The Necromancer

By Kumar Shaurya Singh

Chapter 1 The Murderer

On the northern end of the river, at the edge of the forest, there was an abandoned shack. It was broken from within, with termite set in its rotting wood and algae creeping up at its edges. No one had lived there in the last 50 years and now, nobody even knew that it existed. But one strange old man was locked inside that desolate house and his eyes had been plucked out, leaving him blind to his surroundings; and his mind had been perverted with such a torrent of black speech that he could not think clearly even for a single second. He had given up on any thought of hope and just like his vision, his mind had gone completely dark as well. He was just waiting for the tormentor to come back and finish the deed. Outside, in the wet field, a carcass was thrown near the stump of the dead tree and amidst wilting flowers and fading grass, a small pack of wolves were feasting upon the meat of the hunted deer. But, the moment their nose caught the strange scent, their tails went flying underneath their legs and all of them scattered from the scene and fled into the depths of the forest. A dark, cloaked figure was approaching the shack and his pale face was hidden by the shadows in which he walked. Like a wolf, he scanned the surroundings and recognizing the putrid stench, he sensed the presence of other predators and hastened to proceed to his business quickly. The shack door opened with a creak and the ominous sound of his footsteps was heard by the blinded old man. His voice rose with a whimper, in his throat, but died within, as if it were a moth that flutters its wings the final time before its death. The cloaked figure sensed his fear and said: ‘So… Did you retrieve it? Did you remember where your son and his wife live? Where their daughter lives? Do you have the answer for me?’ A bolt of shiver ran down the spine of the old man and his chest trembled uncontrollably as he sensed the cloaked figure coming close to him. The letters of their address revolved in his thoughts, but he kept his lips tight shut and refused to reveal the location of his son to the abhorrent creature who had blinded him. He locked his tongue in between his mouth and maintained his silence. The cloaked figure pulled out a steel dagger from the depth of its pocket and it was almost as big as his arms. He touched the cold tip of the steel and caressed the skin of the old man with it before saying: ‘This fast that you have kept for your speech… Now is the last time to break it, my dear friend. Tell me. Do you have their address?’ A streak of tear issued from the damaged eye of that old man and slid across the cheek. But red hot anger coursed within the veins of the cloaked figure and a furious wave of wrath erupted from his heart as the old man maintained his mum. Ultimately, the cloaked figure roared: ‘Very well then !’ He raised the dagger and stabbed the old man right in the middle of his chest as deep-guttural grunts erupted from the old man. The dark being stabbed him multiple times and the old man took those blows right in his heart and kept calling for strength as he was being murdered. The bloody steel tip of the dagger finally shattered the rib cage and tore through the heart of the old man who finally died and stopped grunting. But the cloaked being had just begun his sport and he continued to stab and stomp the corpse as loud slams and slaps reverberated around the abandoned shack. Outside, black crows had gathered near the carcass and they dipped their beaks in the entrails of the dead being and feasted on its flesh until their beaks were smeared with its red. But, when the bloody murder fest finished within the shack, they unfolded their dark wings and took flight and their black form disappeared in the gloom of the thick mist and they were lost forever.

