Literature

Dark

I was normal, once.

That was before I died. Then came the whole getting revived and resurrected and joined by a what was practically a god, oh and before I learned that all that shit that goes bump in the night, the vampires and werewolves and ghosts and specters, yeah, all that shit is real. All of it, all the things that dozens of books and movies have been made about, and about a few hundred more that humanity collectively pushed from its memory, they were that horrible, the true horrors, I knew all of them, for they all lived in my domain.

But... more on that later. Right now were dealing with a rather wily necromancer, that hadn't listened to the rules. And right now he was backed up against the edge of a roof of an eighty story building, although we knew that a fall would only slow him down. When you think of a necromancer, you think of old men with balding heads and liver spotted skin, in the graveyard at night, wearing black cloaks and cutting open bodies and bathing