Magic Consultation!

High atop a gentle knoll that overlooked their makeshift encampment, Elliot Igor, the head of the Igor family and erstwhile lord of Eagle Rest Castle, stood shoulder to shoulder with Victor Lowry, the chief wizard and trusted confidant. The midnight sky, ablaze with stars and crowned by a luminous moon, cast a surreal glow over the scene below them.

The encampment itself sprawled across the landscape like a colony of white mushrooms after a spring rain. Tents dotted the verdant meadow, interspersed with parked wooden carriages that threw long shadows under the moonlight. Here and there, bonfires crackled, around which clusters of sleepless team members gathered. The flickering light painted their faces as they exchanged tales of the day's harrowing encounters with a seemingly endless tide of zombies.

Elliot, squinted into the darkness, mentally tallying the carriages. His heart sank as he noted the diminished numbers from their departure from Eagle Rest Castle. The loss signified not just an immediate reduction in safety but a dire shortfall in the supplies needed for establishing a new stronghold once they escaped the infected region.

Pushing aside his mounting concerns for the future, Elliot's gaze drifted to the dense, dark silhouette of a pine forest at the camp's perimeter. Occasionally, the somber quiet was broken by the startled flapping of birds, disturbed by some unseen threat, adding an eerie note to the night's chorus.

"That, my lord, this sole forest within this plagued land, yet it remains unharmed by the undead," Master Lowry remarked, noticing where Elliot's attention had fallen. His voice took on the tone of a guide perhaps too eager to distract from grim realities. "The undead abhor the vibrant essence of life that trees exude, thus they shy away from this place, reason enough for our camp's location here."

The concept struck Elliot as oddly familiar, yet his thoughts were quickly pulled back to the precariousness of their situation. Despite the calm within the camp, a mere few miles beyond lay zones swarming with voracious zombies.

This fragile bubble of safety, a tranquil eye in the storm of chaos, prompted Elliot to broach a matter that had been gnawing at him. He looked up at the moon, its brilliance sharpening his resolve, and turned to Master Lowry. "Master Lowry," he began, his voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of seriousness, "I must ask you a serious question."

Master Lowry, sensing the gravity in his lord's tone, braced himself and nodded. "Of course, my Lord. What weighs on your mind?"

After a moment's hesitation, in which he seemed to gather his courage, Elliot asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and irritation, "Why, amidst such dire circumstances, do I find you seeking solace in the pages of... erotic literature at this late hour?"

Caught off-guard, Master Lowry looked as though he'd been physically struck, his expression a mix of embarrassment and panic. "It's not what you think, it's an erotic novel, not mere pornography…"

"Is there truly a distinction?" Elliot challenged, his voice laced with scorn.

Master Lowry opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of his shame overcame him, and he bowed his head, murmuring, "The night stretches long and it can fet lonely sometimes …"

"Our convoy was just besieged by a zombie horde today!" Elliot's voice rose with frustration. "We've suffered great losses with our lives, guards, supplies. We are trapped in the heart of danger, and here you are, distracted by trivial fantasies?"

The night air hung heavy between them, charged with the tension of their precarious survival and the unspoken fears of what tomorrow might bring.

Master Lowry's hands twitched and wrung together as if he were a child caught in the act of some mischief. His face bore an awkward, sheepish grin.

"Anyway..." Elliot inhaled sharply, battling the urge to throttle the bumbling old man before him. He sneered, "I've sought you out because there's a crucial matter regarding magic I need to discuss."

Master Lowry, his eyes wide, slapped his chest so hard it echoed in the quiet room, as though he'd been granted a reprieve. "Speak, and I shall enlighten you as best I can!"

Elliot paused, choosing his words with care. "Are you familiar with... forbidden magic?"

The color drained from Master Lowry's face at the mention, his hands fluttering in dismay. "My Lord, please!" he gasped, his voice a panicked whisper. "I assure you, I've steered clear of such dark arts for many years! Don't hold this against me, I'm innocent!"