Chapter 2

The Professor

A thick blanket of grey fog unrolled on the streets of Urgal and shrouded it with its black mist. It was a small town set within a valley around which its famous Rhea river flowed. Not many visitors that town got and its business chiefly arose from hunting and fishing that occured around its place, but that month even those activities had come to a stand still and most of them were afraid to set their steps out of their homes. Early in the morning, amidst the mists and fog, the voice of the local news boy tore through the streets: Beware! Beware! The murderer still lurks in the shadows. The blood thirsty killer is loose and he creeps along the corners. Beware ! Beware ! Citizen of Urgal ! Another double murder has occured within the walls of our very own town! Citizens ! Beware ! The blood thirsty murderer is lurking !’ The lone voice of that young boy echoed around the empty streets even as the grim thoughts of violent deaths arose in the minds of all the inhabitants. In the past two weeks, seventeen bodies had been recovered from various houses and many were still missing. Like chickens that are locked in cages before they are slaughtered, the citizens of that Urgal town were confined within their homes and none of them dared to step out in the streets - even at the early hours of morning. The town chief office and the police force were the only active entities in that entire place who administered the movement of other essential services as the threat of the dangerous killer troubled all the minds of that town. Professor Jonas Jackson had been locked inside his house for the last two weeks. Inwardly, he knew that he was not a coward, but he also knew that his very old colleague’s dead body had been found floating in the river. Its ghastly white face still loomed in front of his eyes as he tried to compose sleep and no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake off the ominous sense of peril that had settled in his heart. Never had he experienced a terror like this in all his life. Never had he lost so many familiars within such a small period. His thoughts were still composed but he knew that if he remained locked in his house for one more day, then his mind would explode and he would crack from within. He was in urgent need of some purpose. Luckily, for him, in the afternoon, when a bare tinge of orange had smeared the grayness of the mist, his house bell rang loudly and its vibrations reverberated around the silence of his empty house. Professor Jonas put up his best appearance and answered the door. It was detective Paetar and he was dressed in his brown coat that always signified business. The professor invited the detective inside and offered him a pipe and tobacco. The detective accepted gratefully and filled the bowl deeply with the foreign tobacco. Then, after lighting it up with his matchstick, he said: ‘How are you holding up?’ A puff of sweet smoke enveloped the two gentlemen as both of them exhaled their cigarette out and relished the rush of its nicotine. The professor said: ‘I’m two days away from insanity. Honestly, if I don’t step out of this damned hole for another day then I’ll just drop dead here. I say, better die out there than forfeit my soul in this abhorrent crack.’ The detective exhaled his fumes and they leaked both from his nostrils and his mouth as the smoke coalesced with the tobacco cloud of his friend and enveloped both of them in its rich smell. Then he said: ‘You don’t know what it is like out there. Bloody bloated corpses…veins popping, and gas and puss. It's a living hell, I tell you. Living hell… You know, yesterday, we found an old man by the shack… ugh…its so disgusting…when we recovered it, its innards had been gorged out… ’ He belched loudly as the images rushed across his mind. ‘Holy God… You don’t suppose…’ ‘No No. It wasn’t the killer…Work of wolves. But I don’t doubt for one second that the sick bastard must have left it there purposefully…’ ‘Holy…Holy God! Forgive us and bless us and free us from this demon O God. We know we have sinned O Lord. Forgive us -’ ‘Jackson,’ the detective interrupted him loudly, ‘The Priest too… he’s dropped dead too.’ The wooden pipe slipped from Jonas’s hand and fell with a clatter on the ground, strewing his tobacco everywhere as he stared in dumb shock at his friend. Then in a hoarse voice he spoke: ‘ Father Anton ?’ His face went fully white and cold beads of sweat manifested on his forehead. ‘He’s been killed?’ The detective sighed and put his pipe on the table as he said: ‘No. Not murdered. Actually we don’t know. Its quite fucked up.’ He picked up the pipe once again, took three very deep drags and continued: ‘The Priest, his wife, and his children are all dead. The Children and wife were murdered, but the priest… well he hung himself.’ Jonas managed to whisper: ‘Hung himself ?’ The detective continued: ‘Yeah. Nothing is known. By the looks of it, the child and the woman were killed about a week ago or two. The whole thing stank worse than morgue…but we’re pretty sure that the priest committed suicide quite recently…both his children…so young.’ The two men shuddered at the violent train of images that crept up in their thoughts. But the detective hadn’t come to the professor for a friendly visit. There was a very serious matter that he wished to discuss with him. So, as the other retrieved his pipe and refilled it with tobacco, the detective pulled out a black hardbound journal from the depths of his pocket and placed it loudly on the wooden table. Then he said: ‘I am under the impression that you are fluent with the language Yarai. Am I correct?’ The Professor inhaled the smoke in his lungs and nodded. ‘Well,’ the detective continued, ‘ this has been taken from Father Anton’s house. I believe it is a long suicide note…an essay, or something that he has left for us. No one back at the force knows jack shit about Yarai but I told them that I’ll decipher it…. Can you take a look at it?’ Professor Jackson pulled out his spectacles from the shelf that was behind him and from under the table he retrieved a small glass lamp that was filled with kerosine oil. He found the matchstick and after lighting his tobacco, he lit the lamp as well and set it on the table as the light filled the room with its orange glow. Then he opened the black notebook and glanced through the pages, drinking in every letter that the familiar hand of the priest had scrawled upon the pages. Finally, he said: ‘I am sure that this was written by Father Anton himself, but I am not really as fluent in reading Yarai as I am in listening and speaking it. I’m still working on the script. Anyway, I can tell you that this is definitely not a note…more like a journal narrative that….I think… recounts the murder and leads up to the suicide .’ He shuddered as those violent images ran in his thoughts again. Then he said: ‘Well. Paetar, I can’t decipher the text for you right now…it will take me at least ten to twelve hours to finish it properly. Then I’ll let you know. Besides, the memory of that beautiful man is still running in my mind and I cannot go through these narratives of horror as his honorable face swarms in front of my eyes. I’ve known him long enough to at least spend one dark evening in mourning. So do give me this night for my sorrow and I promise that by tomorrow evening, I’ll have the narrative ready for you.’ Detective Paetar smiled and put his hand on the shoulder of his friend to reassure him and said: ‘Take all the time you need my friend. These are very dark times indeed, but in our horror, we must not forget to honour those who deserve it. Whatever end Father Anton came to, throughout his life, he had served all of us with utmost devotion and respect and I think it is right of you to mourn him. I will come back tomorrow. Then we can get a crack in the case I suppose.’ ‘I am positive that we will.’ The two men came to an agreement and finished their tobacco in silence. Then The Detective left and The Professor locked up his house, sealing all windows tightly and ensuring that not even one lock was left unturned. Then he went to sleep and resigned himself to the mournful dreams that plagued him. But after a while, the sweet draught of sleep consumed his mind and all visions vanished from within as the complete darkness of deep sleep settled in his soul and he slept peacefully. Yet, unfortunately, out there, somewhere in the town, there was one soul, who was not so lucky and, in the middle of the night, it encountered the dark murderer right in his house and tried to scream for help even as he was being murdered. But the cold limbs of the killer choked his throat and crushed his windpipe and before he could cope with the horror of his situation, his soul fled his body and the corpse was violently mutilated by the dangerous murderer.

