Necromancy In D Minor ✔️

Arvo Rococo (Encore)

Octavia paced the length of the antechamber while the medics put the finishing touches on the makeshift infirmary. At their last check in, Beatrix said the villagers were trickling into the atrium, Sicero was informing Levi of their plans and Quintus was teaching the medics how to check for blight exposure.

Meanwhile, thoughts of all the ways this could go wrong plagued her mind, buzzing like a swarm of locusts. Her biggest worry was the backlash from the villagers. If two hundred years in a scourged world had taught her anything, it was that people were hard pressed to leave behind their homes. or perhaps she'd became jaded to the idea of a home since her family had kicked her out the moment they learned she was a necromancer.

Since then, a real home with a real family became a foreign concept to her. That, coupled with years of wandering made her realize how fickle material possessions were. Clinging to such things resulted in disappointment more often than not in this ravaged world.

"We're all done," Annabelle announced, clapping her hands together, her pigtails bouncing. "Is there anything else we should go over?"

Quintus shook his head. "I believe you all. You should join the Councilors in the atrium."

She skipped out with the rest of the medic team in tow. As the door swung a boot slipped between the jam to stop it from closing.

Claud stuck his head in. "Do you have a minute?"

"Quite a few." Octavia stopped her pacing and sat in a couch, but couldn't stop her foot from tapping. It would be a while before Sicero and Beatrix delivered the news to the townsfolk.

He nodded and stepped inside, a stained leather case tucked under his arm. "I need your help." He laid the little box on the table as though it were a porcelain egg.

"Get in line," Quintus said, reclining in an armchair.

Octavia shook her head at him. "What is it Claud?"

"I'm trying to find a necromancer. I don't have a name or a face. Just a box full of letters and these." Claud popped the case's latch. Nestled inside its velvet interior were two gold boxes, one with a key sticking out its side. "They're music boxes."

Octavia leaned over to get a closer look. "May I?" At his nod, she picked up the smaller box and twisted the key. Its soft clicks filled the room, and when the key reached its limits, the top popped open and a familiar tune played. "This is the stargazer's requiem."

Quintus sat up. "All right. You have my attention. What is this necromancer to you?"

"She's my mother. She had to flee the place where we lived after she was caught. I was only an infant at the time. She left me on the doorstep of an old couple's house in the next town over, with a note, a pouch of coin, and that music box.

Octavia took in Claud's words, each hitting her like a punch to the gut. Hi s story wasn't new to her, but she'd never get used to hearing it. Countless necromancers were forced to abandon their children or put them up for adoption to keep them safe. Another disgusting side effect of society's prejudice and indifference.

She bit her lip. Who wrote the stargazer's requiem? Many names flashed across her mind, but none matched up to the song filling the room.

"My mother would send letters every season," Claud continued. "She never disclosed her identity or location, and always wrote about sin and symphony, but I wouldn't come to know what that meant until much later on in life. She sent me this music box for my twelfth birthday, but it doesn't have a key." He picked up the second box, cradling it in his hands like a small, fragile animal. "Then one year, the letters stopped. Months passed, seasons passed with no word. When I turned sixteen, I left home to search for her."