Page 104 of Woods of the Raven

“Well, you don’t have to worry about zombies at all,” I said authoritatively, “but for the sake of argument, no. You don’t have to concern yourself with me resurrecting anything or having dead animals follow me home.”

“That’s what happens to necromancers?”

“From what I understand, yes. It must be terrifying, especially when they’re young.”

“But if we had a necromancer here, DNA wouldn’t be necessary. They could just ask everyone individually who they were.”

“Sure, but conversely, you have to remember that the soul is gone from those people. Once they were killed, their souls continued on to one of the next stops on their path. So what’s left is like a recording of life. Those people in the hole can tell you who they were, but first, because they’ve been killed, you would have to deal with whatever trauma they went through at the end. That’s another reason necromancers are usually crazy. Imagine having people shriek and scream at you all day, every day, because they don’t know they’re dead. All they do know is the last thing that happened to them, so the fear and horror is visceral for them when they get woken up by a necromancer.”

“But what if a necromancer talks to a person who had a lovely life, who died peacefully and—oh, I see what you’re saying. Why would they be talking to that person.”

“Correct. Necromancers are usually employed by those who need to answer questions about a murder or an inheritance. They need to find a lost treasure or whatever. Necromancers don’t speak to people who left life fulfilled and happy.”

He was staring at me.

“What?”

“It’s what you said earlier… A soul’s path?”

“Too whimsical for you?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “But you believe a soul has many different paths?”

“An infinite number, yes. It doesn’t mean the love doesn’t remain, and that’s why they visit in dreams, but once the soul passes through this life, this manifestation, they go on. I think it’s beautiful, all the experiences and times and people that one soul will enjoy.”

“And if it’s not enjoyable?”

“Then hopefully something was gleaned. That’s what my grandfather always said. Whenever I had a total shitshow of a day, he’d ask if I learned something.”

“And if you said no?”

“Then he’d make me think and try and figure out what the lesson was. He wasn’t the kind of man who just accepted yes or no answers. He was a mage, after all, and all of them live to ask questions. My grandfather was no exception.”

“He sounds like a great man.”

“He was. He could be really annoying but also amazing and great. To hear Amanda tell it, the man walked on water. She dearly loved my grandfather.”

“I bet you thought he was annoying because he made you think before you acted,” Lorne said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Am I right?”

“What? No.”

He scoffed. “I think he and I would have gotten along just fine.”

“Probably so,” I groused at him.

“You’re a bit transparent but I like you anyway,” he assured me. “And one of these days you have to tell me how you and Amanda are connected. I don’t get that at all.”

I smiled at him. “I will.”

“So.” He exhaled deeply. “What now?”

“I’m fairly certain that a hundred years ago, the cultists, followers of Threun, had thought they found the rift in Osprey, somewhere on the land we’re standing on. Subsequently, they murdered all those people in preparation for their god to cross over. But it turned out that the rift on the Phoenix Farm was too small for a god to come through.”

“What do you mean, too small?”

“Gods are very powerful, so for them to cross from their worlds to ours, the opening has to be big enough.”

“That seems crazy to me, since they’re gods or goddesses. Shouldn’t they just be able to go anywhere they want?”