Fortune in Disastrous Misfortune

Crystal was enjoying her morning. She was just a human kid, at the age of 12. Her village considered people mature by 15, but marriage was still banned until 18 by the kingdom's decree, although nobles often found a way around that, so she wasn't interested in anything romantic. She had medium-length brown hair and purple eyes that shone line amethyst, hence her name. She also had surprisingly pale skin for a tomboy and stood at a fairly standard height. After having her small breakfast consisting of a single roll and a glass of water, she went to explore her village. The people were very familiar with her since everyone knew everyone, and she cheerfully greeted them all. The merchant, the butcher, the baker, and even the hunters.

She set off for her real goal; the local witch's hut. Crystal had been taking lessons from Renna, the witch in question, but she still had yet to cast any magic. Though, that was expected of a student.

When she entered Renna's dark hut, she was greeted with the strong scent of herbs and minerals. Renna specialized in potions and remedies but knew enough about magic to teach Crystal the basics.

"Why, good morning Crystal!"

Renna emerged from a doorway and greeted Crystal. Renna stood at a fairly average height of 5' 5", had dirty blonde hair, and a generally lax look on her face. She certainly didn't look the part of a witch.

"Good morning, Renna! I'm ready to learn!" Crystal said.

Renna smiled and beckoned her into the basement. It was a fairly musty place, but it also had the calming scent of herbs that was always present in the house. There, Renna kept many books on magic. There was one particular book, with a black leather cover, that always tugged Crystal's attention, but Renna had scolded her pretty harshly the last time she tried to grab it, so she left it alone. Crystal couldn't pry her eyes from it, however.

Renna's lesson started. It was just a lesson on what mana is and how people use it. Mana is a latent form of energy that lingers in the air and within people, and magic is the act of channeling that mana and turning it into arcane phenomena. There are several different types of mana, and location can change what mana is present. Fire magic would be stronger on a volcano or in a desert than it would be on a ship in the ocean or a tundra, for example. People possess mana, which has attributes as well, and that is how affinities are formed.

Crystal took every last detail to heart. She had never been to a proper school, but she figured that if learning magic was this fun, then school must be amazing. Sadly, her family couldn't afford it.

Afterward, Crystal had a bunch of free time. She sat in front of her house, playing in the dirt, and generally daydreaming about being a great mage. It was her dream to become powerful, like the people you read about, slaying dragons and evil kings. Then, a voice yelled out to her.

"Crystal, dear, dinner's ready!"

It was her mom. Crystal Stren was a part of a loving family, consisting of two brothers and both of her parents. With two brothers, she was a bit of a tomboy, which was part of why she decided to start playing in the damp dirt.

"Coming, Mom!" Crystal yelled back.

She burst through the door with her usual bravado. Inside the rickety and wooden shack, the scent of charcoal and meat filled her nose. She saw that her family was waiting for her at the dinner table, food in front of them. Her brothers were already digging in. After being scolded for entering covered in dirt, and promptly washing up, she sat down to eat her beef stew. She wasn't sure what the occasion was, but having a real meal was a nice change.

Her father, Rennard, was a rugged lumberjack, and a former explorer. He was tall and had a distinct scar on his right eye, had short brown hair, and was very muscular. He was kind in his way, but he struggled to show his emotions on his face. The tough but soft kind of guy.

Her mother, Bea, was a housewife at heart, although she was also a retired mercenary. She was a fairly average height with long, blonde hair. She often got confused with Renna. She gave up her life of violence to settle down with Rennard and hasn't looked back.

Her older brother, Novan, definitely had taken after his parents. He looked just like a younger version of Rennard. He was as rugged yet caring as his father but was also bound to be a fighter like his mother had been.

Her younger brother, Bradvar, was the opposite, having short blonde hair and a more thin figure. He was a bookworm, and was a faster learner than anyone else at the house; though, with them being a village family, that wasn't saying much. He, Novan, and Crystal had taken lessons from a traveling scholar on reading, and he had used them to their fullest.

Crystal was above average athletically, and she was pretty smart, but not much beyond that. The only thing she had going for her was her boundless ambition. Aside from that, she was pretty average, outside of the magic lessons Renna had given her.

The Strens were poor, but they were happy. After dinner, the family went to bed. Crystal slept soundly, and happily. However, when she woke up, it was the middle of the day. The village was dead silent. She had no clue what was going on, but she knew that something was amiss.

Leaving her house, she saw that everyone was gone. Someone had looted all the houses of her already poor village, set some on fire, and killed most of the people. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke, and the only sound was the soft crackling of fire. Even the insects were silent. The dirt roads were covered in the tracks of horses, which her village didn't have. Crystal was the sole survivor.

She sat there in a daze, in a pool of her people's viscera. What had happened? How could she have slept through this? Where was her family? She saw the corpses of her friends, and panic filled her head. But then, she remembered something Renna had mentioned, a magic that could let dead people come back. Luckily for her, Renna was a collector of all kinds of magic grimoires in that basement of hers.

