They were in the academy’s dining hall. Mary had brought them up to date on everything, and as they enjoyed fruit for dessert, she posed the question that had been troubling her since her visit to Plinks.

  “Could you communicate with Tom to see if he’s the blacksmith’s apprentice?”

  Ronan, thoughtful, nodded. It took him a few seconds to answer.

  “From the timeline you’ve given me, it’s possible. Especially since Joe and Bob’s deaths weren’t as recent as Tom’s.”

  “What do you mean?” Bianca interjected, absentmindedly playing with her fork and the fruit pieces, possibly without realizing it, as she listened with renewed interest.

  Mary was of the opinion that Bianca loved anything related to magic, masteries, stats, and leveling up. She might be bored looking at dresses in a store, but the moment you talked to her about a spell, her eyes would light up with enthusiasm.

  No wonder she had stopped eating to learn something new about necromancy, even though it was magic she had no affinity for and therefore couldn’t cast unless she used an object or artifact.

  “When a body dies, the soul doesn’t linger in this world for long,” Ronan clarified. “A few hours, or even less, is normal. Once the soul has left, it can no longer be retrieved.”

  Mary felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She didn’t know where souls went. Maybe to the gods—the same ones who had forbidden them to worship them. Or maybe, because of that, they were lost in the void. Or they reincarnated.

  She sighed.

  It was hard to say, and there were no priests to ask.

  “However,” Ronan continued explaining, “sometimes they stay longer. When death has been violent or they harbor strong emotions, they cling to this world and refuse to leave. It can be feelings of hatred or love—the most extreme ones. Some feel the need to protect a loved one left defenseless by their death. More often, some cry out for vengeance for what was done to them in life. Joe and Bob, when I arrived at the academy and felt death calling me, had been dead for weeks.”

  “You can feel death?” Bianca asked, now setting down her fork entirely and resting her arms on the table, leaning toward the boy sitting across from her to listen better.

  “I can sense where bones or corpses are. It’s not a spell, more of a passive ability, inherent to a high affinity for darkness.” Bianca nodded, and Mary thought it made sense, as only they could practice necromancy. “The closer the moment of death, the stronger I feel it. It’s as if something tells me that in a certain direction, there are bodies. If the souls are still there, the sensation is even stronger. The number of corpses, their origin, all vary the intensity. I could try to explain it as if it were a new sense, and just as smell perceives different scents, I can detect where death is or has been.”

  “And where will it be?”

  “I’m afraid, my lady, that’s beyond my abilities. I don’t think darkness magic can see the future.”

  “And do you think Tom could be the apprentice? If so, we could ask him who killed him,” Mary interjected.

  Bianca looked at her for a moment and seemed to remember she was eating. She speared a couple of pieces of fruit and put them in her mouth.

  “Of course. He’s in my room, in the closet. Come with me when we’re done eating,” he answered without much thought.

  Mary, however, felt slightly flustered upon hearing about his room. Bianca quickly intervened.

  “And here I thought we’d already established no going into each other’s rooms…” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to them. Then she raised her voice to a normal conversational tone. “No, Ronan. No girl is going to your room, or else rumors will start. Better if we wait for you in the library, and you bring Tom. If he can write, he writes. If not, then have him send you those images you say you communicate with them through.”

  Mary turned beet red at the mention of rumors. There had already been some between Bianca and Ronan. She understood it for Ronan, as he had spent most of his life locked in a basement. But Bianca?

  She really didn’t understand how a count’s daughter could sometimes be so indifferent to conventions and social norms. That blow to the head she had taken must have left lasting effects. Good thing she planned to heal her as soon as her healing spell leveled up enough.

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  “Then let’s go. Finish your dessert quickly—I’m dying of curiosity. Your mission, Mary, is getting more and more interesting.”

  They followed her lead, and twenty minutes later, they were all in the library, seated at a table with Tom, parchment, a quill, and an inkwell.

  A group of students, upon seeing them, moved to the farthest table. Mary watched them with sadness, resolving that once the investigation was over, she would talk to them. She didn’t want them to keep avoiding Ronan like this. Was it possible that those born with a darkness affinity turned evil because of how people treated them?

