Prelude

He'd been reading by himself in the forest when he first smelled it.

Sour, rotting, rank. He only knew what it was because he'd come upon a Wolfbeast's leftovers before.

The scent of death.

He closed his book with a sharp snap and stood up. His fur stood on end and his legs urged him to flee, yet he pressed on.

He followed his nose, weaving through the trees and thickets, and it wasn't long before he heard a voice. His ears twitched, angling themselves towards the source of the sound.

He couldn't make out the words from here, but it was unmistakably a girl's voice, soft and high-pitched and pleasant in the face of death.

Something told him this wasn't just another predator's carcass. That was natural; an unfortunate animal's turn in the circle of life; and it was never accompanied by the pressure he felt building in his skull.

The girl continued chattering away, oblivious to the rot around her. He needed to figure out why.

He parted the bushes to reveal a young Feln girl sitting on a tree stump, her purple dress flecked with mud and twigs. Her back was to him, and he saw a rip on the dress trailing from her hair to below her shoulders, revealing matted pale blue fur beneath.

She wasn't the only one there, however. But he couldn't process who–or what–else was with her.

A Wolfbeast sat in front of her like a patient dog, and it seemed for all intents and purposes to be listening as she talked–but it had no eyes. A tendril of purple smoke snaked out of its eye sockets and slithered from its open mouth. Its pelt was mostly intact, though the fur on its neck was matted with dried blood. That's probably the killing wound, he thought, and then he realised he knew what this was, even though he didn't know it was possible.

It was this realisation that froze his blood even as the girl continued talking.

"... don't know why they'd do that," she said to the Wolfbeast, because no one else was there, "I've never even talked to them, I don't know what I could've done to make them mad at me." The Feln sighed. "It's not fair."

The Wolfbeast actually appeared to nod, its head lolling up and down like a puppet on strings.

"And now my favourite dress is ruined." She lowered her head, and he got a better look at the rip in her dress and the scratch running down her back. "Should've known better than to wear it today."

And then he saw something seeping out of that scratch, but it was so faint he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been staring: pale, dark smoke, similar to the Wolfbeast's, trailed from her back to dissipate in the air.

She leaned back on the stump, and he drew back in case he spotted her, and saw magic curling around her fingertips.

He knew he should be scared. Terrified, even, of what this could mean. But the only thing he could think in that moment was:

"How are you doing that?"

The girl shrieked, leaping off the stump in a frenzy. The magic died instantly and the Wolfbeast collapsed in a pile of bloodied fur and bones.

"Who are you?" she yelled.

Ah, he thought as he looked up at the girl, with her frantic eyes underlined by bags and her unkempt hair and her bristling fur, it's her. "How did you do that?" he repeated.

"Do what?" she replied, her chest shuddering with quick, shallow breaths. "I didn't do anything!"

"That," he said, gesturing to the bones.

"I don't–I didn't–" she tried, clenching her fists as she stared at him, "it moved on its own!"

"I saw the magic," he said simply, standing up to meet her eyes directly. "Your magic."

She took a step back, and another, and then a sickening crunch filled the air and she gasped as her breaths grew sharper, more erratic, and he realised, Oh, damn. She's hyperventilating.

"Deep breaths," he said, ignoring that she was standing on top of Wolfbeast bones.

She shook her head and tried to kneel down before realising where she was, and that just made her breathing worse. He wondered if she might pass out on the bones, and though that would be interesting to see, he wasn't cruel enough to just watch it happen.

He held his hand out to her and she stared at him.

"What?" she hissed between breaths.

He gestured with his hand and waited patiently.

She eyed the hand with the caution of a stray animal. Just as he was beginning to feel stupid for keeping his hand out, she shakily took it, her grip so weak it was barely a grip at all. But it was enough for him. Gently, he pulled her from the bones and guided her back to the tree stump, where she carefully sat down.

"Well done," he said, because he wasn't sure what he was actually supposed to say in a situation like this.

"Not helping," she spat, looking down at the ground. "I'm not a kid."

"Of course. Sorry." He rubbed the back of his head. He decided it was best to say nothing at all, so he waited for the girl to calm down.

The forest was quiet save for the girl’s breaths. Not even birds dared to sing so close to a carcass. The grass rustled with a faint breeze that seemed to shy away from the dead body in front of them, for it was so still he could almost forget he’d seen it moving moments ago. He even felt shielded from the outside world here, in this maze of trees where time stopped for the two of them and the corpse that lay between them. If it weren’t for the sour reek of decay, it would almost be peaceful.