Crystal ran as fast as she could to her hut, but even it was raided. Renna was nowhere to be seen, but that might've been good.

Crystal felt a natural pull to the basement. A faint, cold sensation in her chest beckoned her to it. She didn't know what was going on, but she figured that she had no options. The basement was only illuminated by a single pale blue flame that floated in the air, and it smelled like herbs as usual. There were various books and ingredients, most of which Crystal didn't recognize. Crystal started searching, to see what had pulled her down here.

As she looked, her eyes landed on that black leather book that had always caught her attention. It was old, untouched, and was labeled "A Heretic's Guide to Resuscitation." Something deep within her told her to read it, and with no other choice, she did. The papyrus it was written on was old and felt like it could crumble at any moment. It even smelled old. She had a basic understanding of reading and understood magic somewhat from Renna's lessons, but the complex language in the book was hard to wrap her head around. But she managed. This was it, a book on Necromancy, the art of manipulating flesh and souls.

She raced back to the village, book in hand, and found her friends. They had bled out, having had their chests cut open. They were cold and stiff, sitting in a puddle of blood. She was terrified and on the verge of puking, but she had to at least try something. She recited the incantation in the book, and the air was filled with something cold. Then, her friends twitched. They stood up.

Crystal, blind to the reality of what she had done, raised as many of her friends as she could find from the dead. She had heard that magic was tiring, but she was still full of energy. After calming down, and raising about 10 of her friends, she looked at them.

"Guys, are you ok?"

…

…

No response. They were lifeless husks, with no will of their own. Crystal scrambled to look at the book, wondering what had gone wrong, but she couldn't find it. That was the only dead-raising spell it offered.

Crystal dropped to her knees and, now that the adrenaline had worn off, wept. She wept harder than she ever had in her life, and fell asleep surrounded by the empty shells of those she once loved, with the scent of blood and smoke filling her nose.

When she awoke at noon, the nightmare hadn't passed. The dead she had raised were still standing, and they were still empty. Crystal felt ill from the scent of not only blood, but now rot too, but then a thought occurred to her.

With a shaky voice, she requested one of her former friends.

"P-please search the village for my family."

The zombie obliged and searched. After realizing it worked, she asked the others to search. She hadn't seen her brothers or parents anywhere, so she was hoping that they managed to escape and hide.

Sometime later, the zombies returned and presented nothing. Her family wasn't in the village.

Crystal, purpose regained, swore an oath to herself.

"Take care of each other, guys. I-I'm coming!"

With that, she set off on her journey. There wasn't anything to pack, as almost everything had been taken, but at least she had 12 people at her beck and call.

After that, 3 years passed in the blink of an eye.

Crystal had been alone and searching for 3 arduous years. Though her general proficiency with her undead had risen, she hadn't learned much about Necromancy in that time; she had been too busy trying to even survive. Plus, Necromancy was forbidden. There weren't many places to learn it, and she's been chased out of more than a few villages and cities for even asking about it. On top of all that, the trauma from that day combined with her near-total isolation had started to take a toll on her mental state. Nonetheless, she was still standing.

Her undead entourage had been reduced to 3, and none of them were from her home village. She had to sacrifice them to escape the hungry jaws of a Basilisk. But, she had raised the bodies of 3 mercenaries who were felled trying to hunt said Basilisk, so it was fine.

To observers, it looked like a girl being escorted by three armored men. Not that there were any observers in the forest she was in, though. She was in a forbidden forest searching for a Necromancer who supposedly lived deep in it. The forest was always dim at the brightest and held some nasty monsters, so it was perfect for heretical mages to hide.

Crystal wanted to learn more. Why had she picked up on Necromancy so easily? What was it that pulled her towards that beginner's guide? She still had that book, but she had read it so many times it was just unhelpful. The only spell she knew was Raise Dead, but the book also detailed how to use Soul Drain, as well as a basic overview of how Necromancy works and the details of what a soul is. It was complicated stuff, which is why the book only had two spells, but Crystal had committed it all to memory. But, for her, the biggest mystery was just what the hell happened to her village. Furthermore, why hadn't she woken up?

Eventually, her thoughts were interrupted as she came across an eerie, wooden shack, with blocked-off windows and a generally ruined look.

She approached the shack. With a gaggle of undead following her, she was fairly confident that she'd be recognized as a fellow Necromancer. Knocking on the door three times, she waited. A faint voice came out.

"What is it?" he asked.

Crystal was a little shocked that someone lived in this place.

"I'm a Necromancer, and I'm looking to learn," Crystal said. She didn't see any point in hiding anything.

The door creaked open. The man behind it looked pale, and like he hadn't gotten sleep in three days.

He had short black hair and stood at 6' 3", which towered over the now 5' 7" Crystal. The man looked at the undead following her, and his eyes widened in realization.

The man hurried her inside and introduced himself. His name was Damien, and he had been studying Necromancy for 10 years. Crystal introduced herself and said that she'd known about it for 3 years but could only cast Raise Dead and had half-understood Soul Drain. Damien was impressed that she could learn anything with only the help of a single book for novices.

