The morning felt heavier than usual. Not just because my spatial ring—now laden with every component for the Lich ritual—pulled at my consciousness, reminding of the monuntal task ahead. No, the real weight sat coiled in my chest, a knot of tension that refused to unravel. Today, I would attempt sothing colossal, sothing that even Ascendant-rank necromancers would hesitate to try. And as prepared as I was, as ticulously as I'd planned, the enormity of my ambition pressed down on like an immovable stone.
I realized, with a pang of uncertainty, that I needed more than just confidence or resolve before I entered Professor Gravemore's lab. I needed the voices of the people who mattered most, the voices that could steady my feet on this precarious path.
My first stop was the Academy gardens, a sanctuary of winding paths, flowers nurtured under carefully tuned mana-lamps, and an air of quiet serenity. Rachel often spent her evenings here alone, reading or daydreaming beneath the sprawling magnolia tree that dominated one corner of the garden. The pale petals drifted lazily on the breeze, creating the impression of snow in mid-spring.
I found her seated on a small wooden bench, a worn book in one hand and a delicate cup of tea in the other. The soft rustle of leaves provided a gentle background lullaby. As I approached, she glanced up, her auburn hair catching the sunlight.
"Hey, Arthur," she greeted, a warm smile lighting her features. "You look like you've got sothing serious on your mind."
I sat beside her, nerves dancing at the edge of my awareness. "I wanted to talk to you about… today," I began, voice subdued.
She set her tea aside, closing her book with a deliberate movent. "Today?" There was a note of concern in her tone, but it was laced with empathy, with that unwavering warmth I'd co to depend on.
I fiddled with my sleeve, inhaling slowly. "I'm making the Lich, Rach."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, though no trace of fear erged. Instead, she simply placed her hand over mine, her eyes steady. "Arthur, you've spent months preparing for this," she said gently. "You're ready. You're more than ready."
I swallowed hard, the tension in my chest slightly easing. "But what if I'm not? What if sothing goes wrong? I can't… I don't want to fail."
Her grip tightened, and her gaze locked onto mine. "Then you try again," she said, as though it were the simplest truth in the world. "Because that's who you are. You don't stop, you don't give up—and it's one of many reasons you're precious to ."
I blinked, a spark of gratitude igniting deep within. Sohow, hearing Rachel articulate that unwavering confidence in lifted my spirits. "Thanks," I murmured. "It's good to hear you say that."
Next on my list was Cecilia. I found her in one of the training halls, the faint hum of mana-laced contraptions underscoring her practice sessions. Her crimson hair was tied back, the ends brushing the collar of her Academy jacket, and a thin film of sweat glistened on her brow. Each motion she made crackled with a raw edge of power, her practiced spells weaving arcs of energy through the air.
She caught sight of lingering by the entrance. Her eyebrows lifted. "You look like you're about to do sothing incredibly stupid," she remarked dryly, never one to mince words.
I exhaled, letting out a half-laugh. "I'm making the Lich today."
An unspoken tension settled in the hall, and for a mont, she seed torn between scolding or shaking her head in exasperation. Then she let out a rough sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Of course you are. Because why wouldn't Arthur Nightingale tackle sothing insane?" she said, voice steeped in a blend of annoyance and grudging respect.
"I just…" I hesitated, rembering how harsh she could be with her truths. "I was hoping for so words of encouragent. Sothing to remind I'm not walking a total suicide path."
Her gaze narrowed, and for a beat, I worried she'd simply scoff. Instead, she let out a sardonic laugh. "Encouragent, huh? Fine. Don't screw up."
I groaned. "Co on, Cecilia. You can do better than that."
She moved closer, and to my surprise, she placed a hand on my shoulder. "Look, you're a pain most of the ti, but you're also the most annoyingly capable person I've t. If anyone can pull off a Lich creation at your rank, it's you. Just don't let that ego blow it."
Sothing about her bluntness was oddly comforting. Her version of support might be prickly, but it was genuine. "Thanks," I said, feeling a wry grin tug at my lips.
"Anyti," she replied with a roll of her eyes. Then her smirk returned. "But if you do botch it, I'm charging double my usual fee for saving your sorry hide."
"Deal," I said, the weight on my shoulders easing a bit more.
I found Seraphina near the Academy grounds, beneath a cherry blossom tree that graced the outer courtyard. The petals drifted in soft pink clusters around her, a delicate contrast to her usual stoic posture. Her silver hair caught the afternoon sun, lending her an ethereal air.
She turned her head slightly as I approached, as if sensing my presence before I spoke. "Arthur," she acknowledged, voice tinged with curiosity. "What do you need?"
"I'm making the Lich today," I said, stepping closer. The swirl of petals brushed across my feet. "I guess I just… wanted to hear sothing from you first."
For a beat, she remained silent, eyes flicking toward the drifting blooms. "You don't need my words. You've already made up your mind, haven't you?"
The directness of her response gave pause, but I pressed on. "Maybe so. But I'd still like to hear them. It would an sothing to , Seraphina."
She faced then, blue eyes cool yet not unkind. "You're reckless, stubborn, and too confident for your own good. But you also make the impossible seem… possible. It's infuriating." She paused, letting out a soft sigh. "That's why you'll succeed. Not because you're flawless, but because you won't accept failure as an option."
Her words, quiet as they were, sent warmth through my chest. "Seraphina…" I began, unsure how to respond.
A faint twitch of her lips might have been a smile. "Don't make regret believing in you," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, feeling my throat tighten. "Thank you," I managed. "I won't."
Lastly, I found Rose at the Academy café, stirring a cup of coffee with a bored expression. She arched an eyebrow as I settled into the chair opposite her. "Arthur, you look like you're on a mission to gather last-minute pep talks. Spill."
I couldn't help but chuckle. Rose never missed a beat. "I'm making the Lich today," I confessed. "Just wanted to… talk before I go."
She set her spoon down, leaning back. "You never fail to surprise . Building a Lich? Sure, why not. I'm half convinced you could juggle ltdown bombs and co out unscathed."
I grimaced, but there was a fondness beneath her sarcasm. "So, that's a 'you'll be fine' from you?"
"Obviously," she replied, rolling her eyes. "You're insane, but you're also a genius. I'd be more shocked if you didn't succeed. Just… do a favor and rember all the tis I helped you when you're so unstoppable necromancer with a pet Lich, okay?"
I snorted. "How could I forget?"
She sipped her coffee, a grin dancing at the edges of her lips. "Good. Now quit bothering and go prove you're as amazing as I know you are."
By the ti I stepped into Professor Gravemore's lab—an echoing chamber brimming with dusty grimoires, archaic relics, and mana-driven apparatus—the knot in my chest felt lighter. The voices of my friends, ntors, and rivals echoed in my mind, each in their own way telling the sa truth: You can do this. And if I failed, I'd try again.
Professor Gravemore stood at one of the tall counters, the faint hum of a complex device overshadowed by the hush in the lab. He glanced at as I entered, taking in the slight edge of nerves in my posture. "You're late," he said, though no real reprimand colored his words. "You've morised the sequence?" Gravemore asked, glancing at over his spectacles.
"I have," I replied, voice firm. I surveyed the arrangent, verifying the runes. Everything was in place. This was it.
"And you understand the risk?" Gravemore continued, his gaze intense. "If your will falters, if your calculations slip, the backlash could be catastrophic. You may lose more than just the Lich components—you could lose your life, or worse."
A prickle of fear danced along my spine. "Yes," I said quietly. "But I'm prepared."
The professor's eyes narrowed, evaluating for any trace of doubt. Finding none, he stepped aside. "Then proceed."
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