Violet Ragnarson
"I hate Zombies"
The oppressive weight of the tomb's atmosphere clung to my skin as I cautiously stepped inside. The caretaker's words still echoed in my mind, reminding me of the long history of neglect shrouding this place. The ancient door creaked open, revealing a chamber untouched by human presence for years.
My client, a young man whose life had been spared by his fortuitous discovery of the attack, had been skeptical of my abilities. They always were, but I knew my craft well enough to silence any doubts. With a touch of the dark magic my older sister had taught me in our childhood, I had healed him, ensuring his survival. Though I frowned upon such practices, sometimes the ends justified the means.
Within the tomb, darkness reigned, broken only by the feeble glow of the moon and the narrow beam of my flashlight. I instructed the caretaker to keep his shotgun at the ready, just in case any malevolent force managed to escape its confines.
The faint sound of shifting movement reached my ears, drawing my attention to the fallen coffins that lined the chamber. It seemed the entombed dead had attempted to claw their way out, their feeble efforts evident in the disarray. And then, a shadow moved, slithering through the darkness. Impatience welled within me, and I knew the time for subtlety had passed.
I gripped the flashlight with my teeth, freeing my hand to retrieve a knife. With a swift, calculated motion, I sliced into my palm, allowing the crimson essence of life to flow freely. The scent of blood would be my lure, drawing these mindless creatures toward me like hungry scavengers to a feast.
In the depths of the tomb, the shuffling footsteps of four zombies resonated, growing louder with each passing moment. Without hesitation, I conjured a beam of radiant light, a manifestation of my healing magic. The intense energy collided with the first zombie, disintegrating it into a cloud of ash. Another met the same fate, its body reduced to particles.
As the swarm closed in on me, I repeated the process, unleashing the healing magic upon them with precision and unwavering resolve. Groans and gurgles filled the air, but my focus remained unbroken. With each surge of radiant energy, another zombie succumbed to the destructive power of healing.
And then, as swiftly as the onslaught began, it ended. I stood amidst the tomb's darkness, surveying the aftermath. Not a single zombie remained in sight. The air grew heavy with silence, broken only by the sound of my own tired breaths.
Exiting the tomb with caution, I raised my hands in a signal to the caretaker, who stood waiting anxiously. His shotgun remained unused, a testament to the effectiveness of my magic. I faced him, and his eyes searched mine for confirmation.
"They're gone?" he asked, a mix of relief and disbelief tingeing his voice.
I nodded, my exhaustion tugging at my eyelids. "Yeah," I replied, my voice weary. He holstered his shotgun, seemingly reassured. "The usual amount," I added, confirming the success of our mission.
A grateful smile crossed his face. "Just send it to my account," I instructed, my mind already yearning for the comfort of my hotel bed. "I appreciate the assist."
His gratitude warmed me, and I nodded once more, stifling a yawn. "What I'm here for. Tell the kid I wish him well, okay?" I requested, knowing the young man would find solace in my words.
"Sure," the caretaker affirmed, his gratitude tangible.
Leaving the cemetery behind, I invoked a protective spell, encasing the desolate place in a shield of mystical energy. Satisfied, I made my way to my car and began the journey back to the hotel. The weight of the night's events settled upon my shoulders, but a glimmer of anticipation remained—a hope that my payment had found its way into my account, waiting for me to discover it in the morning light.
.
