The name given to me by my parents was Samuel but they always called me Sami. Because of my childish-looking face. Even in my twenties, I was mistaken as a teenager. I was born to a rich family Morosa. 

The family was known for raising many doctors and for running a funeral home. For generations, their business was blooming. Any aristocrat who was very ill came to doctors of the Morosa family. The operations and medicine were never paid for immediately. The reason why the Morosa family was the last option was because of their contracts. Aristocrats would be treated if they agreed to give them fifty percent of their riches after the death of the treated Aristocrat. 

Some thought that this was a scam. That in reality they were making sure the aristocrats die and they’ll take the money. Some had no other options and chose that path. They all were cured. Most of them lived for ten more years than dying from natural causes. But that wasn’t true. It was made to look like a natural cause. Morosa family was a family with a long history of witchcraft and necromancy. Two aristocrats died suddenly after gaining a large amount of riches. All that were “Cured”, their lives were in the hands of the Morosa family. 

Until my thirteen birthday, I wasn’t aware of that fact. On the day of my birthday, my father explained that to me. This was the start of my lessons of witchcraft and necromancy. A month after that my sister was born. I wasn’t a single child anymore. In time I understood the horrific nature of necromancy. I lived with the fact that my little sister would be forced into that world too. The longer I studied the more I understood how evil that powers are. 

One day a desperate father from a poor family asked us to help cure his child. He heard how the payment works and wanted to do it. The Family denied him. He was too poor for the contract. The man left furious and cursed us in grief. 

Six years later.

One of my pieces of training was witchcraft in the forest near our mansion. It was the only place where both of those magic crafts were connected to nature in one way or another. While me and father were training in the forest a man with a gun approached us. He looked to be a huntsman. Once he got close my father recognized him. It was the poor man who asked for help. He tried to kill my father but with the help of witchcraft, he sunk that man into the ground and buried him alive.

What we didn’t know at the time was that he wasn’t hunting alone. Three men watched this happen. They were witnesses. The next night I heard screams and shouts from the front of our mansion. Once I looked out of the window I saw a hundred men with torches and weapons. 

“Witchcraft!”; “Evil magic!”; “Sorcerers!”; “Burn them!” Shouted the angry crowd.

Our crowds tried to do something about it but they ended up dead. The crowd deemed them traitors to the society. They were ready to walk into our grounds but the guards suddenly rose and began attacking them. Then I saw my father by the gate. He resurrected them. But it was too much for them. Even if they were undead. Someone threw a brick over the fence and crushed my father's head with it. 

The only option left was to escape. Once I left my room I heard my mother's last scream. My sister was the only one left. I barged into her room and picked her up. She woke up immediately. She was asking me what was happening but I didn’t answer. I was too focused on escaping. There was only one route of escape. By the garden and into the forest. I heard people in our home. They were downstairs. I hesitated for a bit but then ran down the stairs. Because of that hesitation, one man was already by the stairs. He swung his rusty knife at me. Unfortunately, he scratched my sister's mouth with it. It was a small wound but she was just a child. 

The man called everyone and told them where we went. The whole crowd moved from our house to the forest. Looking for us. Hunting us like we are animals. A prey. 

I found a cave on the hill. We had to go deep so they wouldn’t hear my sister crying. I tried to calm her down but it was too painful. I want to heal her but my father hasn’t taught me that yet. No matter what I did she couldn’t stop crying. It was understandable. After all, she is just a child. And that almost got us killed.

One man was able to find us. If not for my sister's reaction I wouldn’t know and would get stabbed in the back. I was able to turn around and spray toxic gas at him. He died in agony and he was the first person I ever killed. For the rest of the night, we were silent but we couldn’t sleep. 

In the morning I noticed that my sister was sweating and she had a high fever. And once again I was lacking the ability to heal. But my father fought that the spells for killing would be needed more. I needed to get her to the doctor but the people might have recognized me. With a knife, I cut my and my sister’s hair. Torn off any fancy parts of our clothing and left for the city. 

First, we went to one of the well-known doctors. The woman in the reception didn’t let us in and called us peasants. No matter how much I proved to her that we are from a rich family. She called me a liar. With no more options left, I tried a local doctor but once we entered his room I immediately could tell how behind those local doctors were. He didn’t have any good medicine and the one he gave us didn’t work… 

Her sickens wasn’t the only problem. We were hungry. One whole day without eating. An empty stomach won’t cure her. I had to resort to stealing. I ran past the bakery and grabbed a piece of bread but I didn’t know how weak I was. The man was able to catch me and beat me for thievery. One man saw me and took pity. He gave me half of his bread. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t help my sister. She died the next night. My only family. I was left miserable and lay right by her dead body. Hoping she will rise from the dead. Everyone just watched and walked away. Except for one person. The same man who gave me a peace of bread. He helped me give my sister a proper burial. He helped me find a job and for some time I lived inside his house. He was a poor worker but he was kind. He understood me well because he also lived through the pain of losing a loved one. His wife died and he was left with his daughter. I don’t know if it’s because of her age but she resembled my sister. After a year I was able to find my own home… But I still visited my best friend… and his daughter… 

One day I gathered all my courage to go back to my home mansion. It was almost completely burned down… Nothing of value was left except for the books. After all… Those peasants don’t know how to read. Many books were burned with the building but a few of them were left. Only two books were in good shape. Basics for witchcraft and advanced necromantic techniques. I read them at night after work. 

One day out of nowhere our employer decided to lower our payment significantly. He explained that this is for only a short time and after that, we’ll have double the amount we had last time. Everyone believed that except me. No matter how much I tried to explain that to the rest of the workers, they ignored me. Even my friend… He said, “Just wait a little bit”. I was a fool to listen to him. I waited and waited. Even after four months, nothing changed. 

The situation became so dire that I had to resort to stealing once again. That one time someone tried to steal the same thing I wanted. I saw his face. It was my dear friend. We both were in the same situation. We began cooperating. Stealing together. One time we decided to rob our boss while he was away. He was supposed to be away for a week. Apparently, it was a lie because while we were getting to his safe he came back. I was eager to get that money but my FRIEND decided to ditch me. I escaped with some of the money but the boss saw me. I no longer could go back. Once again I went into hiding. 

After two months of silence, workers began to protest. My FRIEND was one of those workers. They planned to march through the streets to the companies and prevent them from operating. I went with them undercover. Watching my FRIEND’s back. I had a great plan. I found an interesting page in my book. There was a chance for me to get my sister back… All I needed was a suited host and then prepare a ritual. His daughter was a perfect fit for that job. The police gathered to stop the protestors and my FRIEND was in front of them all. The tension rose as both sides came closer to each other. I pushed my FRIEND and the police. They shot him and killed him. Unfortunately, the bullet went through and hit me. 

I woke up later under the rubble. The street was completely destroyed and many people were dead. I thought that I survived but I was mistaken. I died. I was dead… but I was there. Still walking on the ground. I had a chance to bring my sister back… My sister… which name I forgot…