"You can leave now," the Feln muttered after a minute, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"Not yet," he said. "Not until I…" He caught himself and tried again. "Until I see that you're okay," he finished.

She gave him an odd look. "Fine," she replied after a moment.

He waited some more, occasionally glancing at the Wolfbeast corpse, then at the trembling Feln on the tree stump. How could someone as jumpy as her pull off that kind of magic? It didn't make sense, and that was exactly why his blood was now pumping with excitement.

"Wait. I know you," the girl said once her breathing was steady. "You're in Greenglade too." Her face darkened with understanding. "You're the little prodigy."

He liked the way that word curled off her tongue, surely meant to slice him when all it did was bounce right off. "I am," he replied. "And you're in my class, right? Lacie or something?"

"Lorelei," she corrected tersely. "Though it's okay, I wouldn't expect you to know."

The little prodigy smiled. "A pretty name. Your parents are northern Tananshian?"

"... Yes." She stared at him, and he kept his smile because he knew he hadn't fallen into the trap of assuming that she was northern Tananshian, and the slight widening of her eyes told him he hit the nail on the head. "I've never cared for it either way, but my parents are proud of their heritage."

"But you are a Greenglader," he replied.

"I am." She lowered her gaze. "Though I don't feel much like one." Before he could ask, she continued, "Fericeus, right?"

"Right," said Fericeus. "It's nice to actually talk to you, Lorelei."

"Hm." She rolled her eyes, and it made her look three years younger. It was then he noticed the pitch of her voice had noticeably lowered. It was different from when she'd been speaking to the Wolfbeast, free and light and natural. "Love your sarcasm," she went on. "Bet you've been wanting to talk to Lacie for ages."

"Maybe I have," he replied without missing a beat, "and maybe I was just messing with you by calling you Lacie. You presume too much."

"Don't talk to me about presumptions." Lorelei narrowed her eyes. "I know what it looks like when someone actually wants to mess with me."

Oops, thought Fericeus, because of course Lorelei would know what that was like. He remembered the rip in her dress. "Sorry," he replied.

She held her cold gaze for a few moments before looking down at the Wolfbeast corpse. "... How much did you see?" she murmured.

He hid his surprise that she'd bring the topic back herself. He was just grateful he didn't have to dig for it. "A lot," he admitted. "You were talking to that corpse like it was alive. And it was moving like it was."

She appeared to consider this. She stood still for one, two, three seconds.

Then her silver eyes locked on his in a harsh glare. "If you tell anyone, you'll regret it."

Oh, she actually looked vaguely intimidating there. But Fericeus did not back down. "Why? Are you going to kill me and animate my corpse?"

Her ear twitched warily, but she leered at him. "Might do. Been wanting to see if this works on Vistians."

He couldn't see any actual malice in her eyes. She just looked like a girl trying to protect herself, as she'd learned to do nearly every day in the village. He couldn't help feeling sorry for her. He held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, I won't tell anyone."

She held her ground. "Do you promise?"

He nodded. "I promise." Won't be able to learn any more if I rat her out, anyway.

She didn't relax, exactly, but stepped back and dropped her arms to her sides. "Good."

"Could you do that again?"

Lorelei looked at the Wolfbeast carcass she'd stepped on only minutes prior. It still mostly held together despite her weight on it, which got Fericeus wondering just how little she weighed. Then she glared at him again, but there was a hint of fear there, too. "And if I say no?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly despite its fierceness.

"Then I won't bother you further," Fericeus replied.

"Fine." She held her hands out. Within seconds they took on a purple glow, and magic snaked out like tendrils from her hands to the Wolfbeast corpse. Bones clacked as the body rose to a sitting position, and before long the Wolfbeast was moving on its own, its ripped ears twitching like it could hear something.

"Fascinating," Fericeus breathed. By rights he should be horrified; this scrawny girl who could barely use magic in class was animating a dead body; but all he wanted to do was get a closer look at this rotting beast that suddenly took on a life of its own.

He flinched suddenly as the pressure in his skull came back in full force like jackhammers pounding in his head. He'd never been exposed to such strong magic before, let alone been this close to it.

And it was coming from the weak, helpless girl next to him.

The thought both terrified and thrilled him.

"How?" Fericeus breathed. "You can't even summon shadows in class."

"Fuck you," she hissed, so vehemently she released her hold on the Wolfbeast and it clattered to the ground.

Fericeus blinked. He hadn't expected such a strong reaction. "Sorry.”