  Her mother had always advised her that if she told her little sister, who was a bit clumsy in the kitchen, that she was bad at cooking, she would never learn to do it well. So if people distanced themselves from those with a darkness affinity as if they had the plague—or worse, treated them like Ronan’s parents had—weren’t they the ones provoking them to turn evil?

  Her thoughtful gaze settled on Ronan.

  The boy was sitting next to Tom, placing a hand on his arm as if offering support for the moments of his past life that he was about to relive. At the same time, he seemed to ignore the students watching them from the corner of their eyes and whispering.

  “Are you okay, Mary?” Ronan asked, noticing that she had been staring at him almost without blinking.

  She flushed, as if he had caught her doing something she shouldn’t have.

  She really wished she didn’t blush so easily.

  “Yes, excuse me.”

  “For you, as for my lady, there’s never anything to apologize for.”

  “Come on, Ronan, let’s begin. Don’t confuse Mary with your strange way of talking—she’s too impressionable.”

  “You think I’m impressionable?”

  “Yes. Light magic.” Bianca winked at her.

  At that, Mary didn’t respond.

  Ronan questioned Tom, and after a few moments, handed him the writing instruments.

  “Yes, it’s him. He showed me a memory of himself, just as he was when I found his body, working in a forge,” he told his two friends as the skeleton took up the quill.

  “Oh, I’m sorry for what was done to you, Tom. Who murdered you?” Mary asked.

  The skeleton dragged the quill across the parchment with far less skill than Joe.

  Noble young man. Yellow-green colors.

  Those were the colors of the baronet.

  “Why?”

  I saw him kinaping daughte baker.

  It was clear he didn’t know how to write well.

  That didn’t matter. Mary sighed, but not because of that. Rather, because it was a shame that the words of a dead man didn’t serve as evidence.

  The reason was simple: a corpse was a being without memories, endowed with very basic intelligence, and its necromancer master could command it to manifest anything he wanted.

  That a necromancer could retain a soul and bind it to bones—that was something never seen before. Something unique to Ronan. Something Mary had recently discovered, and if he didn’t want to reveal it, it wasn’t her place to do so.

  “Then, Tom, you too shall be avenged,” Ronan told him in a neutral tone that made Mary look at him.

  “We seek justice, Ronan,” she reminded him.

  “Of course.”

  Mary didn’t want to dwell on her friend’s concept of justice, as it brought her mind back to the tavern the previous day, where she had felt so miserable. She focused on the light. She would teach him the right path. She didn’t want her friend to take a road that would lead him away from her. She didn’t want Cedric’s corruption to stain his soul.

  What Mary didn’t yet understand, at eighteen years old, coming from a happy and peaceful childhood and adolescence, was that life didn’t always respect the plans one had for it.

  That it wasn’t simple.

  Theodore had coordinated with the soldiers of Solstar. They had access to a messenger mage, who immediately sent word of the situation to the capital of the marquisate. The high-level spell condensed air mana into the form of a messenger bird, which was then given the words of the message. The bird flew faster than the wind and, within minutes, reached its destination: the messenger to whom the mage had directed the spell.

  It was a spell that could only be sent to someone the caster had previously seen. If the recipient was a mage who mastered the same spell, he could make the bird linger longer, wait before delivering the message, or even repeat it if needed. However, if the spell was directed at someone without such magic, the bird would simply deliver its message upon arrival and then vanish.

  That was why messengers across the kingdom held annual conventions—to meet new arrivals and ensure they knew whom they might need to send messages to and where they were located.

  There weren’t many of them, fewer than twenty. The high nobility usually had one stationed in their territories’ capitals. Solstar, as the city of the royal academy, had one as well.

  Theodore didn’t have to wait long before his father’s response arrived through a translucent-winged bird that flew in through the wide window of the communications room. The messenger mage used his magic to make the bird wait before delivering its message. Since both the commanding officer and Theodore were already present, he asked if they wished to hear it immediately.

