun shuddered at the thought, not wanting to burn at a stake. A chill passed through him, his eyes making out a ghost wandering through the wall.

"We have a listener," he muttered.

Anya waved it off.

"Undead spirit. It will keep quiet."

Shaking his head, Jakun pulled out his book, searching quietly through the pages.

"How does one purify their soul?"

"Ask Jeremy. Though he'd probably just drown your sins in drink," Anya scoffed.

"At least it would be readily available," Jakun shrugged, his finger running through a spell. "Anya… if we do this… are you sure you will survive?"

"Of course. I'm already dead, there isn't much that can kill me again," the werewolf scoffed.

"That… dream, or whatever-"

"Whatever you saw was just Pharasma trying to get to you. Don't let her win," Anya said firmly.

Jakun sighed, continuing with his spell as Amnor Sen stirred nearby. The paladin sat up slowly, his back popping loudly after a night on a stone floor.

"Morning kitten. Are you working on another scroll?"

Jakun shook his head.

"I don't know that I will be making a lot of scrolls in the foreseeable future," he admitted. "But if you have wands, I can work on them for you instead."

"We'll see what we can do in Alkenstar. I don't want to do much on the road," Amnor Sen shrugged.

The catfolk nodded, before losing himself in his book. He needed to protect himself.

Copyright © 2020 Yeoldebard; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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