"You think you've a right to judge me?" Lorelei growled. "Magic comes so naturally to you, doesn't it? You are a prodigy after all. Do you know how hard it is to actually use it?"

Fericeus cursed himself for missing such an obvious sore spot. He had to admit she had a point; he didn't think twice about using magic. For him it was as natural as breathing. Apparently most Vistians couldn't even sense magic, yet he could feel it as strongly as the death currently surrounding them. "You're right. I don't know what it's like for you."

Lorelei scoffed. "Then maybe think twice before opening your mouth."

He didn't appreciate being humbled by someone most of the village viewed as pathetic, but he knew when he was in the wrong. So he kept his mouth closed.

She watched him carefully, then once it was obvious he wasn't going to reply, turned back to the Wolfbeast. Magic flowed from her to the corpse again, giving life to it in a way that set Fericeus' fur bristling.

There was no other way to say it: Lorelei was performing necromancy.

"Where did you learn this?" He sidestepped the question of 'how'.

"Books, mainly. The ones off-limits." Lorelei looked at him. "The library is one of the only places no one bothers me."

Fericeus spent almost all his spare time in the library. He couldn't remember seeing Lorelei once.

And not even he had known there were books off limits.

He knew he should ignore it, or at least think badly of it, but he welcomed the excitement that flowed through him in that moment. It felt like doors he had never seen before had suddenly swung open for him. There was knowledge out there he had yet to learn, knowledge that perhaps even the masters did not possess! What other dark arts did Greenglade keep hidden from its people?

"I'm not sure why I can do this," Lorelei went on, her attention now on the Wolfbeast, who was scratching its torn ear with a mangled hind leg. "The books said half of it comes from conviction."

Fericeus remembered how he caught Lorelei talking to the corpse like it was a friend, and he didn't need her to clarify. She was bullied relentlessly in the village; something he'd never given much thought to, admittedly, as he'd always been more focused on his own learning; so he figured she didn't have anyone to talk to.

Performing forbidden magic just to have a friend? A dead friend at that? He wasn't sure whether he thought it pathetic or brave. Anyone could have caught her.

She was lucky it was him.

"Can you show me those books?" he asked.

Her ear twitched, swivelled towards him as a dog's would hearing food clattering into its bowl, though her eyes remained on the Wolfbeast. "You want to…?" She caught the end of that question between her teeth, then scoffed, rolling her eyes again. "I'm not falling for that."

"It's not a trick."

"Damn right it's not. You're the village favourite. I'm already on thin ice. You rat me out and they won't hesitate to exile me."

The temptation was there to rile her up, if only to see what she would do, but he couldn't waste his best card in the deck she'd so graciously given him. "I swear by Vacerus, I'm not tricking you. I want to read those books."

The Wolfbeast growled quietly as Lorelei looked at Fericeus, the lowly apprentice that was she to the promising young master he'd become, and she narrowed her eyes. "What would the prodigy want with books on black magic?"

"I'm simply curious."

"Don't tell me you want to try necromancy yourself." The Wolfbeast behind her bared its chipped and rotted fangs in a morbid grin, death fresh on its breath. Lorelei's tone turned triumphant, and she knew, suddenly, that it was she with the upper hand. "No way. The little prodigy is just as messed up as me, huh?"

"I never said I'd use them."

"You haven't condemned me," Lorelei went on. "Anyone else would have run screaming to the elders by now. I'm lucky it was you."

She was smarter than she looked.

"It it's acceptance you want, then fine." The words flowed freely from his mouth despite trying to lodge themselves in his teeth. "I don't want to try necromancy, but I don't think it's as sacrilegious as the world makes it seem. All you're doing is pulling the strings of a rotting puppet."

The Wolfbeast snorted as though taking offence, and Fericeus wondered for a second how true his words were. Lorelei folded her arms, the rip in her dress snaking towards her shoulder. "You really aren't like the others," she said, her eyes widening in some kind of recognition, and—Fericeus wished he couldn't see it–familiarity, too. "Okay. I'll show you. And I’ll trust your word that you won’t tell anyone what you saw today."

"Of course." Fericeus wasn't sure who had won this game. In any case, he'd get what he wanted, and he'd get to study something else, too: this strange girl dismissed as the village failure who seemed to have far more power than she knew. He'd have to watch her closely.

"It really was nice to talk to you," the prodigy continued. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other in the future."

"I look forward to it," the young mage replied, grinning like the walking corpse behind her.