Zara’s POV

  Morning light filtered through the hospital windows, casting a warm glow over the bustling main floor. Naja moved gracefully between patients, her ghostly silver hands soothing the sick and injured with every touch. Despite the chaos, she always found time for a smile and a kind word, her gentle presence a beacon of hope. Watching her work was like witnessing a miracle in motion—her magic, an extension of her kindness, offered comfort to those who needed it most.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Naja greeted me as I walked in, her voice filled with warmth.

  “Morning, Naja,” I replied, feeling my own smile lift the usual somber expression from my face. The scent of peppermint wafted around me as I approached my friend.

  Naja glanced at me, noticing the slight dark circles under my eyes. “Late night?”

  I nodded. “Had a bit of an encounter on my way home. An undercover officer saved me from running into a gang of thugs. Turns out, he’s a magical too.”

  “Really? That’s exciting! Was he hot?” She asked teasingly.

  My cheeks reddened a bit and she broke into a big smile. “Maybe you will run into him when you help the police solve their next murder,” Naja teased, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

  “Maybe,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh.

  As we continued our rounds, the two of us fell into an easy rhythm. Despite the differences in our magical abilities, Naja and I had always complemented each other perfectly. Her sweet, gullible nature often balanced my more guarded and sharp demeanor. She had a way of making even the most grim situations feel a little lighter, and I had a way of grounding her when she wanted to take on too much.

  “Remember that time we tried to heal and resurrect that bird?” Naja asked with a giggle.

  “How could I forget?” I replied, rolling my eyes affectionately. “It kept flying into walls because it couldn’t decide if it was alive or dead.”

  Our laughter echoed through the corridor, drawing curious glances from the staff and patients alike. It was moments like these that reminded me of the importance of our friendship. In a world that often feared and misunderstood our abilities, we found solace in each other’s company.

  “I don’t think I could do this without you,” I admitted softly, glancing at her as we walked. “You’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m something unnatural.”

  Naja nudged my shoulder playfully but her eyes softened. “You’re not unnatural, Zara. You’re extraordinary. People just don’t understand what they don’t experience.”

  I exhaled, nodding slightly. “And yet, they adore you.”

  She smiled, a hint of mischief in her expression. “Well, I am pretty amazing.”

  I chuckled. “That you are.”

  Naja had been my constant from the moment we met. She never shied away from me, never hesitated to be my friend. Where others whispered and stared, she saw me for who I was, not just what I could do. In a city that often kept magicals at a wary distance, we had built our own world, one where trust was unwavering and companionship was an anchor against the weight of our powers.

  As the day went on, we continued working side by side, seamlessly navigating the hospital’s demands. And for a while, I let myself forget the darkness that lingered at the edges of my world, focusing instead on the one person who had never let me walk through it alone.

  Later that day, I stood at the front of a large, tiered classroom at Slyrest University. The Souls and Spirits class was one of the most anticipated courses, attracting students from various disciplines, magical and non-magical alike. The room hummed with quiet anticipation, the weight of curiosity thick in the air. As I scanned the faces of my students, my eyes landed on Kage, who gave me a small, encouraging nod.

  Taking a deep breath, I began, “Welcome to Souls and Spirits. I’m Zara, and I’ll be your instructor for this course. Here, we will explore the intricacies of necromancy, spirit communication, and the historical context surrounding our abilities. This is not a religious class; I will tell you what I know of souls and spirits from my experience as a necromancer. If you wish to explore the theological implications, I can refer you to the theology department.”

  A murmur passed through the class, a mixture of intrigue and apprehension. I was used to it. Necromancy, more than any other magical discipline, was shrouded in mystery and fear.

  “Necromancers are rare,” I continued. “In all of recorded history, there have been only three widely recognized practitioners. The first was Nolekai The Reviver, who lived over 500 years ago. He was revered and feared in equal measure, using his abilities in service of kings and warlords. The second, Stoghor The Animator, emerged in the northern territories 200 years ago, but his methods were far more controversial, bordering on dangerous experimentation. I am the third.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  There was a hushed silence, students staring at me, wide-eyed. I let the words settle before continuing. “But necromancy is more than raising the dead. It is an understanding of the boundary between life and death, and the weight that comes with it. It is not power to be wielded carelessly. Every time I reach beyond the veil, I feel what the dead have felt. I see what they saw in their final moments. The price of my gift is knowing death intimately.”

  A few students shifted in their seats, and I noticed some exchanging nervous glances. That was to be expected.

  “Over the course of this semester, we will examine the history of necromancy, its ethical dilemmas, and its practical applications. Many of you have likely heard rumors or seen sensationalized accounts in books. I am here to tell you what it really is. What it really means.”

  For the next hour, I guided them through the earliest recorded mentions of necromancy, detailing the fear and reverence that surrounded my predecessors. I used examples from my own work in the morgue, explaining the tethering of spirits, the emotional and physical toll it took on me, and the importance of respecting the souls we interacted with.