Chapter 3 The Triplets

The next morning was grim and cold for another wave of fog had enveloped the town of Urgal in its thick shroud. The citizens were at unease and many attempted to fight off the anguish of their hearts as their anxiety mounted in their thoughts and perverted the peace of their sleep. Fathers were protective of their children, Mothers were worried sick for their safety, and husbands and wives were constantly checking their doors, unable to fend off the ominous sense of foreboding that lurked outside their walls. In the history of that Urgal, it was the darkest period. Professor Jonas Jackson had gathered a good deal of sleep that night but his morning began in the most blood curdling fashion. A terrible wail had erupted the glum of the morning silence and the high pitched screams of a woman pierced through the walls of all the houses and called their attention. ‘Help me! Please help me! My daughters… all my daughters ! Please. Someone ! Please help me.’ The professor threw open the gate of his bedroom window and looked outside. Many others were also witnessing the spectacle in a similar manner. There, at the center of the street, a woman was lying on the road, her shaggy hair unkempt and untied and her white gown muddied and blotched with blood. Black mascara was running down her face, streaming with her dark tears and all that time she continued to wail and sob like a banshee urging them to come out and help her, screaming for her daughters. ‘Please! Somebody. He has murdered them. My daughters ! He has killed them all. My baby girl. My Regina ! My Elena ! Where have you gone? Please come back to me, my baby girls!’ The anguish of human suffering tormented the professor in his thoughts and a wave of anxiety erupted from his heart but some force still kept him locked in his position. Likewise, all other spectators were also frozen in their houses and no matter how terrible they felt at the plight of the lady, they could not force themselves to go out and assist her. A cowardly fear gripped their hearts and prevented them from jumping to action. As the woman continued to shriek and sob, the town sergeant appeared at the scene and he had two police officers with him. The party of three approached the woman even as she began to tear her hair and roll on the ground. Professor Jonas watched her with a bubble of pity swelling in his heart but he could not force himself to go down in the street and comfort her. Fortunately, one of the police officers was sensible enough to crouch down and comfort the shrieking lady with her own handkerchief. She wiped her face off and pulled her and assisted her until she was seated at the street bench by the wall. Then she comforted her by hugging her and the woman sobbed in her shoulders and cried her heart out. Finally, after about half an hour, she was sober enough to recount the details of the incident. By this time, The Lieutenant and The Detective had also come to the scene. Upon seeing his friend arrive, The Professor also found a flame of courage burning in his heart and he too carried himself to the seat where the woman was stationed. Ultimately, between sobs, the woman revealed: ‘Last night, when I had tucked Alyssia, Elena, and Regina to bed, I was feeling very cold and miserable. You all already know how Roger was murdered last week and I cannot…I cannot recount that horrible tale. Yesterday, I was feeling very lonely and forlorn and the cold crept up in my bones like it was going to bite me from within. So I carried myself to the fireplace and set the lumps of coal on fire so as to warm myself. I was just fiddling with the wood when I heard the sound of footsteps heading closer towards our house. I didn’t know…I should have known…I am so stupid…’ The police officer gripped her hand and said: ‘No you are not. Keep going Erica. You are strong and your narrative is going to help us catch that barbaric monster. Keep going…’ The lady gulped and gazed at the ground as she continued: ‘I heard the footsteps first… but they were immediately followed by a loud grunt and before I knew it, he started slamming the door with his brutal axe. Right in front of my eyes he hecked down the door and so frozen was I that I couldn't even move a muscle. A scream went off in my head but none came to my mouth and I just stood there - petrified, as that demon bashed the front door down. Nobody came to help…Nobody interfered…. ‘The demon like man came in and threw the axe at the wall and gripped me hard by the neck. I know his pale face in my heart now… It is the white face of death. Murder I read in his eyes and I knew that I was a goner…that he had got me, and I found my strength failing as he strangled me and choked my windpipe to death. But before the black screen of death could take over, my mind resisted strongly and I pictured the sleeping face of my three daughters in front of my eyes and a crazy surge of strength erupted in my veins. I had known it not but I was still carrying the iron poker in my hands and it was red hot from the fire of the coal. Thinking about my daughters, I attacked the monster with that iron rod and burned his face with the red hot end. ‘He screamed loudly, a sound none have heard, and then he kicked me hard in my stomach. Pain lurched within me and I fell swooping down to the ground, unable to breathe as I struggled to get up. But when my senses had returned to me, I ran like a witch to secure my daughter…but…but…’ She wailed like a banshee once more and it took the officers another half hour to comfort her. Finally, she concluded the narrative: ‘The monster had smashed the window of their bedroom open and taken all three of them. He had jumped with them from the height of the second storey! My babies. My Alyssia…she’s just 8 years old. They are all 8 years old! Please officer! Lieutenant ! Save them please. Please, he’ll murder them and gorge their heart out. Please sir !’ The police officers took her back to the pharmacy station where they had set up an emergency healing camp. Meanwhile, The Lieutenant conversed with the detective and spoke to him rapidly. Ultimately, the detective approached The professor and asked: ‘Sir? Any updates? Where are you with the text?’ The Professor’s face had gone white upon listening to the horrific account of the kidnapping incident and as this new urgency arose from the situation, the weight of his task settled on his shoulder and he replied: ‘Just give me 10 hours. I’ll translate the entire text and copy it in my notebook so that others may also go through it. Just give me 10.’ The detective looked back and sighed as he said: ‘The quicker you finish this, the better our position will be. So far, this is our only lead. Please be quick Jonas. I implore you.’ The professor nodded and rushed back into his house where he pulled out the black notebook and deposited it on his study table. Then he procured fresh parchments and after dipping his pen in the pot of his ink he opened the book and started translating every single word. By sun set, he had finished his task.

