The darkness closed in on Theodore as he descended the spiraling staircase. The feeble light of the torch seemed to be swallowed up by the oppressive blackness, barely illuminating the crumbling, damp stone. With each step, the darkness and must grew as the staircase wound to its final destination. A great chamber lay beyond, its ceiling and even walls well outside the paling light of the torch.
Theodore needed no light to know what lay outside the flickering sphere of his vision. The bones of thousands rested here, a cathedral of bone. The architect of the ossuary was lost to history, the construction ancient beyond reckoning. Few clues remained to suggest the identity or fate of those at rest here. For some time it lay buried and forgotten, even planted over until the unnatural barrenness of the soil prompted the villagers who dwelt above to contact a priest.
Nothing could live here, not when so strong an aura of death permeated everything. Theodore could feel the slow rotting of his flesh as he stayed past his short welcome in this place. The air grew stale in his lungs and the walls felt as though they were closing in. Whatever malign energy took up residence here wished to keep the souls and bodies of the departed to itself. It sensed the threat posed by the interloper and sought to expel him by any means, something the black-robed intruder absolutely could not allow. He paid no heed and began the ritual, building his sanctuary from powdered silver sprinkled atop the bone floor.
The proper protections in place, Theodore meditated, summoning forth the concentration and energy needed to expel the spirits. He used their power against them, focusing his mind on the utter blackness and silence that defended the tomb from bandits and others of weak will. The dead held no power over the living but what the living gave them, empowering them with their fear, hatred, and sadness. All that was required to overcome their power was to reject it, embracing the coldness of death and the silence of the grave to chase out fear and calm the living heart. The caster retreated into his own mind, allowing the silence to prepare his mind for the trial to come.
Clack
The sound of bone-on-bone echoed around the room, deafening after the silence of the catacomb. A strangled cry followed, the soft voice a woman unmistakable against the echoing clack of falling bone. Theodore sighed as he struggled to regain his lost concentration before the spirits could harvest his aggravation at being disrupted. He focused again on his breathing, calming himself and rebuilding his meditative state.
Clack crash CRASH.
His eyes shot open, glaring balefully towards the point of the sound, his fragile concentration shattered by the repeat interruption.
"Sophia, knock it off and show yourself immediately."
A moment later, a second figure appeared in the catacomb. Her form was translucent white, illuminated from within by unearthly energies. Her appearance was that of a maiden in her prime, clad in a long and finely-sewn gown and the finery of a woman of good standing. White hair reached to her ankles, suspended unnaturally as if floating in water. Her feet likewise hung suspended, toes dangling inches from the ground. The apparition was beautiful beyond description, save for the faint pink flush covering her body and clothing and the look of complete embarrassment marring her flawless, porcelain face.
"Sophia, what are you doing here? I told you it wasn't safe for you here. You need to be at home"
"I know, honey, but I get so bored when you're not there. I thought if I was quiet and stayed out of sight, I wouldn't be a bother to you."
Theodore watched her blankly, unable to understand what part of "dangerous" she didn't understand. He was performing an exorcism on the entire area and she was a ghost. She had been rather needy ever since they met a year ago, but this was getting ridiculous. Chasing her out of his luggage before trips was one thing, but interrupting a potentially dangerous spell was something else completely. They would need to have a good, long talk about this when they got home.
"Go upstairs and wait for me. You don't want to be here when I perform the ritual. I'll finish up here and start preparing the corpses. Make sure the villager's skeletons are ready to go. I'll need some help getting all of these bones back home."
The life of a necromancer was not an easy one. He really struck gold tonight, though. There had to be at least a thousand skeletons down here, not to mention the villagers he "appropriated" earlier. With Sophia's help, his little army of undead terrors was growing larger every day. The other necromancers made fun of him for choosing a ghost to be his lieutenant and then almost immediately falling for her. They won't be laughing when they're skeletons. With a smile, the necromancer refocused, hoping to get this over with before dinner.
Theodore undid his collar and stripped of his priest's robes. Such deceptions were necessary when dealing with commoners, though he did occasionally feel bad for disguising as a priest, particularly when they begged him for salvation as he turned them into unliving minions. Misunderstood, not evil, he reminded himself. It was for the best, really. No one in his territory ever died of plague or famine, and he got to have plague zombies. It was a win for both sides. Really. They should be thanking him.
He also felt a little bad about his argument with Sophia. She seemed devastated when he asked her to leave him alone when he was working. It was for her own good, but that did little to assuage his guilt. She was all alone when he was gone, just like she had been for most of her unlife. Still, she needed to learn her place as his assistant, lover or not.
