I had the day off, so I picked up an old book. The writings were rough, but it all had the studies from Maxwell.
In my room I sat in the darkness and became one with what I loved. In my hand was my diary, my Book of the Dead, my Necronomicon. I looked through all the symbols that I wrote. What they and how to use them. And also, how to use my abilities that no other dark vessel had.
I closed my eyes, falling back to that time.
"Feodora…"
A cold yet familiar voice caused me to open my eyes. I was back in the forest from my past. The man who towered over me was none other than Maxwell. I could see those piercing blue eyes through his black mask as he gazed down at me.
"Maxwell?"
I questioned.
"Do as I order you to."
I stared down to see a young girl. She was dead, likely killed by the beast out here. Occasionally, we would discover someone who got lost deep out here and got killed by a beast.
Sometimes, the beast would kill them and drag their bodies far into the forest. These were the people I met over my long years within the forest. I've only had conversations with Maxwell and corpses.
"What was I doing, Maxwell?"
I asked.
I noticed my voice was higher, and my body was more petite. I was a teenager, and Maxwell was teaching me how to live. I was in that dirty white shirt that I knitted over the years. And the green cargo pants that I wore were something I found in a dead man's belongings. He was ripped apart by beasts, but his clothing was brand new, so I took them.
It was a warm day, and this body was decomposing fast. Flies hovered around it, but I was used to seeing dead people by this point in my life. I probably saw more dead people than living ones at this age.
"I need to know if you've truly learned [N]ecromancy, Feodora."
Maxwell said as he turned back to the corpse.
"Okay, Maxwell."
The deceased girl looked to be younger than me. There was a chance that she might have been in an orphanage just like I was, and she somehow found her way into the forest where the beast got her. Her stomach was ripped open by claws, and her leg was barely dangling from her body.
The fear in her eyes was evidence that she died afraid. As I looked at her more, I noticed her hair was bleach blonde, almost white. Her eyes were a bright blue that looked like the lake on a sunny day. This girl was beautiful in life, and it was a tragedy to see her in death.
"Feodora, when people are alive that is when they are most valued. Life is precious, and you have a kind heart."
Maxwell spoke as he held my shoulder.
"But when they are dead you shouldn't see them as a person anymore. We are dark vessels that take dominion over the dead. That beautiful child who lost her life too soon is nothing but a weapon for you."
"Yes, Maxwell."
I made a symbol that was associated with [N]ecromancy. I took out my katana and held it close to my arm. In a swift motion, I cut myself, causing the blood on my arm to rain down on the beautiful girl's body.
I dipped two fingers into the wound and drew a symbol on her forehead. The sign was a cross with four dashes around it. I channeled darkness into the mark, and the girl's eyes began to blink as she came alive. Rigidly, her body started to pulsate.
This girl wasn't the first corpse I brought back to life, but her beauty burned into my memory.
"You feel that connection in your fingers, don't you Feodora?"
It was like holding a cross brace for a doll to control. As I moved my fingers, her body would follow suit. I was in control of her in her death.
"As I told you before this art is illegal, and people would kill you if you got caught using the dead for your own goals. But when you need to use it to live."
My mentor sternly commanded.
"Yes, Maxwell."
Slowly, he nodded his head.
"Good, now cut its strings, Feodora."
Maxwell ordered.
I motioned my hands like playing the harp in the air. My doll stopped and fell to the ground. Thanks to the excess spectrum released from its body, her corpse broke apart even more. Her leg snapped off her body, and her head twisted unrealistically.
"What does the symbol mean, Maxwell?"
I asked.
I wrote it but it was all still foreign to me. The cross on her forehead burned into my memory. I knew what it could do, but I didn't know its meaning.
"You don't need to know that, Feodora. All you need to know is that this symbol is for necromancy."
I shook my head.
"I don't get that logic! You've taught me so many symbols, Maxwell. I see them in my night terrors, but these symbols don't mean anything to me!"