Chapter 4:

The Narrative of Father Anton.

‘As I seat myself down to write my thoughts out on these sheets of paper, I realize that the past few days have been quite dark and gruesome for me. In sooth, a horrendous tragedy has struck my life and even as I scrawl these letters on the pages, the dead face of my wife stares at me. In the past, I was haunted indeed, by the unmoving eyes and by the putrid stench of her corpse, but even as I write, I find my mind settling into a state of equilibrium that makes me well poised in my thoughts. Thus, I can write freely that I am in no state of shock or delirium. All of my senses are sharp and my mind is running at a speed that is natural to it. Everything seems to be working just fine. When her murder had took place, I had spiralled into a state of abysmal despair. I knew not the knowledge of my senses nor did I have a reign over my thoughts. A tormenting current ran up and down my spine like it were a viper and I retched continuously for hours. I do not recall the black moments of those hours very well but I clearly remember the feeling of having to swallow something unpleasant as if I was being forced to consume a rotten, repulsive, and poisonous fruit. There was no fruit. It was just my guilt that kept torturing me and for uncounted moments I lived like a lunatic, not knowing what to do or whither to go. Ultimately, the black fog of despair cleared from my soul and a little light shone once again in my thoughts and I knew that I had to write the events down. That was the only thing which made sense to me, and thus, I have set down to complete my task. May God aid me in finishing my quest.

It is not the first time that I have endeavored to capture my thoughts in scripts and sheets. Even before, in my life, I had maintained a journal, and in that journal, I had recorded everything that had passed into my consciousness. My dreams were written down, my fancies were jotted there, and my daily routine was also inscribed upon the sheets. For a long time had I maintained that text. But, a little while ago, when the anguish of my soul had reached its peak, a crazy fit of delirium had tormented my thoughts and I had ended up burning each and every single paper of that document. I still do not know whether that was the right thing to do, but my insides shudder violently whenever I think about that notebook and the content that I wrote in that notebook. Perhaps it was the will of God that forced me to burn that abhorrent thing away from existence. Regardless, since that evidence of my consciousness has vanished away from this world, I am compelled to write this narrative down so that those who go through it may learn what I had to learn through experience and so that the mistakes which I have atrociously committed may be remedied by the words that I write here on these sheets. It is confirmed in my thoughts that this task of mine is the final task for me in this world of pain and after this I’ll depart from my body, either to ascend to the thrones of heaven or to go down into the pits of hell, where undeserving souls like me usually go. Thus, I’ll begin narrating the events in an order that best suits them and I hope that the reader may gather enough wisdom from the sheets so as to remedy the errors that my soul has committed. Throughout my youth, I had been known for my good looks and graceful behavior. I had borne utmost respect for my elders and in a gentle manner I had courted everyone who had come to me, be it eldery ladies or little children. I had always treated everyone with respect. Thus, throughout my life, I had been respected as well. No matter where I had been, people had always been kind to me and their friendly faces still swim in my consciousness as I write about them. This virtue of mine has always granted me admission in those societies of people who are regarded highly for their esteem and who have helped humanity by their highly intellectual and compassionate endeavors. Various authors had approached me for my thoughts on theology and I had been fortunate enough to address many gatherings of pupils so as to instruct them on the art of loving God and finding Him in the darkest moment of our lives. Many of my friends and admirers still send me letters and cards to appreciate the work that I had performed for them and here I must confess that in these deeds, I had always been devoted and pious. Thus, I have built a name for myself in many societies and even in this town of Urgal, I am well known and respected by all the individuals.

