Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I tried to bring back my granddads. I’m sorry that it came to this.

I know that this destroyed me last time. I know that Momboo had to fix me. I know that is not a luxury that I will be afforded this time. However, I can’t let my granddads stay dead when there is a chance I could bring them back. I have to at least try.

Centross, I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry that you’re finding this out through a note I’ve left in case this magic kills me. I’m sorry about tearing apart your relationship with Fenris. I’d hope that my death would fix it, but I know that you don’t want to get back with him.

Mom, I’m sorry I’m making you bury your son. I’m sorry I died when you came back. Please forgive me.

If this all goes wrong, I’m at my home.

Love, Rae Morningstar.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rae told Bucket as he set the quill down and blew gently on the writing to dry the ink. Once it was dry, he closed the fresh notebook and set it on the table. The note he had written on the chance that he didn’t make it back from resurrecting his grandparents was written and safe. It was the first thing anyone would see if they opened the book.

Bucket meowed at him.

Rae grabbed his bag from where it hung from the back of a chair and set it on the table, opening the flap. Carefully, he wrapped short white candles and a bottle of lapis-infused ink in paper. That parcel was placed into the bag. Then he packed his notebook and a thin book of necromantic spells into his bag. Food and water were already packed, enough for lunch and dinner, though neither was for him since he didn’t technically need to eat or drink. However, Raemond and Everett would probably want it.

“It’s going to be OK,” he said to himself and Bucket, refilling the cat’s food and water. Then he straightened, raking a hand through his hair and messing up his braid. His fingers didn’t shake as he pulled it out and rebraided it, tying the end off with a thin piece of purple ribbon Centross had given him.

His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the silver necklace resting against his collarbone. Normal people’s body heat warmed any metal pressing against their skin. Rae would always have jewelry that was as cold as a crypt. He would never get the taste of grave dirt scrubbed from his tongue. His lungs would never remember what it was like to not choke and suffocate to death; they would never draw in air again unless he was raising the dead. That feeling—the feeling of fresh air circulating in his clogged lungs and his heart finally beating again—was addicting in a terrifying sense of losing control and finally being alive again. Rae had never realized how much everything wanted to live until he was reduced to a walking corpse. He both hated and craved the feeling of bringing back life—of feeling someone’s heart beat under his stiff fingers—of hearing someone breathe and keep breathing. It made him scared of turning out like the monster who was Lennarius.

Rae sat down heavily, leaning back in the chair. His wrists ached dully from the bruises Lennarius left behind just a few days ago. Those were ugly, angry welts of black and blue skin where rotting blood pooled right beneath the surface of his skin. At least the blackened skin that covered his fingers and started to spread across his palm was one color, with only the yellow-green undertones visible when he held his hands up to the light. Rae knew his hands were ugly and monstrous. There was no point in denying that fact when the proof was attached to his body. The skin of his wrist was broken where he had dug his nails into the bruises and pulled them through dead skin, leaving red welts and drops of blood behind. For some reason, the bruises and welts didn’t fade like most injuries did as his magic healed them. Maybe his magic had finally understood that the wounds he continuously caused to himself weren’t worth healing. Maybe his magic understood that he deserved the pain. Centross would be disappointed in him.

“Fuck…” he whispered, tears suddenly burning his cloudy eyes. Rae sniffled and tilted his head back, wiping at his eyes. “I have to bring them back. I can’t just bring you, Centross, and Mom back without giving them the same chance. What kind of grandson would that make me besides a shitty one?”

Bucket meowed, his tail flicking from where he lay in a puddle of sunshine spilling inside the library from the rising sun. It was a nice day outside, though the morning air was still chilly. The sun was shining, melting all the snow from the previous week and turning the ground to mud. It was a nice day to die, Rae decided as he got to his feet and grabbed his bag. Bucket trotted after him, meowing louder, his tail twitching in annoyance.

