You covered their faces for her. At least that’s what you told yourself. To avoid the annoyance of her sniffling and the stain of tears on the child’s face. An attempt to stop the silent shaking when she should be sleeping. The wails that never left her, but you could see in her wrinkled brow and clenched jaw. It was for her, to keep her quiet as your half rotten group shuffled through the silent halls.
It wasn’t because you kept turning to the barbarian, a snarky quip on your tongue. Or the knight, a barbed word dancing in your throat. Only to find their husks staring blankly at you. They didn’t hear such things anymore. Commands were the only things that made them react. Made them move.
It wasn’t because in the deepest dark their eyes now milky, shone like silver pieces. Like the coins left with the dead for a passage you had stolen from them. Their now slack jawed expressions made your heart clench with something new and unforgivable.
It was all for the girl. For her comfort.
And you didn’t focus on your sudden need to keep her safe, to stop her tears. Or how it was all a distraction from the beast in your heart, chewing at your insides. Filling you with guilt.
Necromancy was only easy when you had never seen their life.
