The mayor’s aid flinched as the necromancer petted one of the graves. This was a bad idea, Donatella told herself. She wanted to run, but to deny a service to a Boliarin was to deny the king.

She had worked hard to get where she was. First four years in accounting school and then that exam where she had to do everything without a calculator. As if she was ever forced to do so again.

The necromancer began to sing, a guttural thing that scared all the living beings around him. It scared Donatella too, but she didn’t make so much as a step back.

The vampire looked as uneasy as she was, which was a comfort. Then the necromancer began to speak and tombstones cracked.

I am Edwin, I am no other,

Hear me and wake up from the end.

Be my eyes and ears.

Raise and have no illusions,

That I will lead you to a new life.

Then, Donatella made a step back as a green mist covered the cemetery. Animals that were in various state of decay exited their graves and a cacophony spread in the cemetery.

This is just a pet cemetery, tried to calm herself, Donatella. What damage could he do with pets? The vampire and she shared a look, and they moved closer to each other. Closer to the exit of the cemetery.

“Ever seen something like this?” Said the vampire, with a slight, nervous smile, on his face. Donatella didn’t know if he was foolish or brave at this moment. Or both.

“I have heard of Aleric Stormcrow could reanimate legions, but he is the sole Boliarin of the Tsardom of Mopia. In the Age of the Green Mist, he killed of the rest, and he does not allow for any other necromancers to take residence in Mopia. He exiles them all,” said Donatella with a shudder.

There were many stories of Aleric. He was a genius healer, some said. He was a vile wretch, more claimed. But whatever the truth was, every necromancer wanted to be like the Stormcrow. Undefeated and with an entire country as a base of operations.

Did this one fancy himself another Aleric? He still needed to sing and give commands, which was something the Stormcrow was said to not have to do in the last century or so.

But Donatella wouldn’t call this Boliarin weak. The corpses looked to be healing. Flesh knitting on half-decayed bones, feathers regrowing, fur becoming shiny.

A dog passed by Donatella. It walked wrong, favored its right side. But to someone who didn’t know that this dog had been dead, it would appear like a normal dog.

So, that begged the question, why wasn’t this Boliarin the Master of Whispers to king Valyr? Why was he even healing when his power was a handicap to him?

“Eddy is not evil. He is doing this to try to give the Hafnons a chance. No one else will.” Said the vampire, for her benefit and maybe a bit for himself. As if he needed to reassure himself.

“It is not my place to question a Boliarin,” said Donatella in the same voice she used every time she had to confront denied petitioners.

Then, before their eyes, the animals began to exit the cemetery in droves. Donatella imagined the angry pet owners, the protests that will have to be hushed, and shook her head.

If there were protests, the Hafnons will be warned that someone was spying on them. No, the entire cemetery would have to be closed for as long as the Boliarin needed it. She guessed that people would just need to start cremating their pets from now on.

“Ok, I am done,” said the necromancer. He looked chipper and there was a bounce to his step. Drunk on power, most like. “Harry, do you want to go buy the children some new books?”

Hadrian looked Edwin over. He seemed more alive, somehow. He could understand why necromancers raised the dead, then. It got their blood pumping. It brought them happiness. And then, when they lost control of their creations, what did the additional death do to them?

“Did you have to reanimate the entire cemetery?” Asked Hadrian. He stepped away from the exit and Edwin moved pass him.

“I required additional information about the state of the continent. Who really created the coughing sickness and where? What knowledge were the Hafnons hording? And, I needed to deliver a message to Aleric Stormcrow,” said Edwin. Hadrian reached out and gripped the hedge healer’s arm.

“He is dangerous and can’t stand necromancers,” said Hadrian. “Or the undead in general.”

“There are rumors he takes students. Necromancers, one and all,” said Edwin. He moved closer to Hadrian and tilted his head to the side. “A better teacher I can’t hope for.”

“To teach you how to do more of this?” Asked Hadrian as he let go of Edwin and waved his hand around the cemetery. “You don’t need to become more adept at this art.”

Hadrian all but spat out the last word. He was undead and hated every second of it. But he lacked the conviction to see his last sunrise.

“I have only used necromancy in self-defense and for the good of Duria,” said Edwin. He smiled, but at Hadrian’s stony expression, his smile soon dimmed. “If I don’t learn to control this power, it will consume me and those that I hold dear.”

Hadrian’s eyes softened at that. Of course, power for power’s sake was not Edwin’s way. And yet, there was a certain change in Edwin now. Something that freed him from responsibility and hid the consequences of him. And Hadrian disliked that.

“You have nothing to worry about.” And that is what those you have to worry about always say. Thought Hadrian. “I can control this.” Can you? And that question made Hadrian shiver. Edwin saw that and mistook it for cold. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around Hadrian’s neck.

“Maybe we can skip the shopping trip if you are cold. Come on, vampires are notoriously hard to heal. And contagious,” said Edwin in his healer voice. Hadrian looked down at the scarf.

Kind Eddy, who thought about others, had held himself from fulfilling the prophecy. But many things could happen. And when they did, what then?

Donatella stared at the two men as they walked away. She stood in the empty cemetery and stared at the cracked tombstones. Would a skull be equally easy to crack with necromancy, she wondered?