Rae stuck out his shoe to keep the cat from leaving the library, gently pushing the animal back. “No,” he chided with a soft, sad smile. “You can’t leave the library right now. I know you want to lie in the sunshine, but you have to do that inside.”

Bucket screamed at him.

“You have food and water,” Rae said. “Centross is supposed to come over this evening.” Then his expression fell, and he leaned against the doorframe, his voice soft as his shoulders slumped. “He wanted to spend time together tonight… he said he had a surprise for me. He’ll—hopefully, I’ll be back by then with my granddads. If not, he’ll be here to take care of you, so there’s no need to scream like that.”

Then he grabbed his cloak and left, closing the door behind him. Rug was waiting for him in the stables at the inn, head lowered to niddle at the grass starting to grow again after the long, cold winter. The horse looked up as Rae approached and then went back to eating.

“Sorry,” Rae said, patting its neck before getting its tack on. “It’s not that far, and you can go back to eating grass there.”

The horse huffed at him as he tightened the saddle and bundled his cloak into a roll to attach to the back of the saddle. Then Rae mounted and guided it out of the pen. Its hooves clacked against the stony paths in Lodestar Grove. He passed Icarus’s house. It was dark. It was always dark. For a person who turned everything they touched into gold, they shied away from the light like a startled dog. He passed Athen and Jamie’s house. Their house was also dark, but the two young people were out. Rae rode into the forest, guiding Rug down the road cutting through the forest towards Westgrove, Westville, the graveyard where the Morningstar family had been buried, and the dusty Morningstar house.

The graveyard didn’t have headstones for Everett and Raemond. Thanks for that, Enderian. Rae didn’t bother stopping there when there was nothing but cold graves, a single headstone, and a lonely oak tree for his family. His granddads’ bodies might have been there, but it wouldn’t matter when he brings them back.

Rae stopped in front of his childhood home around noon, his lungs burning as he stared up at the overgrown front yard and run-down building. The paint was chipping, the windows were dusty, and it was nothing like the home he was used to for the first twenty-something years of his life until Lennarius fucked everything over. He had seen it twice (first when he went back the first time and found Bucket and second when he brought his mom back), but that didn’t make it any easier. It still made him want to cry. It made him want to punch Lennarius again. Rug snorted as Rae guided him around the house and to the shed-stall in the garden. The last time he had been there, it had been blanketed in snow. Now, there was green in the garden as plants started to grow again. Maybe it hadn’t just been a few days of good weather (that would quickly turn into snow and ice again) when Lennarius came to visit. Maybe spring was truly here.

Rae dismounted and got Rug settled into the shelter, patting the horse’s neck. “Stay here,” he said, like the animal would go anywhere. “I’ll be right back.”

Like this wouldn’t turn out as it had with Isla. Like he wouldn’t end up truly dead instead of a walking corpse. Rae pulled out the house key from where it hung around his neck and unlocked the back door. It creaked slightly as he entered the house despite Fenris oiling it, but that had been nine or ten months before, and Rae had only visited the house once since then. It had sat empty for so long—too long. It was dusty inside. The air tasted stale but, thankfully, mercifully, nothing like the dirt that filled his lungs. He stepped into the kitchen, sat down in his chair, and dropped his bag onto the floor. The kitchen was a bit more faded… a bit more sun-bleached… a bit more dusty and cold… a bit less of the house he remembered. Rae didn’t dare go upstairs. He didn’t want to see the dusty, empty bedrooms nor his granddad’s study or library. He didn’t want to hear how out of tune the piano had become or see how much the paintings had faded. Were they even still there?

“Fuck,” Rae said softly as he got up again and opened his bag, pulling out the stuff he had brought. He didn’t bother lighting a fire; it wasn’t freezing in the house, and it wasn’t like the cold could hurt him. He was, after all, dead.

