Necromancy, A Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

I awoke in cold-sweat. I had dreams of my lips being sewn shut as I was tied to a bed. The man sewing my lips together wore dark clothing and had pale skin with fangs and red eyes. I was in the Arcane University, it was twice the size of the Ruined City of Chorrol. Into the Mage-Quarters came a Dunmer with graying hair and light skin. "Are you okay?" the Magus asked. "Arch-Magister Tyrinth asked me to check up on you, Evangeline."

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, "Yes, I'm fine Master Mythaniel." I put on my cerulean-colored robes and pulled up my hood. The moon still dominated the sky. Thousands of silvery lights dominated the blackness of night.

The Master Mythaniel was gone. I heard a voice in the back of my skull. "They truly are ignorant," it whispered. "Of your true power, aren't they? Of your true potential in the arts they consider 'foul'."

"Of course they are," I whispered in response. "But the University has so much to offer me."

The voice was that of a dear friend I met five years ago. He was a Dark Elf that wore a full suit of black and red daedric armor and carried an enchanted ebony longsword. "Meet me in the School of Mysticism within the hour," the voice called.

"Yes, of course," I responded. "What do you want anyway, Zalphon?"

"You'll see," Zalphon stalled. "You shall see..."

I obediently headed to the School of Mysticism. It was the size of a Guild-Hall, however when you entered it increased in size ten-fold. Soul-Gems were in display cases across the room, teleportation pads were in the Portal Room, and mages with glazed-over eyes wandered. They didn't really notice us, they were in Dreamsleeve observing.

Out of thin air appeared Zalphon. He bowed deeply. "I think it is time that we head to the Keep of Shadow's Soul in the Black Marsh. It is a school of necromancers, I think you'd fit right in."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I'm merely an apprentice of the arcane."

"The Keep of Shadow's Soul is a school for those that are worthy," He explained. "If you manage to survive the 'Rites of Passage' and become a full-student, you'll be worthy. However, in the Keep of Shadow's Soul, you must always watch your back. The other students and associates would gladly kill their fellow necromancers to use them to study."

"I am ready."

"I knew you'd say that."

An orb of black-light surrounded us and we were teleported. My dreams of becoming a necromancer would finally come to pass. Finally, I would have the power that was rightfully mine. And I could finally bring back my mother...

[Zalphon]

Chapter Three: The Orb of Arcana

I took a step down the natural-stone stairs. When I reached the bottom I noticed two spectral Aldmer arguing. “Varon, stop arguing with me, we both know I am correct,” One hissed. The one who said that was taller.

“Tyrian, the formula to—We have a visitor,” The shorter one pointed at me. “Let’s kill her, I could always further my own power with by siphoning her soul into my own flesh.”

Altus whispered a spell and out of the palm of his hand shot an arrow of acid. The tall one muttered a spell and out of nowhere came a spear that went right through me. It wasn’t a physical spear, but it was a spirit one. I felt the agony all the same. Caminus growled, “Tyrian, Varon, prepare to die.” He muttered a spell and a conglomerate orb of the different elements bolted from his finger tips into them.

The spirits faded into non-existence. “Altus, you said they just siphoned souls into soul-gems,” I sighed. “Then why did he say siphoning it into his own flesh?”

“Well,” The Ethereal Aldmer stated. “The Tomes taught us how to further our own power by siphoning the souls of others into our own flesh, for it would infuse our bodies with magic.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief. “You captured souls and infused them in your flesh for power?”

“Indeed,” He responded. “The Tomes taught us many dark arts. I’ve only scratched the surface of what the tomes did, when you prove yourself, I’ll tell you more.”

I walked over to the corpses of the fallen spirits, they were still trapped. The Tallest Tower had a blue orb appear above it. “The Orb of Arcana,” Caminus whispered. “The Ruling Council of the Circle of Arcana Specialis gave their lives to create the Orb of Arcana.”

“They thought they were on the path to god-hood, instead it was the path to death. The Orb of Arcana is the final test of those trying for demi-god hood. You must siphon the power of the Orb of Arcana and survive the mental trials it bestows,” He continued. “Few have survived. Even fewer that survived came back still sane. It is said to tear your mind apart, but if you succeed true power awaits. It is one of the darkest things the Tomes taught us.”

“Those that survived and were still sane grew power-hungry and secluded. They experienced paranoia and flashes of rage,” Caminus explained. “The Orb changed our most powerful wizards into the darkest mages to ever live. As more attempted, the more powerful the Orb got. It started to change everyone. They would start to act like the sane survivors. Eventually everyone was corrupted by the Orb of Arcana.”

“Really?” I questioned. “How did it grow so strong?”

“The Failures, they gave it power. I don’t know who wrote the Tomes, but I do know this, we must destroy them and the Orb of Arcana,” He warned. “If you find one of the Tomes, do not read from it. It will seduce you, everyone who read even a single word from the Tomes couldn’t get away from it, except to use the knowledge from it.”

My legs started to walk into what looked to be an abandoned dome-shaped building. I slowly pushed the door open and tried to sense the life-force in here with a spell. There was none that I could sense. On an ebony table I found a note,

“Syrinthia,

The Masters allowed me to read one of the tomes. I can’t keep away from it. I have learned things that I once thought were impossible. I do not bleed, I do not feel pain, I can take a sword to my heart and it’ll regenerate. I must read more; I will speak to you after the Masters allow me to siphon one of the traitors to our people.

Tyrian”

The paper was old. Very old, I tried to pick it up off the table, but it crumbled to dust. In a silver-chest I opened I found a book. It was written in a language I couldn’t read, so I handed it to Altus.

“The Tale of Tray’kor,” the Spectre said. “A story about a worker who became a wizard-lord, it wasn’t too horrible.”

The room was mostly barren except for the table and chest. A bed-roll, a cauldron, and a mortar-and-pestle on a cabinet, was all that was in the room. “I’m going to get some rest, okay?” I asked Altus.

“I’ll keep watch; we’re only in the pauper-quarters. Even the paupers of the Forgotten City can use magic. Well enough for most common purposes, but no where near that of a wizard,” Caminus responded. “Sleep, for when you awaken we must continue our search.”