  By the end of the lecture, the class had fallen into an attentive silence, fully immersed. Even Kage, who had seen the darker aspects of magic, seemed deeply engaged.

  As the class drew to a close, I opened the floor for questions. A young woman with fiery red hair raised her hand.

  “Professor Zara, how do you cope with the emotional weight of your work?” she asked.

  I paused, considering my answer. The truth was complex, filled with shadows and light. “It’s not easy. Every time I bring a soul back, I experience their death. It’s a burden, but it’s also a privilege. I remind myself that I’m helping families keep their loved ones, and that’s what keeps me going.”

  As the students began packing up their belongings, Kage made his way toward me, his expression unreadable. He waited until the last of the students had filtered out before speaking.

  “You handled that well,” he said, crossing his arms. “You have a way of making people listen.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Necromancy isn’t easy to explain, let alone teach. Most people don’t want to hear about death unless they have to.”

  He nodded, his dark eyes studying me carefully. “It’s not just that. You speak with conviction. Even the ones who looked terrified of you wanted to understand.”

  A small, humorless smile tugged at my lips. “Fear makes people curious.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But respect keeps them listening.”

  His words sat with me longer than I expected. Before I could respond, the doors to the lecture hall burst open with an echoing bang, and Avril, Naja’s roommate, stumbled inside, her face stricken with panic.

  “Avril, what’s wrong?” My heart slammed against my ribs, a cold, creeping dread seeping into my bones.

  “It’s Naja… She’s dead.”

  The world tilted. The breath was ripped from my lungs, my mind resisting the words as they hung in the air like a cruel joke. I was moving before I could think, before I could breathe, Kage right beside me as I tore through the corridors, my pulse hammering like war drums.

  No. No. No.

  Bursting into the emergency room, I felt the floor vanish beneath me. There she was. Still. Silent. The silver glow of her hands extinguished. My vision blurred with tears as I stumbled forward, my hands shaking as they reached for her.

  “Naja,” I whispered, my voice broken, fractured. “No, please, no…”

  I dropped to my knees beside her, the weight of her absence crashing into me like a tidal wave. My breath hitched, then stopped. There was no sound, no movement—just the deafening silence of loss. The hospital, the people, the world—they all faded into a numb, unbearable void.

  Tears burned down my cheeks as I clutched her lifeless hand. I would not accept this. I could not.

  The pain of reaching beyond the veil had never scared me before. But now, it felt like I was grasping at shadows, desperate for a soul that might already be too far gone. My magic roared to life, green light pulsing around us as I called her name, over and over, willing her back.

  Kage stood beside me, his presence a silent support, grounding me when everything inside me was unraveling. My hands trembled as I turned to the doctors surrounding her still body, my desperation spilling into every word.

  “I need to try to save her. Please,” my voice cracked, raw and pleading. “Heal her, and I will bring her back. Just give me a chance.”

  They hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, but I couldn’t afford their doubt. I couldn’t let them waste time. “Please,” I implored, my voice barely above a whisper, thick with the weight of impending loss. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

  One of the doctors finally nodded, and as they began to work on her body, my breath came in shallow, frantic gasps. I could feel Kage’s steady presence beside me, like an anchor as I reached out with my magic, searching desperately for Naja’s soul. My fingers brushed the edge of the tether that still clung to her form, but it was weak, slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers.

  The room was suffocating in its silence, the air thick with tension. Every second felt like an eternity. The lead doctor looked up, eyes somber but firm. “We’ve done all we can. It’s up to you now.”

  My heart pounded. Swallowing back the crushing fear threatening to drown me, I focused all my energy into that fragile connection. “Naja,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Come back to us. Please.”

  The air shimmered, and for a breathless moment, nothing happened. Then, a flicker—her soul stirring, responding. I gasped, pouring every ounce of my strength into pulling her back. Pain shot through me, her final moments slamming into my mind like a tidal wave. Bright blue eyes. The same ones I had seen before. The same eyes that had taken the life of another magical only yesterday.

  A strangled sob escaped my throat, but I held on, willing her to return.

  Then, a gasp—her gasp—broke through the crushing silence. Naja’s chest rose with a shallow breath, her silver glow flickering weakly. Relief flooded me so intensely that my legs nearly gave out beneath me.

  “Naja!” I cried, reaching for her hand, feeling its warmth return. Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes barely opening before they closed again, her body falling still.

  She was alive, but she wasn’t here. She was trapped, stuck in a coma, locked away from me. It wasn’t enough.

  Tears blurred my vision as I gripped her fingers tightly. Kage placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken sorrow. “You did it, Zara. She’s back.”

  I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “But she’s not awake. And I saw him, Kage.” My voice dropped, hollow and shaking. “The same eyes. The same ones that killed that magical yesterday.”

  A chill settled between us, and for the first time, true fear took root inside me. Whoever had done this wasn’t finished. And I wasn’t going to stop until I found them.