Rae got to his feet and opened the book on necromancy, flipping to the last page. He used a candle to keep it open on the table. Then he opened his notebook to the pages where he had adjusted the spell’s rune slightly so it used less of his magic, which hopefully meant he wouldn’t die. He knew it would still work. He had tested it enough times on smaller creatures with and without their bodies. It would work. It had to work. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t work… if he failed.

Rae moved his chair to the side to make enough room on the floor for the spell. Carefully he traced the spell’s circular runes across the faded floor, lapis-infused ink glittering a deep blue-black in the sunlight: protection, strength, and safety forming the outer ring, with life and health creating the inner ring. Magic sparked across the ink where his blackened fingers cracked and dripped rotting blood onto the fresh wounds. He set the candles between the outer and inner circles, one at each of the four cardinal directions. Then he sat in the middle and opened the necromantic book. It was heavy and burned his bleeding fingers with sparking magic.

Carefully, he unbraided his hair, letting the long black strands hang like a curtain around his face. All it took were a few strands pulled from his scalp and set on the sun-bleached floor in front of him with a few drops of blood taken from his already cracked and bleeding fingers. He lit the candles with small sparks of magic.

Then he recited the spell: “Revenite, vivo, respiro, dic cor tuum ad pulsandum, te requiro, te amo, revenite.”

Death magic rolled in his chest like stormclouds rolling down a mountainside, trees bending under the weight of the raging storm just like his ribs creaked under the weight of magic. It choked his lungs with dirt and filled his heart with decades-old blood. Rae choked on bloody mud.

It hurt. Everything hurt. He was drowning under six feet of dirt. He was choking on grave dirt and thick blood. And— and for a moment his lungs burned, not from the death magic eating away at them, but from the need to breathe. He sobbed in pain, tears dripping down his cheeks.

For a moment, Rae was alive. For a moment, his heart beat rotting blood through his veins. For a moment, his lungs screamed for air. For a moment—

The world wavered around him, blackness sneaking closer to fill his vision. And then—

Rae blinked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud nor bird to break up the empty blue expanse. The grass under his bare feet was cool. The dirt was slightly damp. It smelled of rain, yet when he looked around, there wasn’t a hint of any weather except sunny warmth. He stood on the front steps of his house, staring at the purple-painted door surrounded by huge pink roses. With a shaky breath (in the warm summer air of his childhood home, he needed to breathe because there was fresh blood in his heart and no dirt choking his lungs), he pushed open the front door and entered the house. The hallway was free of dust even as the rooms off to the side wavered with the smoke-like quality of the very edges of people’s personal limbo-afterlife.

He was dead. He wasn’t in his own afterlife but his granddad’s, slipping through the veil between life and death to guide them with him. He was Orpheus, his necromantic magic the music that let him pass by Cerberus unharmed, where anyone else would have been torn apart by Hades’ dog.

Rae walked down the hallway, drawn to the backyard by the low rumble of voices. It smelled like fresh bread and roses. The backdoor was freshly painted purple with little pink and blue flowers painted around the window and handle. He pushed it open and saw—

Everett sat on the low stone wall that formed one boundary between the garden and forest. His hair was gray-brown and messy, his redstone-stained fingers curling around a mug and a book open in his lap. Raemond, with his long silver hair braided out of his face, knelt a few feet away from him next to a plant bed, hands buried in the dirt as he planted flowers. They were talking softly with each other, smiling and laughing like they had never died—like they had never lost each other.

“Poppop?” Rae asked, his voice thick with tears and trembling with each shaky breath. “Grandpa?”

Everett looked up first, setting his mug and book to his side as he got to his feet. “Rae?” he asked softly, forehead creasing with worry. “What are you doing here?”

He ran across the garden to hug his Poppop tightly, shoulders shaking as he started to cry. “I—”

He hugged back. His voice was soft as he hushed Rae gently and stroked his hair. “I’ve got you. You’re OK.”

Raemond got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his hands. “Sparrow, what’s going on?”

“I—” Rae lifted his head from where he had hidden it in Everett’s shoulder, looking at the man he had gotten his name from. “I miss you.”

