Necromancer

Resting on its pedestal, the orb glowed like a tiny malevolent sun, dark magicks swirling like a deep purple fog within its crystalline interior. The rest of the room was almost pitch-black yet its every feature was visible and its outline clearly defined in the gloom. Despite the appearance of chaotic activity inside of it the orb was freezing to the touch and Katrionna Venhalle could feel its coldness through her supple leather gloves as she laid her fingers upon it delicately. She shivered as a sensation like the darkest depths of a winter night ran up her arms, causing the skin to prickle beneath her black leather outfit and a tiny gasp partway between pain and joy to escape her lips. Smiling evilly as she recovered her poise, Katrionna closed her eyes, caressing the evil object as gently as though it were a newborn baby. Delight coursed through her as each fresh tingle of cold ran up and down her arms.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand rather than simply glorying in the potential of the thing. She stood in silence for a moment, focusing her will. Slowly, she began to murmur the words of the ritual, her mind settling into the steady, tranquil place that always came right before the casting of a great ritual spell. The language she spoke was harsh and jarring to the ear, yet strangely sibilant, a mixture of hissing and brash cawing as though some strange fusion of snake and gull were trying to call out. Its words were such that had anyone heard them spoken they would have left vivid impressions of power and importance and yet one would be unable to recall the exact sound of any particular syllable.
Gradually the words became louder and more rhythmic, turning from simple spoken phrases into a chant, hypnotic in quality. The dust in the corners of the room began to swirl unseen as a low, moaning wind sprang up from nowhere. Katrionna leaned her head back, eyes still closed and the sound of her voice becoming louder and louder as she continued to chant. The orb was glowing brighter now, the purple fog within its depths simmering with hints of malefic potential, and her fingers were now still and unmoving upon its crystal surface. Unbidden, the torches mounted upon the walls sprang into life, burning with a strange and unnatural flame that threw stark shadows in all directions – shadows which had little to do with the physical contents of the room. Instead they danced with dark merriment, and snatches of demonic cackling could be heard.
Katrionna’s eyes snapped open suddenly, her eyes glazed as though she were gazing off into the distance. The last word passed her lips almost at a shriek as purple flames sprang up upon her arms. The dark fog within the orb was still now, and the glow gone. It looked more of an amethyst paperweight than an object of dark power, yet the wind continued to moan and the chaotic shadows could be heard cackling madly. Still staring at something unseen, Katrionna turned slowly away from the pedestal, her arms coursing with violet fire yet strangely unharmed. Her face was expressionless as she crossed the room, walking with intent towards the back wall.
There, chained and bound like a human cross, was the son of the local lord. His long blond hair was filthy, matted with blood and dirt, and his fine clothes ragged. He hung unconscious, his head leant forward and straining his neck. As Katrionna approached, her every step methodical, his eyes opened slowly and he gasped with pain as he felt his manacles wrenching at his arms. Groggily he looked upwards as slow realisation crept through the pounding of his head, the sights and the sounds of the formerly dark room penetrating his battered senses and into his fog-filled mind. Seeing Katrionna stood before him, he spoke through cracked lips his voice almost too weary for terror to enter, “Please, no…” She gave no sign of even having heard him. Her left hand tightened around his throat, pushing him flat against the wall. Despite his greater size and weight she held him one-handed, crushing him in her iron grip. Choking, he tried to beg for his life, unable even to claw at her fingers or fight back, but no coherent sound could pass his lips - nothing but a series of gurgles and desperate squeaks. For her part Katrionna stood emotionless, throttling him whilst showing no signs of even being aware he existed. His eyes bulged as the skin of his face began to turn as purple as the leather gauntlets she wore.
A sudden tearing pain ripped through his gut. He let out a choked scream then, despite the hand wrapped around his throat. Tears flooded from his eyes as he felt her pushing up through his insides, elbow-deep in his guts as she reached up through him. The pain nearly caused him to black out again but sheer terror kept him awake and in agony. A yet-sharper pain ran through him as he felt her hand close around his heart. At that moment she looked into his eyes and he could see the person return, the absolute sense of self that told him she was no longer possessed by some malign entity. She grinned wickedly at him even as she tore out his heart.
For just a moment he stared down at her, locked into her gaze. The perfect understanding of what had just been done passed between them as she stood, still with her hand around his throat and holding in her other his dying heart, the arm covered in his blood. Then the sweetness of death’s release overtook him.
Katrionna turned, striding towards the orb gleefully. Holding the heart in her hand delicately she raised it above the orb, squeezing as though it were a lemon. Drops of blood fell upon its surface and where they landed it glowed alight once more. The violet flames had died away and the violent swirling fog returned to the crystal’s depths, seeming to twist and skitter more madly than before. The shadows with their cackling had gone, and the wind too, all ended upon the moment of the young man’s final gasping breath. As the droplets of blood became a river and a flood, coating the crystalline surface, lines of coruscating power began to spark within its depths. The heart went limp in Katrionna’s hand, the blood drained from it, and she threw it aside without a moment’s thought. Raising the orb, she admired it for a moment before turning once more to the young man, now a corpse, hanging from the wall. Marching quickly and purposefully towards him, she rammed her arm once more inside him, pushing the malefic object up through him and into the place where his heart had been. Stepping backwards, she raised her arms again and screamed, not in the demon tongue this time but instead a single word, “Awaken!”
With a low groan the corpse’s head lifted. Staring blankly at her, almost seemingly through her, it sagged against the chains. Where before he had screamed and screamed in pain now his tongue was still. The eyes slowly drew into a kind of unnatural focus, as though they could not quite make out what was before them. The lips moved silently for a moment, mouthing words, before finally the corpse spoke, its voice thin and broken, “Command me, mistress.” Katrionna grinned insanely, touching the still-bleeding hole in the former man’s chest. She shivered as dark power buzzed beneath her fingertips.
Somewhere deep behind the eyes of the emotionless corpse, the soul of the young man screamed.