Frustrated, I turned to the side.
"How am I supposed to truly understand what I'm doing without knowing why I'm doing it?"
I confronted him.
He groaned and put his cold hands on my shoulders.
"It's because I know best, Feodora. You shouldn't go looking for those kinds of answers."
"Maxwell, I don't think that's right."
My ice-cold mentor froze in place. I was a teenager and looking back I could see it being my rebellious phase.
"What don't you think is right, Feodora?"
He stood tall but I was used to his oppression over me.
"That I'm learning to do horrible things but not fully understanding the gravity of them."
I stated.
I thought about a history book I read regarding a war. The soldiers were told to destroy a village. And so, they did just what they were ordered too. It turned out that village didn't have any enemy forces in it. Hundreds of people died because of orders unquestioned.
I held my chest.
"Maxwell, if I'm going to learn how to bring bodies back to life. Manipulate peoples souls and force them to do my bidding and the like, I think it's only right I know how deep it goes."
Maxwell sighed coldly.
"Feodora, you don't just understand the symbols I show you-"
He paused.
"You're different than any other dark vessel I've known."
"How so?"
"You don't just learn the symbol but absorb them and channel them differently."
Maxwell looked away.
"If I teach you all the knowledge you need in order to master them, how do I know you won't become a monster?"
I clenched my fist.
"Because of you, Maxwell."
I faced my mentor.
"You saved me when I was a kid. I know how it feels for my life to be put into another hand."
I looked back at the corpse, awaiting my orders.
"I know what it feels like to be her. Powerless, broken and destroyed. And I will never abuse someone like I was in that orphanage."
Tears came down my cheeks as I selfishly plead to Maxwell.
"I want to be strong. I never want to be weak again. So, please, don't cripple me like this! Please, Maxwell!"
Maxwell gazed back at the corpse awaiting orders. A cold breath came from his mask in the warm summer afternoon.
"Fine, Feodora. From this day forth, you will master each symbol of the dark arts. You will hone them, have them etched in your heart and mind."
He put his icy hands on my shoulder.
"And one day, if you ever face another dark vessel, they will know how different you are and tremble in fear."
That day Maxwell didn't let me take a break. We practiced [N]ecromancy until my arm gave out due to all the blood I lost. When the sun was setting a few weeks later, my mentor turned back to the corpse of the girl. Her body was sprawled out and facing the trees that towered over her.
"She's tired, Maxwell."
My arm was full of cuts but my ability to use the young girl behind me was unmatched. I felt as though I understood the magic spells. But there would be a long road ahead.
But Maxwell wasn't holding back any longer. The dark arts were slowly being etched into my mind and heart. I would master each and every one of them eventually.
"I know you want to bury her. Go ahead Feodora, I won't stop you."
With that, my mentor went away, deeper into the forest.
"I'll lay you to rest."
I leaned over this unknown girl's body. I could bring her back to "life" by using necromancy, but I felt like she deserved to sleep after the tragedy that she suffered. She had enough, it was time to rest.
"Lila, you always looked like a Lila to me."
After a long day of digging a proper grave, I set her corpse in the dirt. Tenderly, I kissed her forehead.
"Thank you, Lila for giving me the strength to face Maxwell."
Would it be strange to say Lila was the first person I kissed? Well, she was. That girl gave me the courage to learn the dark arts. And that is why I would never forget her.
It's hard to forget your first kiss.
The memory faded away as I recalled the name of that precious doll that day. Out of all the "dolls" I would come across through those years, Lila stuck with me. She showed me that death could come to anyone at any time, no matter the age.
Thanks to Lila, my will to live grew stronger that day.
When I finished burying Lila, I put a flower on her grave.
"Thanks for being my first friend even if it was only for a few weeks."
I opened my eyes, revealing the isolated darkness.
"I love the darkness."
I whispered.
If I have to face the dark vessel from before again, I told myself that I will do as Maxwell told me.
I will make sure they tremble in fear of what I can do.