A cold mourning breeze whisper as the golden sky greets. Blades of grass sway except for the remaining green on the naked hill. The rich grassland bursting with insect life. The chirping of grasshoppers sings. All of which is interrupted by an echo nearby. The minute insects scatters from the incoming sounds.

From the cold burial grounds of the weeded hill, the sounds of frantic running echoes. Followed by the dirt stomping and bone rattling, the echoes grow louder. A single sickly boy frantically flee. Terrifying hordes of skeletons gave chase to this weak one. Exhausted, he couldn't get very far. Quickly, they caught up. Death, death was all he thought as one viciously jerk his arm. But, the horrific entity of death eyes on the skeletons. The frail hordes break from the force of a majestic spell.

The sickly pale boy looks at the cloaked figure chanting. A bright red light and booming concussion roars. The decimated horde was then, no more. The tall wizard silently inches towards the boy. His boney hands reaching. A shuffling of boot dragging, and a soft breathing frighten the stiff, scared boy. This is the terribly unlucky encounter that brought the boy into the hands of the old wizard. Thedis passed out as the hood covers him from our gazes.

The frail, tall figure muttering as he dragged the boy into his thin arms. In his ailing thoughts: one last chance, one horribly last chance to teach. Sluggish, the shaking wizard carries the sickly boy. The careful steps of his dragging heels echoes.

Careful as he steps, the hunched wizard swaying with his scrawny load. Age wasn't kind to his aching body. The pain of which he bears, agonizing. A price he pays for his actions. The aged wizard doesn't mind. A life saved. He gladly accept this chance to take this scrawny child. He now has a chance to teach an another student in his arts.

The nipping cold agitate his face. The unconscious boy unaware in the arms. The staggering movements of his feet apparent by the dragging of dirt. It didn't stop him. He could see what is in store for the boy. A rough path of sacrifices awaits. Life isn't kind. But it's a great teacher.

The sleepy boy soon awake. Terrible thoughts ran in his mind. The grimace expression of the old man jolts him. It causes the old wizard to drop the weaken kid. Pain in th he rear and legs stinging him. The saddened old man reaching to pat the boy. Frightful, the boy closes his eyes.

A gentle brush and a pat on the brown bush of hair. The boy realize the real intentions. Surprised, his eyes opened and look at the pained expression of the wizard. His ailing savor smiles. In turn, the sickly boy returns a smile. Happy that the hunched wizard wasn't going to hurt him, he stands.

A new friend gained from the experience. A respectable castor to admire. And a new father figure, whose standards that he'll compare himself to. Never, that the frail youth thought this will ever happen to him. He's glad that the scary encounter happened. He's now an eager apprentice to this pained, thin, old champion of magic.

With a warm smile, he accepted the kind, frail wizard's boney hand. No other family to return to, the sickly boy tremble with joy. At least, he'll be cared for. His parents dead from the grisly skeletal raid at the burial mounds. And the wizard and his ailing manner of walking accompany him. In the end, the wobbly wizard chants under his breath. And the dead spirits passes onward into the afterlife. He'll return to the barren mound to purify the dirt and soil. But first, the hunched wizard staggering with the sickly boy in tow.

Back at the burial mound, a lingering sorcerer tried to reraise the foul corpses and skeletons of the dead. The last spell of the frail wizard has completely undone the work he has set. Nothing obeyed. The stinking dead lay still. All the disturbed spirits have peacefully moved on into the quiet afterlife. Even the flesh of the newly killed refused to obey. The essence of death disallow such activities. Powerless and weak, the dark and tall sorcerer broods. He has greatly failed as a necromancer.

A great magic ban his necromanic control. An unfamiliar incantation that interrupt the will of the dark god, Vehenni. The sorcerer seeks answers elsewhere. Nothing have he encountered that prepared for the turning of the undead. The defeated tall castor goes towards his covenant. This was a first for him, to fail by a greater magic.

Writer Pyrotank here. Thank you for reading my first magic story. I admit that I've been writing many short chapter stories. But now, I feel like telling this incredible story that brewed up over weeks. I couldn't tell it normally. So I broken several tales into chapters.

Many translations are added for your convenience. I will finish this story. Bear with the long delays. I am currently writing simultaneously to finish another. Who knows, I might add characters (with permission) from other stories.

Note: possible one shots are ahead. And enjoy.