  They agreed.

  “I leave my son, Theodore Dravenholt, in charge of this matter. Support him with whatever troops he requires,” were the words spoken by the bird in the marquis’s voice.

  The officer and Theodore withdrew to another room to discuss their strategy.

  The sale, according to the information Mary had found, was to take place at one in the morning. Several hours before, the soldiers were already positioned in their hiding spots, waiting to catch baronet Thornspire red-handed. The plan was simple: as soon as he sold the girls, they would intervene and arrest everyone.

  The exchange was to happen inside the farmhouse, where the former owners had once lived. The soldiers, along with the officer under Theodore’s command, had buried themselves just outside, surrounding the building. Theodore had hidden inside. Mary, Ronan, Joe, Bob, Tom, and Eda were positioned farther away, in a safer spot—the barn, about two hundred meters from the house.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The barn was a deteriorated structure with two floors. Following Theodore’s instructions, his friends climbed to the upper level, removed the ladder to cut off access, and hid. The roof was half-collapsed, with massive holes where the evening light poured through. The upper floor was a mess of torn grain sacks, broken wooden planks, and dust. To ensure they remained hidden, in addition to avoiding any visible spots from below, Theodore cast an illusion spell to conceal them.

  The skeletons were covered in leather clothing, gloves, and hooded cloaks. Eda, despite spending time with them, had no idea that the love of her life was, quite literally, undead and sitting right beside her.

  As for Bianca, she hadn’t come. She would have loved to, but she had told Mary that growing stronger was important. Mary thought she was stressing too much over the games they wouldn’t even be able to participate in until their third year at the academy. She reminded her not to forget to rest now and then.

  And so, there they were. Waiting. The hours passed far too slowly for Mary’s liking, as she could feel Eda’s distress over whether her daughter would be among the rescued girls or… dead.

  She refused to think about how she might have perished, what suffering she might have endured in the process, or if she had called out for a mother who, to her, had never come to the rescue.

  She refused.

  Because she knew that if she did, she would break down crying. If Eda could be strong, Mary could focus on the girls they could save.

  Eventually, the buyers arrived—a merchant and seven bodyguards. They entered the farmhouse and searched it, as well as the surrounding area, including the barn. They had arrived ahead of schedule. Even so, night had already fallen. They didn’t detect the soldiers hidden in shallow holes covered with wooden boards and dirt. Nor did they notice Mary’s group. Unable to access the barn’s upper floor, they merely looked up with their torches, confirming it appeared empty and abandoned.

  An hour past midnight, a small caravan approached, consisting of Tharion soldiers on horseback, a carriage, and several hay carts.

  Cedric stepped out of the carriage, and from beneath the hay, they pulled out nearly twenty small girls, none older than nine, bound and gagged.

  Luckily for Mary, she was far enough away not to see them clearly, let alone notice that none of them were crying. Their tears had dried days ago.

  The raid and rescue operation was swift and clean. Or so it seemed at first.

  As soon as he heard the exchange—bags of gold changing hands—Theodore gave the signal. The army officer, buried on the other side of the wall from Theodore’s hiding spot, repeated it in a louder voice. Instantly, almost as one, the soldiers and their leader rose from their hiding places, pushing away wooden planks and emerging from the ground as if they were the dead, bursting from their coffins with a surge of strength, sending dirt flying.

  They had positioned themselves around the building—forty men and their officer. Some remained covering every possible exit, whether a window or a back door, while the rest stormed inside, taking advantage of the element of surprise.

  Theodore had been inside the entire time, camouflaged with his water magic in an adjacent room.

  At his shout, the merchant’s men drew their weapons. Two charged at him, while the rest surrounded their employer, unsure of exactly what they were defending him from. Soon, the soldiers poured in, and the fight began. Cedric reacted quickly, ordering his men to join the fray—except for three, whom he commanded to follow him.

  While Theodore fired ice stakes at the two attackers, Cedric fled toward the kitchen’s back door. Soldiers were stationed there, who engaged the three men following the baronet while he slipped past them.

