Volume II - Episode 84 Where: Cologne, Germany When: 1 months and 13 days after E-Day, 1:45 am Adrienne’s call came over the radio. The APC lurched forward as the driver gunned the engine. The boy grabbed the Ancient’s arm. “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice tinged with panic. “Just a few blocks,” the Ancient replied, balancing himself on the seat as the APC rounded a corner at high speed. “We’ll be there in a minute or two.” From outside came the sound of an explosion. The sound of a tank firing its main gun. “The other man said you’re going to help a lady?” the boy asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, that’s right.” “Is she like you? Is she a...neckoman?” “Necromancer,” the Ancient corrected, smiling. “And yes, we think she’s a necromancer, just like me.” “Do you know her?” “I haven’t met her yet,” the Ancient said. “She’s a student at a school I work for. A few days ago, some people from the school found her dead in her house. It was very sad. But then, a couple of days later, some other people from the school found that her body had moved into a different room.” The boy looked confused. “Did somebody move her?” The Ancient shook his head. “The first time a necromancer dies, it’s very confusing. Your spirit drifts away from your body, and you can see yourself lying there, dead. It’s very scary and upsetting. But unlike when other spellcasters die, a necromancer feels this...possibility...this compulsion to re-enter their body. Like they are being pulled back by a very strong force. Have you ever been to the beach and felt the waves pushing you back towards the sand?” The boy nodded. “It feels a lot like that. Waves of energy pulling you back to your dead body. You can fight against them, and keep swimming in the other direction if you really want to. But the tug of your body is always there.” “So why doesn’t she come alive again like you did?” the boy asked. “She has tried to do exactly that. But it takes a lot of skill and training to be a necromancer. And without healing her body first, she was probably only able to crawl a very short distance before dying again. It must be very confusing for the poor girl, trapped between her body and her home, dying over and over and over again.” “Her home?” the boy asked. The Ancient looked up, his eyes suddenly full of memory and regret. “Home,” he said. “Just as there are waves that pull a necromancer’s spirit back towards his body, there is another, equally strong undercurrent pushing him in a completely different direction.” “Where?” “Home,” the Ancient repeated. “The home of the necromancers. The City of Ancients. Gorod Drevnih.”