But the narrative that I am about to reveal here right now might uproot all their ideas about me and it may launch such a petulant blotch on my character that I am forced to ask them to consider my life in its totality and not just base their judgement on this one little segment that I have kept hidden from everyone. This little truth, I bare for the first and last time in front of all, a truth which I have carried with me ever since I came to this town of Urgal. It is the truth of The Necromancer. When I was still a professor in the College of Yara, I had received a letter from my Grandfather who had called me to the town of Urgal so that I may step in his shoes and continue to teach the pupils about our own school of thought. I was well instructed in all the discourses and my manners had quite pleased my grandfather who had seen in me a small version of himself. Thus he had passed on the ownership of the town chapel to me and had given me the keys to all the rooms and chambers. Here, it might shock my acquaintances to know that when I had come to the town, I was already married to a beautiful woman who went by the name of Helena and she was my first wife. She had been the love of my life and had always taken care of me in a way that only a wife can. Thus, I had moved into the town of Urgal with her and little did anyone know about me or about her. It was only after I had moved that I received the final letter from my Grandfather, who has never contacted me ever again and has disappeared from my life as if he had been turned into a phantom. The letter said: “Dear Anton. It is with sublime pride and sheer happiness that I am sending this letter to you on this address. For the past few years, the worry of the chapel’s inheritance had driven me half insane, but I have finally been freed from that burden thanks to your generous acceptance of the offer. I would like to congratulate you on your occupancy. Now that the ceremonies have been dealt with, I would like to confide in you, a secret which I hope you will never ever expose to anyone - not even to your wife or children. It is a secret that you, as my blood, must take with yourself to the grave and let me warn you right now that all those who have attempted to reveal it to the others have always met with a gruesome and violent end for their actions. Thus, open up your heart and swallow the knowledge that I reveal to you and never bare it to anyone else. When you start exploring the chapel, you will find a wooden door in the eastern part of the building that opens to a spiral stairway. This path leads to the basement of the chapel and there you will find many doors. One of these doors is made of iron and it is bolted and locked with an iron padlock. The keys have already been given to you. When you have gathered enough maturity in your soul, then you must unlock this door of the basement and go through the dark aisle that opens up from it. It is a passage - dark and long, and it keeps going on and on until it opens up to a small cave that has a dark green pond within it. It is here that you will encounter The Necromancer. It is at this place that your destiny will be revealed to you. The Necromancer is a wicked being, knowledge of whom has always stayed with our family. My Grandfather had passed it to me and his grandfather had passed it to him. Likewise, I pass this knowledge to you and I hope that you will embellish the wisdom and understanding that we have gathered and carry the legacy forward. This Demon of Hell must remain locked in iron chains and shackles. All his limbs must always be fettered and it is your duty to ensure the imprisonment of this terrible creature. You must descend down to this cave on a regular basis and you must check upon the abhorrent creature lest the passing of time weakens the strength of those chains that binds him and this monster of the underworld is released out there in the world. You must never let that happen my dear boy. Always call God to defend your soul and always perform your duty like The Father. This is a secret and a curse that all of us bear and we must be the ones to defend the others from this wicked creature of the underworld. Never let anyone find out about your secret. Never let anyone discover this cave. This truth of the soul dies with us and all of us have sworn to defend it to death. So honour your possession my dear lad and best of luck for all your adventures.” The strange narrative of my Grandfather had perturbed my thoughts indeed, but a piercing curiosity also erupted from my heart that compelled me to discover everything that I could about this Necromancer. Thus, that very night, when my lovely Helena, had gone to bed, I crept out from under the sheets and after lighting the lantern, I waded down to the basement and travelled through the souterrain until I had found the cave with the pond. It was vivid green indeed and on the other end, hidden in a cavity by the wall, I spotted the mien of the monster that has so infamously murdered the soul of helpless victims. I will not lie here: I was attracted by the sombre sense of darkness that emerged from it and I felt like my mind was being called towards an enchanting lull of serenity. Here I committed my foremost error of my long chain of errors, and if I could wind back time and change the course of events that happened, then this is the only one that I will remove from my consciousness so that the blood of many may be saved from their horrible demise. It is true that The Necromancer was locked in his iron chains and his limbs were in shackles but I felt a curious sense of compassion for him and thought about developing a bond with him so that I may understand the plight of his existence. I must say that a thought worse than this has never appeared in my soul and as long as I live, this memory of mine will always torment me, reminding me of the ghastly evil that I commited that day: I struck a friendship with that creature. He did not look fiendish to me at all. His features were like that of an absurdly large man who has a cunning mind but whose unexceptional size distorts his figure and presents him in an ugly fashion. I approached him and attempted to converse with him, and I must admit that he was highly volube in his speech and articulated his feelings with such refined precision that I was impressed by the starling power of his verbal expression. At length, he spoke to me about his past and revealed the nature of my Grandfather to me, and before I knew it, I was caught in its spell and felt closer to him the more I listened to him. A calming sense of peace engulfed me as I drank in his verbal narrative and somewhere within, I felt a bit attracted to him, as if he carried in him a side of life that I could never ever experience. To me, he felt like the embodiment of that freedom which had been locked without any reason. His thoughts were grand and they were filled with romantic fancy. But there was dangerous terror in them as well and it was this terror only that fascinated me. It kept me enchanted. Thus, I spent the entire night listening to him and the next night as well, I snuck into his cave and listened to his discourses as his dreamy visions clouded my mind with a strong sense of serenity and I found myself floating in a haze of tranquility. It was as if my soul had been incomplete without him, and as I spent more time with him, I learned things about myself that I had hidden deep in my psyche. He unleashed all those things for me and released those desires of mine that had been locked away in the caverns of my mind. I was finally learning to become free in my thoughts. But I grew terribly afraid of articulating these thoughts back in my society. While I continued to nurture my bond with this fiend of the underworld on one end, on the other end, in the town of Urgal my reputation increased because of my acts of generosity and I grew afraid of airing my dark passions to everyone. Thus, I