  Before his attackers could reach him in melee, Theodore froze their legs and dashed toward the main hall, where the bulk of the battle and the girls were.

  Meanwhile, Cedric believed he had escaped, running down the path that led away from the farmhouse, heading toward the barn.

  Mary and the others had already replaced the ladder and descended to the ground floor. Eda had rushed toward the soldiers, eager to reach the children as soon as possible.

  Since she had run to the front door, she hadn’t encountered Cedric.

  Joe saw him emerge from the kitchen door and readied his bow. He prepared to fire. Mary, anticipating this, placed a hand on his arm.

  “No. We want him alive. He must be judged and punished.”

  Joe stopped and turned his skeletal, hooded head toward Ronan.

  “A single arrow would be mercy for him—and justice for Bob and Joe.”

  “An arrow in the back of a fleeing man brings you closer to becoming someone like him.”

  While they debated, the baronet was closing in on the barn.

  “Ronan, Joe, please,” Mary pleaded.

  Just as she could see his darkness, Ronan could see her light. At that moment, it shone brightly.

  “Joe, wait,” he said. “We will capture him.”

  Mary smiled, but they didn’t see it—they were already moving to intercept him.

  Ronan was not a warrior. His skeletons, however, were fast and strong. Joe didn’t lower his bow, but Tom and Bob rushed toward Cedric as he passed in front of the barn. The baronet drew a dagger and defended himself against what he could only sense were two undead blocking his path. They dodged a couple of his slashes and immobilized him, each grabbing one of his arms.

  Ronan approached, and so did Mary—she wouldn’t feel at ease until she saw him captured and handed over to the soldiers. Her concern wasn’t for the criminal’s safety but for her friend’s kindness.

  “Tie him up,” Ronan ordered, and Mary relaxed.

  One of the skeletons, the one holding the arm with the weapon, twisted it behind Cedric’s back and attempted to take the dagger away. The other, still gripping the baronet’s other arm with one hand, reached into a pocket in its cloak for a rope.

  Then Cedric, who had lowered his head to conceal his lips, finished murmuring something, and both skeletons froze in place. Ronan pulled out his mace and charged at him, but Cedric had already freed himself, grabbed the nearby Mary by the hair, yanked her down, and pressed his knife against her pale throat.

  “You’re going to let me go, or I’ll kill her,” he said, beginning to move slowly, dragging her along.

  He had also wrapped his other arm around her chest to keep her restrained.

  Frightened, the young woman followed his lead, realizing that one wrong step could mean ending up with a slit throat.

  The two skeletons quickly broke free from the spell. As undead, they had some resistance to paralysis. Bob was aiming straight at Cedric’s forehead, right between the eyes, but he didn’t dare fire without a direct order. Ronan was furious. This filth dared to lay hands on Mary and threaten her.

  Despite her predicament, she managed to see the death sentence in her friend’s eyes and whispered:

  “Ronan, no.”

  Hearing her, Cedric grinned triumphantly. They would let him go—they wouldn’t want to see their precious friend bleed out.

  But Cedric wasn’t the only one with magic. Nor was he the only one who could conceal his lips—Ronan had his hood.

  Moreover, with his level of magic, he barely needed to speak.

  “Exhaust, rise,” he whispered after a few seconds of preparation.

  Immediately, the baronet felt his strength leave him, while an intense pain in his stomach forced him to clutch it with both hands.

  Mary felt the blade slipping down her neck, cutting her, though not too deeply.

  Bob had mentally received his master’s order to save Mary. He fired. An arrow pierced the exact center of Cedric’s forehead, and the baronet began to collapse.

  The young woman, now free, quickly stepped away.

  “Heal,” she cast on herself, and immediately, the delicate skin of her neck closed up, stopping the bleeding.

  Ronan ran toward her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, let me heal him.” She pointed to her attacker.

  “He’s dead. Bob never misses, especially at this distance.”

  “I…” Mary was horrified, even more so when she saw tiny spines emerging from the baronet’s mouth.

