The Necromancer and their Minion
Inspired by this prompt Second POV Gender-neutral Necromancer Reader Fluff and Fantasy Wordcount: 547
When the leader of the Hero party killed you, you were certain you were gone forever, to walk in this eternal darkness until you reached the afterlife. You were certain you were going to the Underworld, for you were one of the people who went against the laws of nature and raised the dead. It was no surprise, yet you will miss your minions. You wonder how they will function without you, their master?
Perhaps they’ll live out their lives or possibly find a new master.
So regaining sensation to your beings was the last thing you expected. Nor was the sudden air that filled your lungs that had you coughing and heaving. Nor was the sudden sense of sight as light flooded your eyes and blinded you for just a moment. You were in your body. You were breathing. You were alive…
You were alive.
Panicked confusion had you choking at the revelation before you blink your eyes to adjust to the light. That’s when you notice the things before you, the creature that resurrected you from the void. An Elder Lich, you realized when you caught sight of its bony limbs and face, a white robe that’s torn at the ends of the seams. Pearls adorned around its neck and wrists, buzzing with magic and power. In one of its skeletal claws was a book, jewels embedded with elegant swirls carved and engraved on the cover, the pages were worn yellow yet the leather was still put together. But what caught your attention was, amongst the hauntingly majestic outfit of the Lich, was a nametag that stood out like a sore thumb. Old and torn, yet still stuck on, and on it was the faded ink writing.
Bob.
…This was BOB!?
You looked at the Elder Lich in immense shock and surprise. “Bob!?”
A nasal rasp from the Lich confirmed your suspicions. You scratched your head as you looked around, noticing the crumbling stone pillars and ceiling, the torched banners, and behind your minion was an army of the dead and the night. Lycanthropes, goblins, undead warriors, and even a few wyverns flying above. The army crowded the hall. And around the altar that you were resurrected on were blood-written runes scrawled on the floor, a ritual of resurrection. But to do that, you would need a human sacrifice…
A glint of steel caught your eye behind you and you turned to meet the eyes of the lifeless head of the Hero and his party. Brown hair is dirty and matted with blood, hollow green eyes stare at you, and deathly pale skin.
Your minion killed the Hero and his party to resurrect you…as revenge…
An overwhelming sensation of warmth as you turn back to your minion. “Bob, you did this for me?”
Bob nodded.
You couldn’t help the chuckle as you attempted to stand up, the elder lich assisting you. The army in front of you watched curiously as the leader helped you onto your feet. You couldn’t believe how loyal your minion is; getting stronger to defeat the Hero and to bring you back to life. You almost felt like crying. After releasing a shaky breath, you looked at Bob with a smile. “It’s good to be back.”