hid my thoughts from others and never let them know that side of my mind which was filling up with the darkness that this fiendish monster was pouring. A schism grew in me and it split me apart in two, where I hid the darker version from the world and kept those dark thoughts secured in my mind, while the other version of mine, I aired in a pompous fashion, articulating all my words with aristocratic quality and letting others know about the generosity of my being. The people of the town did not know about my encounter with The Necromancer. They did not know about those thoughts which I articulated with the fiend. Had they known, they would have stripped me of my title and flayed me alive, for I conversed with the monster about hatred and I talked to him about anger and murder. He spoke to me about thoughts of stealing and rape. He taught me the truth behind rage and fury. As I spent more and more time with him, my mind opened up to that version of the soul which is dark and which belongs to the dominion of the devil. I must write: I was enchanted by the devil - there was a romantic fancy in it that attracted me towards it and as I tasted a little bit of darkness, I grew more and more hungry; until one day I had no choice but to satiate my hunger not with my thoughts but with my action. It chanced that as I crept down one night, to converse with The Necromancer, Helena, who had always bothered me about my late night prancings, ended up following me. So mad was I with my lust to converse with the fiend that I paid no need to the sound of her steps as they followed me and in my frenzy I continued to move through the passage leading her straight to the cave and to the home of that being. But the moment she discovered the place and spotted the being, a horrible scream erupted from her throat and she sprinted back to the cave; and so startled was I from that incident that I thought not about the consequence and chased her down and pushed her as hard as I could. She fell down and cracked her temple on the jagged piece of stone that jutted from the ground and I knew that she had been murdered by me. Yet not a morsel of guilt did I feel for that crime for I knew that it was wrong of her to inspect my nightly wanderings especially when I had warned her not to do so. So, I carried her corpse back with me and deposited it to The Necromancer who congratulated me for my efforts and respected me for my actions. In a hoarse voice he said to me: “Today, Anton, you have embraced a side of yourself that has always existed within you. Don’t restrain it again. I say unleash it and enjoy your freedom as much as you can. This is your world and you are its Lord.” I did feel like a Lord that night, and as I sat next to The Necromancer, I watched him conjure his magic of the underworld in front of my eyes. He enchanted the corpse of my dead wife such that it lifted up in the air and moved like it was animated. The thaumaturgy of her animation bewildered my wits indeed but I knew that her soul had departed completely from her body and it was only the magic of The Necromancer that moved her limbs. Yet, even as I saw the chicanery, the murdered body of my dead wife disintegrated into a cloud of dust that spiralled towards The Necromancer and I watched him consume the dead remains of my recently deceased wife. The moment he devoured her body, he acquired a little more color in his own body and I saw the lines of ages disappearing from his face. It was as if the murder had rejuvenated his tiring body. He felt appeased and satisfied and his satisfaction brought satisfaction to me. I sensed that he was hungry for more and his hunger created hunger in me as well. Thus I ached for more. Helena was unknown to everyone else. She had remained within the house and no one had acquainted themselves with her. Thus no one noticed her absence. This allowed me a chance to enter a second marriage. This time, I married Alexandra, and it was her big blue eyes that had pierced my heart with the arrow of love such that I ended up bringing her to my house. She was a beautiful and brilliant soul, one who loved to spend time with animals and always did she nurture plants and took care of them. I was in love with her, for a short while, but after some days, my passion had wilted, like a dead rose flower, and I knew that she had become a big nuisance to me. So, one Sunday afternoon, as she went out to gather pots for her plants, I captured three of her pet dogs and beat them to near death. Then I took them to the cave and there, I drowned two of them in the pond while the third one, I offered to The Necromancer alive. Once again, he performed his evil artifice and once again the dead body of the beings turned to dust and were consumed by The Evil Being. Once again I saw him grow healthy and then I knew that my own hunger was satiated. I derived a sinless pleasure from appeasing that monster and here I must admit that in those moments I was drunk with the bliss of that ruse which the discourse of that Necromancer had created in my head. I was in love with him and could not find enough strength to counter his wile machinations. Eventually, as the dread of losing her favorite pets mounted in the soul of my wife, she ended up overdosing herself with drugs that the pharmacist had procured for her and before I knew it, I had offered her dead body to The Necromancer as well and faked her burial for the public world. He had grown quite strong by now and the chains that held him caged did not look so promising. My mind was completely swirling in the darkness that he had created for me, but deep down, somewhere in my memory, I still remembered the words that my Grandfather had told me: “You must always keep him imprisoned.” Thus, I never entertained those thoughts which prompted me to release him and always did I keep him locked in the souterrain. Likewise, the dark side of my life which I had begun to feast upon so gloriously was also locked within that basement and never did I reveal my true self to anyone. I continued to put up a facade for the others and my acts of generosity continued to grow in their counts. I was still being contacted by esteemed individuals and never could anyone discern in me that side of my consciousness which had been plagued by the darkness of this evil and which had succumbed to that level of hell from which salvation is not possible. Everything remained hidden for a long time. Yet, as months passed into years, it became difficult for me to play this two sided role. From within, I was becoming more and more impatient, ready to lash out in anger at those who made mistakes and always thinking of murdering as the final solution. But outside, I had to maintain my appearance, for I knew that society would butcher me like a pig if it knew the thoughts that were boiling in my soul. This schism tore me apart from within. I knew not who I was anymore and I yearned to release my true self in front of everyone. Ultimately, a chance presented itself in front of me where I acquired a choice to choose either side of my soul. Unfortunately, I chose the darker path and it is that path which has led me to the most terrible fate that any human has gone through. There is a friend of mine, known by the name of Dr. Charles Webster. He is quite famous around this town and as a connoisseur of literature, he has also travelled into many other countries and knows as many as 33 languages. A marvel he is, a genius of very high calibre with a sharp intellect. Naturally, when he came to our town, he ended up interacting with me and during our conversations, we ended up debating the topic which is the most heated of them all: The reality of God. Now, throughout my life, I have always exercised my patience choosing to value wisdom and understanding over ignorance and stupidity and thus I have always respected the opinion of others, no matter how harsh they may seem to be. But lately, the equanimity of my soul had