Necromancy In D Minor ✔️

Daylight Etude

Are you out there?

Octavia looked beyond the village and into the woods. The sun broke through the clouds and blessed the ground below with its warmth, setting the snow aglow. She crunched along the road that led away from the schoolhouse, her arms filled with supplies she'd pilfered from the cabinet, along with her flute case.

Since she'd skipped breakfast, her stomach was whining like a disgruntled toddler, and she wasn't sure where to get proper food at this hour. But she wanted to see more of the town so she headed towards the Cathedral.

Dirty heaps and piles of snow lined the roads. Octavia alone traversed the plowed paths, walking by the frozen pond. A daywalker stood on the stone bridge, its glowing eyes like beacons as it stared down at the water.

Her fingers curled into fists and her lips twisted into a scowl. Its presence alone was a mocking reminder of what she'd failed to do. Soon, she would figure this out, find the answers she needed and get rid of them for good.

As Octavia stepped onto the Cathedral's grounds, a familiar warmth washed over her. She stopped, took a step back into the cold and walked forward again, replicating the sensation.

Another barrier.

Interesting. She walked to the south of the daunting structure that was the Hedalda Cathedral. The hulking behemoth cast its shadow over her, asserting its authority. She resisted the urge to salute it with an obscene gesture and walked across the front of the building to a cluster of stone benches arranged around a fire pit.

Octavia relieved herself of her burden and rubbed her tired eyes. Sitting down had never been so blissful. Her legs burned from walking around all morning and feeling had long left her toes. A headache crept up the back of her head, and its march would surely quicken once she got to planning her lesson.

But first, she needed to know if the netherborne were still here. It was possible they were hiding deeper in the forest, or on the fringes of the island. One simple melody would weed them out. She popped the latches of her flute case and found the velvet interior empty.

I never packed the flute away. She balled her fists and bit down on them to stop herself from screaming out loud. Sin and symphony. What, dare she ask, could make this morning even worse? A rogue bolt of lightning striking her dead? Not an entirely unwelcomed prospect.

Using her voice was a possibility, but the volume with which she had to do so would leave her too hoarse to teach later. Her vocal chords weren't nigh as strong as her power. She thumbed the rosebud charm of her necklace. 

No, that was far too conspicuous and presented too great of a risk. Necromancy could wait, for now. But her lesson plan couldn't.

Octavia didn't even know where to begin. Beatrix had told her the children had the basics down, but it had been a while since they'd had a teacher. She wasn't one to rely on the judgment on non-musicians and needed to assess their skill level herself.

She took out some paper and a pen from her supplies and drew staves and notes. Like all necromancers, music was second nature to her, as inherently hard-wired into her brain as breathing. She could play any song verbatim after hearing it only once, evoke melodies from her flute that could move the most hardened, stoic warriors to tears.

But being a good musician wasn't enough to be a good necromancer. Necromancy took an intense focus, and an iron will that learning music couldn't foster. She could teach anyone to blow in a hole until a tune came out. She couldn't teach a lackluster necromancer to get a grip on their power, or project their will, or stay calm and collected when it felt as though their soul was being torn away. Because those things couldn't be taught. They either had it or they didn't.