  “Relax, it’s just leftovers from his fish dinner. He was going to kill you—he would have done it once he escaped with you. I weakened him with exhaust and ordered Bob to fire so he wouldn’t cut your throat before dying.”

  “Ronan,” Mary sobbed violently, “now you, you…”

  “I wasn’t going to kill him, Mary. I was going to tie him up, as you asked. But if your life is in danger, if it’s him or you, I know what to do,” he spoke with passion, but not rage or fury—only the determination necessary to protect those he cared about.

  The young woman looked at him through her tears. She feared seeing corruption spreading from her friend’s heart—especially if it was because of her. She lifted her eyes and looked at him.

  She saw him as always—dark, but not evil.

  She blinked.

  Was it just her tears making her see differently?

  No…

  He was still himself. Protecting her had saved him. A wave of immense relief washed over her, and she hugged him tightly, sobbing even harder.

  “You’re still you. The reason you killed him is righteous and good to you,” she told him in a trembling voice.

  Ronan seemed unsure of what to do, as if he had never been hugged before. At first, he tensed up slightly, and the young woman didn’t even notice. Slowly, he relaxed. Mary didn’t seem to expect anything from him other than to listen, so he wrapped his arms around her gently and let her cry it out while he smiled.

  “Mary, you shouldn’t worry about such nonsense. Of course, I’m still me.”

  “It’s not nonsense. If I had killed him, even if it was to save you, I would have stopped being me.”

  “You need to be protected, Mary. You and Bianca have an affinity that makes you too good for this world.”

  She pulled away slightly and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

  “But you also need to be protected. So you don’t turn into someone like Cedric.”

  “Don’t worry, Mary, it’s all right. In fact, look,” he gestured toward Bob. “Bob is happy. His brother too.”

  “Oh, Eda,” she suddenly remembered. “I need to go see if she found her daughter.”

  “Let’s go, I’ll come with you,” he let her go, and she did the same.

  They walked together toward the main farmhouse, Mary leaning slightly on Ronan as she was still emotionally shaken.

  Ronan handed her a handkerchief, and she took it to wipe her face.

  Bob and Joe gave their master a salute—Joe’s was a formal military one, while Bob’s was an imitation of his brother’s.

  “I’m glad you’re at peace now,” Ronan told them as he passed by with Mary.

  “And will you release them?” she asked.

  Though she already knew the answer.

  “They are my friends. They’ve grown stronger. It will hurt to lose them, but I will if that’s what they want.”

  Mary saw them listening—and shaking their heads. She smiled.

  When they reached the building, Theodore approached them, looking worried.

  “I’m fine, it’s nothing,” Mary reassured him.

  The water mage noticed how she was leaning on Ronan. He seemed about to say something, but when he saw her red-rimmed eyes, he remained silent.

  Mary entered the building. The soldiers had captured the kidnappers and the buyers. There were wounded on both sides but no fatalities. There was also a group of little girls, most of them apathetic—though a few had realized they had been rescued and had begun crying, calling for their mothers.

  Eda was embracing one of the smallest girls tightly, refusing to let go. Not even when Mary stepped away from Ronan to approach her.

  “Is she your daughter? Is she okay?”

  “Oh, Mary, thank you so much. It looks like they didn’t harm her—or any of the girls,” she replied, her voice breaking with emotion, still holding her daughter close.

  “I’m really glad,” Mary said sincerely. “I wanted that man to be captured and judged, but he took me hostage, and Ronan’s friends had to kill him.”

  That made Eda lift her head to look at Mary.

  “Good. Now we can sleep peacefully—me, the girls, and their families. Though I would have liked… never mind.”

  Mary could see she was still furious with the baronet, but the joy of having her daughter back would help her heal. With her magic, she couldn’t cure that kind of wound. At least, not yet.

  Then, she felt there was something else she had to do.

  “Come, both of you, please,” she requested.

  The woman picked up Emmy in her arms and gestured to Mary to show she would follow. Mary saw a little head of curly brown hair and huge eyes looking at her nervously. She smiled at her and started walking toward the barn.

