As she approached the castle, she regretted not having asked the necromancer for a bag. 'If only I had a bag,' she thought, 'I could have brought more fruit and wouldn't have to struggle to keep any from falling.'
The castle exterior still appeared abandoned and overgrown by the forest, a stark contrast to the transformed interior. As she stepped inside, she made her way directly to the throne room. Despite not being entirely familiar with the castle, she instinctively knew the paths to specific points, and the route to the throne room was one of them. 'Why do these halls feel so familiar?' she wondered, the feeling of déjà vu lingering in her mind.
Passing the staircase, she noticed it had changed dramatically. The stairs were now made of a resplendent white stone, without a single crack or hole, as if sculpted from a giant marble block. The railings were adorned with gold details and precious stones placed meticulously. 'This must have taken ages to craft,' she mused, feeling a mix of awe and curiosity. Despite her urge to explore the rest of the castle, she continued to the throne room to deliver the fruits to the necromancer. The skeletons, dragging the lioness carcasses with their remaining arm, followed her.
The doors to the throne room had also been renovated, now appearing as dark metal with gray details and dark-colored jewels in specific places. Pushing open the heavy doors, Aurora found the necromancer's throne empty. She stood, momentarily stunned by the abysmal decor crafted by the necromancer. Suppressing her curiosity, she scanned the room for him. 'Where could he be?' she thought, stepping slowly into the room, her eyes darting to each shadowed corner.
As she ventured further inside, her thoughts raced. 'Is this what the necromancer carries in his heart? Hell itself?' The castle had a somber decoration throughout, but the throne room was particularly detailed, crafted with much more intricacy. It was almost like a work of art—a dark masterpiece carrying the artist's tormented emotions.
Her train of thought was shattered by a deep, cold voice that seemed to resonate from the very walls. "I see that this time you fulfilled your task as ordered."
Aurora jumped, dropping all the fruits she had painstakingly collected. "I-I'm sorry!" she stammered, quickly kneeling to gather the scattered fruits. Her heart pounded as she stole a glance at the necromancer's expression, expecting anger or disdain. To her surprise, he didn't seem to care about the mishap. 'He doesn't mind?' she thought, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.
The necromancer's attention was fixed on the skeletons, positioned about five meters behind her. Their hollow eyes seemed to stare back at him, awaiting orders. Aurora, having collected all the fruits, stood before the necromancer. She hesitated, then began to bow, fearing that the fruits might fall again. 'I must show respect,' she thought, her muscles tense with anxiety. But as she started to bend, the necromancer's voice interrupted her.
"You need not bow," he said, his tone unexpectedly soft.
Aurora straightened, her surprise evident. 'I thought he would demand constant subservience,' she wondered, her heart still racing. The necromancer then turned his gaze to the skeletons. "Tell me," he began, his eyes narrowing, "did you encounter a swordsman? The cut on the skeleton's arm is exceptionally clean."
Aurora's heart skipped a beat. 'Should I mention Alan?' she panicked, recalling Alan's vehement hatred for necromancy. The fear of what the necromancer might do to him gripped her. As she contemplated lying, the circle in the middle of her chest began to glow, and a searing pain surged through her. She gasped, the agony overwhelming her senses. But moments later, the light faded, and the necromancer spoke again, his words dismissive yet pointed.
"You need not answer," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "The light from your chest tells me all I need to know."
Aurora stood there, trembling. 'He knows,' she realized, her mind swirling with fear and confusion. The necromancer turned away, dismissing the skeletons with a wave of his hand. They clattered out of the room, leaving Aurora alone with him.
"Remember, Aurora," the necromancer said, his voice low and menacing, "there are consequences for deceit. But you have done well today."
Aurora nodded, clutching the fruits tightly. 'What does he want from me?' she wondered, the weight of the necromancer's gaze pressing down on her. 'And how much longer can I endure this?'
The necromancer began to walk towards the exit of the throne room. "What do you say to a walk through the palace, Aurora?" His tone, though framed as a question, was unmistakably commanding.
Aurora followed silently, two paces behind. As they exited the throne room and the heavy doors closed behind them, the necromancer spoke again. "Do you remember anything of this palace from before I resurrected you?"
His words struck her like a bolt of lightning, answering the unspoken questions that had haunted her. 'So I was resurrected...' she thought, a chill running down her spine. Pushing aside the tumultuous thoughts, she answered respectfully, "No, I don't remember."
The necromancer continued walking, his steps echoing through the grand, empty halls. "And during the night, did you recall anything of your past life?"
Aurora's heart sank. She had hoped for some glimmer of her former existence but found only darkness. "No," she replied, her voice tinged with melancholy.
They reached a pair of broken dragon statues, the only part of the castle that had not been restored. The sight of them stirred a sense of familiarity within Aurora, something ancient and profound. The necromancer paused, staring at the ruins with an inexplicable nostalgia in his eyes.
"This palace," he began, his voice softer, almost wistful, "was once the royal palace of the ancient kingdom of Draconium. A thousand years ago, it was the most powerful realm on the continent. Its army was unbeatable, even if all the other kingdoms united against it. The nobility of this kingdom were humans with the bloodlines of various dragons."
Aurora listened intently, her mind absorbing every word. The necromancer's voice grew darker, more intense, as if he was reliving the memories.
He continued, his eyes burning with a cold fire. "The banners of the dragon lords flying high, the sound of their wings as they soared above the palace. The city was alive with magic, the air thick with the power of their ancestors. The royal family, with the blood of the King of Dragons flowing through their veins, ruled with an iron fist. No enemy dared to challenge, no force could withstand their might."
Aurora felt a shiver run down her spine. The necromancer's words painted a vivid picture, bringing the ancient kingdom to life before her eyes.
"But then," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "came the invasion from the continent of beasts. The dragons of that land sought to use Draconium's rulers as their pawns, and for a time, they succeeded. The nobility, bound by their dragon blood, became instruments of their will. Yet, when those dragons were finally vanquished, the spell was broken. Draconium was free, but their enemies closed in."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the shattered statues. "Draconium was besieged on all sides. The beasts of the Beast Continent invaded Draconium's lands, and the other kingdoms saw their chance to strike. In a weakened state, they could not hold them back. The royal family, once the pride of Draconium, was hunted down and slaughtered. The intense magic of that war left this area uninhabitable for ordinary humans."
He finished his words "The once-great kingdom was reduced to ruins, its people massacred, its legacy all but forgotten."
Aurora's heart ached at the necromancer's words. 'A kingdom fallen, its people betrayed and destroyed,' she thought, her mind reeling with the weight of his story.
The necromancer seemed lost in his memories, allowing Aurora time to process the information. As she reflected on his story, a thin thread of memory began to weave its way through her mind. She closed her eyes, focusing on the elusive fragment.