deserted me and thus, when I got into an argument with the doctor, the first thought that rose in my mind was to slaughter him right then and there. A major altercation had erupted between the two of us and no matter how hard I tried to present my view, he would always shake his head and refuse to accept my claims. In the end, I was triggered, and a murderous desire gripped by soul, so much so that I envisioned burning his living flesh. Yet, I exercised restraint on my thoughts and waited until he had departed. By this time, I had already been married to my third wife, Katrina, with whom I had conceived a daughter many years ago; and I loved her soul more than anything in the world. But, the anguish of my inner conflict burned my thoughts and I knew that she could help me in carrying out my plan without any failure. So, I asked her to invite the good doctor back for dinner with the pretence that I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I knew that the invitation from my end wouldn't furnish anything but the charming manners of my wife would win his heart immediately and he wouldn’t be able to refuse. Thus, I included her in my plans and set her to motion. Then, I went to the basement and entered the cave once again where I deplored my heart out to The Necromancer. He listened patiently and after understanding my desire, he conjured a small glass flask for me, in which he spit his saliva and asked me to poison the drink of my enemy with it. I pocketed that phial of poison and awaited the person of my foe with a malignant intent set upon my heart. When the evening came, I knew not which glass he would take, so I poured the entire potion in the flask, knowing that my wife is not a drinker and concluding that I will not take even a single sip of the drink when it is served. Finally, after waiting, the moment arrived, and my wife presented the table with many meals that she had prepared for us. Amidst Roast Mutton and Pork strips, I set down the flask of wine for him and poured the poisoned potion in his golden goblet, smiling as I did it. He downed it in one go and demanded for more. Pleased, I kept on serving him until I saw the bloody red lush of wine smear upon his cheeks and as his head bobbled with the intoxication of that drink, I called forth our original argument once again and cursed him right at his face. The argument started once again and so heated did the debate become that he ended up leaving the table and departed. But I knew that his departure would be not just from my house, but from the very world. So I continued to chase him as he left the house and I shouted loudly at him, cursing him for his obnoxious views and deriving pleasure from my unleashed freedom. Yet so stark was my horror when I returned that I doubled back and screamed loudly in the dining room as I saw that my wife had poured herself a drink and finished it completely. She had said: “A crazy evening it has been, hasn’t it honey?” Even as she finished her sentence, the goblet of wine slipped from her fingers and clanged on the floor. Her eyes turned bloodshot red and her throat went blue as a terrible fluidy foam oozed out from her nostrils and mouth and she retched on the floor. Then she fell on all fours and tried to cough her insides out as the poison reacted with her bloodstream and started killing her in front of my own eyes. My daughter too emerged from her room and ran to the dying body of my wife screaming: “Mamma! What’s happening to Mumma ! Dadda ! Do something.” I knew not what to do. Chaotic vortex tormented my thoughts and my entire body started shivering. I ran down to the basement and ran till my sides seared until I reached the cave. There, I pleaded with The Necromancer to save my wife. He laughed gleefully and said: “Another one down? Well. Mr Anton. Looks like you are going to score a hat-trick.” “Please ! Please save her. I love her from the bottom of my heart. She means the world to me. Save her please.” I continued to implore him. Ultimately he said: “I cannot save her from down here, and now there isn’t time to bring her here either. If you want to see her alive, you must unleash me. Remove the binds that keep me chained and I’ll see to her salvation. Open my bonds Anton.” In my feverish state of frenzy, I thought not about the consequences of my actions and fumbled for my keys which were always kept in the depths of my pocket. There, I unlocked the terrible fiend with my own hands and the moment he was freed from the chains, I knew that I had committed the most atrocious sin that any living being can commit on this planet. For the moment he had been freed, he had roared like a demon and an exhilarating laugh had erupted from his chest that shook the roof of the cave and reverberated around ominously. He pushed me away such that I fell into the pond and once I had emerged, he was nowhere to be seen. A fiery bolt of horror butchered my heart and my soul shivered in terror as my thoughts spirralled in a black vortex and I ran like a mad-man towards my house. There, as I reached the basement, a blood curdling scream erupted from the throat of my daughter and my veins shriveled inside my body the moment I heard her voice scream in black horror. I lunged forward and opened the door, but it was too late. The Necromancer had grabbed her little form with his palm and his cold fingers were closing on her small neck with a vice like grip. Her face turned blue right in front of my eyes and voiceless I screamed and ran to stop him. But before I could get to him, he hurled the body of my daughter towards the wall where it crashed with the painting and fell on the floor. So grave has been the anguish of my soul that not even God, even if he forgives me a thousand times, can remedy the pain that I must endure on account of the deaths that I have designed for my blood relatives and myself. As the terror of my past torments my soul, it is only this act of writing that calms my disposition and creates a sense of clarity in me. But now, this narrative is about to reach its end for beyond this point, nothing much has to be told. After murdering my daughter, The Necromancer departed from the chapel and ever since then the entire town has been plagued by the murders that he has been comitting. My own soul has continued to suffer because of everything that he has done but courage I don’t have to go out into the public and reveal the truth to everyone. I know that The Necromancer brings the bodies of his victim back to his cave and it is in the cave only that he has established his base. Thus, if ever, anyone has to catch that heathen, then the cave should be the first and the foremost place to look for him. It is where he will be found. Furthermore, I would like to reveal that through the discourses that I held with The Necromancer, I have found out that he is afraid of fire and of all the materials that grow in this godly good world, it is only fire that can torture him and torment him to the pain of death. Thus, if there are any beings out there who do endeavor to finish him, it is fire that should do the deed. Yet, this must be told as well that fire is but a temporary solution. This dark creature of the underworld is a natural growth that is bound to return again and no matter how hard we try to burn it, it will come back once again. Thus, the only thing that we can do from our end is to keep it caged and never entertain him, for if we commit that error, then the wicked being will enchant our thoughts with delusionary passions until we end up succumbing to that level of life that is reserved for beings in hell. Now, finally my narrative finally comes to an end, and I hope that those who go through it may learn a lesson or two from it. I have narrated everything that recounts my terrible experience with the monster and now having finished my burdensome task, I end my duties and move on to finish my life. May God Protect You. May He Bless your Soul. Amen.’