Elliot frowned, puzzled by the old wizard's sudden distress. 'Why does he act so guilty when I've barely spoken?'

"Enough of this dithering," he snapped, cutting off Lowry's frantic justifications. His glare pinned the old man like a butterfly to a board. "Tell me, as a practitioner of the magical arts, what do you know of forbidden magic?"

Master Lowry cast a nervous glance around the dimly lit room before leaning closer, his voice a conspiratorial murmur. "Well, I might know a thing or two..."

"And what of necromancy? Specifically, the resurrection spell?" Elliot's arms were crossed, his expression unreadable as he studied the nervous man beside him.

Master Lowry scratched his head, looking bewildered for a moment before his eyes narrowed in recognition. "The resurrection spell? You mean the one that's listed as the third of the 'Ten Forbidden Spells' by the Magic Association?"

Elliot sensed the danger in the name alone, but he nodded grimly. "Yes, the very same spell that can animate the dead, turning them into mindless zombies, is this what you mean?"

Suddenly, Master Lowry's hand shot out, clamping over Elliot's mouth with surprising speed. "Master Elliot! For the love of the magic, do not speak so openly of forbidden spells!" he hissed urgently. "To even utter such things is to risk being burnt at the stake. Our oaths to the Magic Association forbid such discussions!"

Elliot shrugged off Lowry's trembling hand with a scowl. "I'm not even a licensed mage yet, so their rules don't bind me!"

Master Lowry looked utterly stricken, his expression one of profound grievance. He seemed to implore silently, 'Lord, you may not be bound by the Academy's regulations, but I, Victor Lowry, remain a certified magician. Please, do not drag me into your reckless inquires...*

"Master Lowry, there's one crucial thing I need to understand," Elliot murmured, tugging gently at Master Lowry's sleeve to draw him closer. In a hushed tone, he inquired, "Is it conceivable for a zombie resurrected by the resurrection spell to retain any memories, thoughts, or emotions it had before death?"

Master Lowry blinked, his expression one of bewildered condescension. "My lord, as you already noted, what is resurrected is a 'zombie'! A zombie, do you grasp the concept?"

Elliot almost quipped about the common lore that zombies were mere garden invaders and brain-eaters, but he restrained himself, maintaining the composure befitting a time traveler.

"Zombies lack their own consciousness," Master Lowry stressed emphatically, his fingers punctuating each word. "Consider the undead we witnessed in today's horde. Those resurrected by the spell should be no different, mindless beings, though they obey the necromancer's commands."

Elliot mulled over this, then pressed further, "But then, how would you explain what we're seeing here?"

"What phenomenon might that be?" Master Lowry started to ask, but Elliot was already pointing towards a figure in the dim twilight.

Turning to follow his lord's gesture, Master Lowry's gaze fell upon Alice Comstock, who stood smiling at the base of the hill. "Good evening, Master Lowry," she greeted, her voice calm and even.

Master Lowry's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening comically. Just that day, he had seen Alice fatally wounded by a zombie, her throat savagely torn. He himself had cast a spell to retrieve her body from the melee. How could she be standing there, so composed?

"What on earth...?" he gasped, bewildered.

"Master Lowry," Elliot prodded him lightly, his voice flat, "I performed the resurrection spell to Alice's body, and it appears to have had some unusual effects. As you can observe, she hardly resembles the mindless drones you described."

Master Lowry's throat worked soundlessly for a moment, producing a noise akin to a strangled croak as he stared at Elliot, who, at that moment, appeared far more zombie-like than the woman in question.

"What is your assessment?" Elliot asked earnestly.

For a long pause, the aged magician could only gaze skyward, where the stars twinkled indifferently. A tear traced a path down his wrinkled cheek. "I believe," he finally uttered, his voice thick with emotion, "that my evening's quest for forbidden tomes might have led me astray."