  When they returned to where Joe and Bob were, Ronan, who had followed them, watched his friend thoughtfully. Mary approached Bob, placed a hand on his arm, and said:

  “It’s your moment. Decide if you want to tell her.”

  “Decide what?” Eda asked, confused.

  A minute passed with no one answering her. Mary had an excuse ready in case Bob decided to remain silent. In the end, he communicated with Ronan through their bond, and the necromancer spoke softly:

  “Go ahead, Mary. Tell her.”

  There was no one else nearby, but even so, Mary led them inside the barn, where they would be less likely to be disturbed. She asked Eda to leave Emmy outside with Tom. It took some convincing before the woman agreed, but Mary managed by telling her that it was important—something she should judge first before deciding if Emmy should know.

  “Eda, what do you know about souls and death?” Mary asked once it was just the two of them, Joe, Bob, and Ronan.

  “They used to go to heaven. Now, we don’t know,” the woman answered, puzzled.

  Mary looked at her serenely and smiled.

  “What would you say if you could see your husband again—but with a different body?”

  “My husband is dead. Don’t joke about that.”

  “Your husband died. But he was found by a special necromancer, one with great power, who was able to anchor his soul to his body.”

  Eda stared at Mary as if she were playing a cruel trick on her. Then, she looked at the two hooded figures. One of them stepped forward carefully, reached out, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Gavin?” she whispered, recognizing the gesture.

  Bob stood still, watching her from beneath his hood.

  “It’s him, Eda, but now he’s neither alive nor dead.”

  Eda quickly moved to pull his hood down to see his face. Bob stopped her hand with his gloved one. She insisted, and he let her. When the woman pulled back the hood, she gasped—partly in shock, partly in horror. But she recovered quickly, clutching her chest, and the only emotion left on her face was hope.

  “Is it really you?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, you can’t speak… I…”

  She threw herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face, and embraced him. He returned the hug, just as he had countless times when he was alive—only now, there was less flesh on his bones.

  She knew it was him and sobbed.

  “I thought I was alone, that they had taken Emmy, and I, I…”

  Mary stepped away. Joe and Ronan followed her.

  “Joe says thank you, Mary,” Ronan told her.

  “I’m sorry for interfering like that. I just felt it was the right thing to do.”

  “You did well.”

  “You know something, Ronan?”

  “What?”

  “This mission, Bob and Joe… I feel like I’ve witnessed something grand, something incredible. Gavin and Eda finding each other again—it’s wonderful.”

  “I suppose it’s the final chapter in the story of a dead man.”

  Mary playfully smacked his shoulder.

  “Final chapter, my foot. Nothing’s final, got it? They’re staying.”

  Joe raised one gloved skeletal finger—his thumb, pointed up.

  “Great,” she said to him. “Because now you have even more bonds tying you to this world and the living.”

  Mary still had to claim the mission’s reward, Theodore had to report to his father, the baron above Cedric was going to be investigated… but all of that was for later.

  Here and now, a family had been reunited, the criminals—minus one casualty—had been captured, and a young woman with a high affinity for light had faced darkness and cruelty and emerged untainted, strengthened.

  She had no idea how rare that was. She only felt grateful and overjoyed, thinking that Ronan was still himself despite having taken a life, and about all the rescued children who would soon be reunited with their parents, siblings, and grandparents.

  She also didn’t know that Ronan, in that barn, was sensing death. But he wouldn’t unearth the corpses of the lost children. Let them rest in peace. Their souls, now avenged, were free to move on.

  He didn’t know where the souls of the dead went, either. But he watched as more than two dozen tiny spirits rose from the earth and finally found their way forward.

  No, he didn’t feel he had done anything wrong by killing Cedric. And not just because he had saved Mary—but because it had silenced all those cries.

  He would inform the soldiers where the bodies were so they could be buried near their families.

  Life and death.

  Light and darkness.

  In the closing chapter of a dead man’s story, two souls remained bound together. Human or undead—what did it matter?

  Love would keep them united for all eternity.

  THE END

  Got it! Story finished by January 31st.