Chapter 5

The Cave

The monday morning was grim, as grim as the previous two mornings, but by noon, a little wave of wind had emerged from the north and the clouds had begun to disperse. It felt, to the citizens of Urgal, that the dull smugness of the weather was about to depart after all. Professor Jackson had spent the entire day at The Police Office where the sergeants were training the officers to prepare them for the attack that they were about to unleash at the cave. The Narrative of The Father had been read by almost everyone and they knew that fire was their only weapon against that abhorrent freak. So, they were all busy in the preparations of fiery bottle based incendiary instruments. Petrol bombs, kerosine jars, and gasoline explosives had also been prepared. Some were equipped with hot iron rods while others were instructed to carry a bucket of burning coal with them so as to hurl them at the demonic slayer. By nightfall, most of them were prepared and as the lieutenant initiated the mission, a strong current of confidence ran in their hearts and they countered the fear of their soul by chanting the name of The Warrior God. Ultimately, The Detective came to The Professor and said: ‘Sir. Thank you very much for your efforts. If the grace of God be upon us, we might succeed.’ The Professor smiled and said: ‘You will succeed for sure,’ and he proceeded to join him. ‘Wait - what are you doing? You are not thinking of coming are you?’ The professor gave him a stern look and said: ‘Paetar, there are 25 people around us, armed with fire bombs. Do you really think he’s got a chance? Furthermore I don't want to miss the destruction of that abhorrent creature who so demolished Father Anton’s sanity…May his soul be forgiven..I am coming and there’s nothing debatable about it.’ The Detective resigned and looked at the Lieutenant who nodded and instructed them to join the ranks quickly. Unbeknownst to all, The Necromancer had dug up a passage in the cave that opened out there in the forest. It was from this place that he had lurked out in the streets and murdered so many humans. A terror of his slaughtering spirit had disturbed the very environment of that place in the forest and the entrance of his cave was marked by dying leaves and wilted flowers. After capturing The Triplets at late night, he had sneaked back to his home by that route and he intended to murder the children at the midnight of the next day. A spell of sleep he put on their thoughts and gazed on them hungrily as he envisioned their deaths. Then, after depositing them in his old place of confinement, he chose a comfortable place in the mud by the pond and rested himself by going to sleep. The army of town-Police crept towards the town chapel in the evening and The Captain led the troop. He was equipped with a single shot pistol and some ammunition while all the others carried their flame grenades and were armed with blades and swords. The lieutenant managed the rear and even the coal carriers rushed towards the entrance. The scouts surveyed the scene and rushed back quickly to give them the go ahead and everybody prepared themselves for the final phase of the mission. Slowly, one by one, they crept to the basement, from where they marched in a file through the passage and finally came out into the tunnel; there the scouts were already awaiting them. The Captain crept slowly towards the raised mound and spotted The Necromancer. Then he gave the signal and two of his best officers sneaked towards the confinement zone and carried the sleeping children on their backs. Then they started to go back to their zone, but the iron chains shifted the moment those kids were moved and immediately, The Necromancer awakened, shaking furiously to witness so many beings around his place. ‘ATTACK THE FIEND !’ The captain roared. ‘DEATH !’ The group yelled. The monster jumped and lunged, but the captain shot his head with the pistol, sending him crashing down to the ground. The others threw their petrol bombs at the fiend which blasted open upon him and devoured him in a ball of flame. Likewise, the coal pelters hurled small coal missiles at the burning body of the monster and incinerated him. But so monstrous was the spirit of that devil that he arose once more, his flesh burning and smoking, and he plucked out a huge stone from the mud. Then he bashed an officer’s skull with it, blasting the head into bloody bits and pieces and threw the rock towards the group. The stone smashed Detective Paetar in his chest and he went crashing down to the ground and died on the spot.

Yet, the officers continued to pelt fire bombs at him until fire burned his entire body and he screamed in painful terror as his burning flesh seared him from within and tormented his very soul with its flame. They launched their attacks relentlessly, until the entire cave glowed as if a sun had been created within and the monster howled from the center of the ball of fire in which he was burning.

A scream like that, never on the planet had erupted, nor will any other ever appear like it. It petrified the very soul of the lieutenant and most of them fled from the scene upon hearing that scene. Yet, those who stayed witnessed the holy incarceration of the demonic fiend, one that had murdered more than half of their friends; and The Professor was with the spectators.

He gazed on the burning pyre of the demonic monster and even as he witnessed the ashes of the demon’ corpse, he knew that this was not the end and another Necromancer will once again come to life and he too will weave a havoc that is much more worse than this current peril. Yet, as he gazed at the fire, it burned his ominous thoughts and he enjoyed the destruction of that demon with gratitude and satisfaction.

By Kumar Shaurya Singh