Necromancy In D Minor ✔️

Dawn Vivace

Octavia groaned at the light filtering through her eyelids. Her mouth and throat felt as though she'd spent the night eating sawdust, her chest was tight and a familiar ache pulsated through her with every beat of her heart.

How long had she played for? Five, six hours maybe. A little overzealous, but if it meant getting rid of the netherborne, she'd play for five or six years. Necromancy came with a price of horrible discomfort. Which was pittance when it meant the survival of humanity.

She raised her head from the armrest of the love seat, and her neck cried out in protest. "Dear gods." Her flute rolled from her chest, and she caught it just before it hit the ground. With slow and careful movements she sat up and stretched her arms and legs, working the stiffness from her limbs. She had no idea what time of day it was, but hopefully, it was not too late for breakfast.

Realisation struck her hard in the gut. She had to go to work. "Damn it." She'd completely forgotten that she had to teach today. Being late on her first day would make a horrible impression. She scrambled to her feet and all but dove into her luggage for suitable attire. Then she pounded up the steps to the lone room on the second floor, the dress hanging from her arm nearly tripping her on the way up.

A bed, and a chest of drawers with a mirror above it were its only furnishings. More bland art hung from the walls and heavy curtains covered the windows. In the center of it all was a claw-foot tub filled with water. Someone must have drawn the bath for her the previous day. It had probably been hot too. Shame.

Octavia stripped and eyed the tub as though it were a mountain she needed to move. She'd stared down an army of netherborne; a cold bath was nothing.

As soon as she eased herself into the water, grogginess fled her body. The cold sunk its teeth into her flesh and pierced through to the bone. But she powered through it and washed herself as fast as her hands could move.

Then she wrapped herself in a towel and shivered her way to the mirror to get her unruly braids in order. They were fraying, with the kinks and coils of her hair escaping their prison, and she made a note to redo them when she had time.

After Octavia was neat and dressed, she went back downstairs and packed away her books. Her last meal was on the boat the previous day, but there was no time for breakfast. So starvation would join misery and pain as her companions this day.

She donned a second layer of warm clothes, grabbed her flute case and headed out. A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, and the glare of the sun reflecting off it made her squint. As she crunched through, the forest drew her gaze.

Octavia didn't get the sensation of pinpricks under her skin, which meant the netherborne were gone. Her long gauntlet of playing had worked, and this island could be at peace once again. She would revel in this small victory, but she wouldn't allow it to get to her head.

It was just one small battle in a ceaseless war. There were many other villages out there like Hedalda if not worse. But not for long. So long as there was breath in her body and a song in her heart, she would not stop until she eradicated every single netherborne from this world.

Still, there was more work to do here in Hedalda. Eradicating the netherborne alone wouldn't clear the cloud of gloom hanging over this village. For that, they'd need the help of Jaredeth and several other surrounding kingdoms—most of which had cut ties with this place after the scourge took up residence.

Octavia picked up her pace as she passed the other handful of homes on her street. Outside one there was a man shoveling snow away from his porch. "Good Morning ma'am."

"Good morning," she said with a smile or nod, hoping he would want to engage in neighbourly banter.

"Are you the new teacher? My boy Lyle told me about you." He gave her a boyish grin, and for the first time she noticed his bright blue eyes and freckled face, offset by a healthy beard.