vivimancer’s request

“because it’s forbidden,” he guessed. “too dangerous. turn my brain to pasta? risk my soul?”

“no. i simply do not know how to be a necromancer,” she explained. “if i wish to interact with the dead i turn left and say hello.”

“a joke? that’s new. so then, how is it you need me to tell you where they’re taking a corpse?”

for a long moment Pob watched his frowning reflection. in the mirror she rolled his eyes. “limitations,” her voice explained, stressing each syllable.

“right.”

“no matter your regret, you are compelled, mage. you will give his last rights.”

Puppet

There was a crater beside the road. An honest to goodness smouldering scar ringed with rather toasted looking scorched earth. Pobedonostsev gawked right along with the rest of them.

“Be impressed,” the shade purred. one spectral arm was still steaming slightly.

Ganzel walked unseeing through the spirit. “That was great, Pob!” he crowed.

Bree agreed, nodding.

“Weeell,” he said, squirming with uncertain modesty. “I am, after all, a black mage, and–”

“I dismiss you, pet,” whispered the vivimancer,  fading. “For now.”

Just then dark riders appeared on the north hill. They had seen smoke.

“…and, spirits below!  I’m tired, now!”