"Well, I'll teach you, but it'll come at a price," Damien said. "One that we'll discuss once your training is complete."

"...Fine," Crystal said. The vagueness made her wary, but she didn't have a choice. "How long will this all last?"

"Three years," Damien said.

Crystal was getting sick of three-year-long intervals and thought she might be developing a fear of the number 3. Although, at that point, she'd be recognized as an adult across the kingdom and, as far as she was aware, the world, so it might be a good idea to put travel on hold until then anyway. Traveling as a minor was tough.

And so, her training began. Well, it was mostly studying, but it was still training. Her thorough study of A Heretic's Guide to Resuscitation combined with Renna's lessons had come to be useful, as the first step to mastering Necromancy was understanding what a soul was and how Necromancy, and magic in general, worked. The cliff notes version is that a soul is just a blank slate that the Goddess of Rebirth writes a personality on. When a person dies, their soul goes to the afterlife and slowly decays, until all traces of humanity and personality are gone, leaving yet another blank slate. Necromancers imitate this process, but creating a truly sentient undead was far above Crystal's ability, and even Damien barely understood it.

"Necromancy is ultimately an arcane magic if not a dark one," Damien said. "Our power comes from knowledge, not hard work. Unlike divine magic or martial techniques, blood and sweat aren't going to get you much here."

Crystal nodded. She was in for 3 years of morbid schoolwork then? Well, she'd never been to school, so she wasn't sure if that comparison made sense.

"But I must say, Crystal, your zombies are more mindless than any I've ever seen," Damien said.

"Is that bad?" Crystal asked.

"No," Damien said, "it's just unusual. Usually, they have some response to stimuli, but, well…"

Damien then poked one of Crystal's zombies. Nothing, Then he slapped it. Nothing. He then shrugged and continued the lesson.

Again, three years had passed fairly fast. Crystal had learned not only Soul Drain but also Induce Fear and Mass Raise Dead. That was considered frighteningly fast. Damien was a good person who cared for Crystal, fed her, gave her a bed, and never overstepped his boundaries. Crystal had been averse to staying with a strange man, but he was more in love with his studies than anyone anyways.

"Congratulations, Crystal. As for your gift…"

Damien produced a black robe from behind him.

"It's enchanted with protections, and boosts necromancy," he said.

Crystal took the robe in her hands. Damien had given her basic clothing, including the white dress she was quite fond of and currently wearing, but this was the first unique piece of clothing he'd given her- hell, the first unique clothing she'd ever owned.

"Now then, Crystal, remember our deal?" Damien asked.

"Yes, the price," Crystal said, donning the robe. "What was it you wanted?"

Damien smiled a grim smile.

"Crystal, your soul is special. It's etched with the markings of a Necromancer, something that most of us spend our entire lives trying to achieve. It requires a very special ritual to make. However, even if the person with a Necromancer's soul dies, no matter what, the etchings never leave, so people can be born with them. Thus, those souls are sold for a high price, and even infants with them are sold off as slaves," Damien said.

The more Damien spoke, the more worried Crystal appeared.

"Damien, you don't mean-"

Crystal was interrupted by Damien thrusting his hand towards Crystal and grabbing her.

"Yes, Crystal. Your price will be your soul. Don't worry, I'll raise you as a beautiful undead. That robe is too precious to give away, after all"

Crystal showed mild panic on her face. Suddenly, Damien felt a stabbing pain in his back. Then two more. He looked down to see three rusted swords through his back, then looked up to see Crystal's face was devoid of emotions.

"...I thought you could be better than that," Crystal said. "I really, honestly thought I had found someone to replace my family."

Damien fell to the ground. Fully killing a Necromancer as experienced as him was tough, but thankfully he was still alive. Crystal leaned into Damien's ear as he groaned in pain.

"Now, suffer," she said, "and feel the pain I feel doing this to you."

Damien panicked and tried to crawl away as Crystal cast Soul Drain. Crystal wasn't entirely sure why Damien gave her the robe if he was just going to kill her. A fake out, perhaps? Damien's soul was absorbed into Crystal's. His body fell limp, and the three mercenaries that Damien had told Crystal to dispose of stood by. She couldn't bear to get rid of them, not when she figured Damien might try to kill her.

She stood up, dusted herself off, and got to work. She raised some corpses that had been in the house, raided the place, and left. She threw Damien's body into the woods since she couldn't raise it as a zombie. Experienced Necromancers were immune to Raise Dead spells. Now that she had raided the place, she had many years worth of books to study, some rare materials that she would surely find useful, and a much more complete knowledge of Necromancy as a whole. As she left, Crystal turned to Damien's body with tired eyes.

"...Goodbye, Damien," she said. "Thank you for all you did for me."

The death and disappearance of everyone she had ever known six years ago was truly unfortunate and still haunted her. But, at least now, she was taking hold of her life and becoming independent and mature, even somewhat strong.

And so, the now 18 and deeply depressed Crystal departed once more to find her family, and to find a purpose beyond that.