The necromancer who had taught him half of his magic reached out with his steady hands to rub his back, cloudy eyes (his eyes had always been cloudy; that was the mark of necromancy that passed down through the Morningstar line) full of worry and love for his grandson. “It’s not yet been a year since you left.”

“I’ve come to bring you back.”

“To life?” Everett asked, exchanging a glance with his husband.

“I can do it,” Rae protested quickly. “I did it to myself. I did it for my friend. I did it for Mom.”

“Ah.” Raemond nodded. “So that’s why she left. How is she?”

“It’s only been a few months, but she’s good. We’re living with some friends I made.”

“And are you safe?” Everett asked.

Rae paused before shrugging. “They got rid of all the necromancers they could find, so the hunts aren’t going on anymore. I suppose that makes me safe.”

“Do people know you’re a necromancer?” Raemond stepped closer, cupping Rae’s face in his hands and turning his head like he was searching for any evidence of harm that came to his grandson.

He sobbed, his sight blurry with tears that dripped down his cheeks, snot dripping from his nose. “Yeah.” His voice cracked, and Rae started crying harder. “They’re kind. I promise.”

Everett held him tightly. “It’s OK,” he murmured into his grandson’s black hair. “It’s OK. We’ve got you.”

“I—” He choked on an ugly sob. “I’ve missed you two so much.”

“Oh, Sparrow,” Raemond said, his voice soft. He carefully wiped at his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“You can come back, and we can be a family again.” Rae sniffled, his throat burning with tears. “Mom will be delighted to see you, I won’t loose you to hunters, and I—” He wiped at his nose. “I really missed you.”

There was a moment of silence before Raemond shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. “No.”

“No?” he asked, his heart aching where it beat desperately against his ribs like a bird trying to fly back to its flock. “Grandpa please—”

“No,” he repeated, his touch gentle as he wiped away a tear and tucked a strand of hair behind Rae’s ear. “We lived long, happy lives.”

“Please—”

“We’d only die after a couple of too-short decades if you brought us back,” Raemond said. “Neither of us wants you or Isla to go through the heartbreak of losing us again. I have no desire to be buried for a second time.”

Everett nodded. “You grieved us once, Rae. It would be cruel to make you do it again.”

Rae shook his head quickly. “No—”

“Yes,” he insisted gently. “Some people aren’t meant to be brought back to life.”

Like Orpheus, he would return empty-handed.

“We’ll be waiting for you when it’s finally your time to die,” Raemond said, hugging him. “We love you, Sparrow.”

Rae broke down in his grandpa’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder. Raemond held him close, shushing him gently.

“I’m not going to remember this, will I?” Rae asked when his tears finally dried.

The smile Everett gave him was kind but sad. “No,” he said gently. “No, you won’t. You’re just going to wake up without us.”

“Oh…” He sniffled, wiping at his nose. “OK…”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, Sparrow,” Raemond told him. “This is a choice that we made, not because of something you did or didn’t do.”

“I—”

Everett laughed sadly. “We can’t change what you feel when you wake up alone, especially since you won’t remember this.”

“I’m sorry,” Rae whispered, his voice hoarse from crying as he rested his head on Grandpa’s shoulder.

Raemond kissed the top of his head gently. “Don’t be. We love you.”

Chapter Text

Caspian entered the library sometime midmorning, frowning when Bucket trotted up to him and screamed. “Can I help you?” he asked the cat. “Where’s Rae?”

Bucket stretched before weaving between his legs, meowing again. The library was strangely empty and quiet for it being the middle of the day. Usually, Rae was there. Or at least on a day like today, Rae wouldn’t not be at the library and leave his cat behind. If Caspian were any closer to Rae (and their last interaction hadn’t been Arisanna’s failed murder attempt), he would have called the necromancer’s attachment to his cat cute.

Caspian followed the cat into the workshop. Bucket jumped onto the table and meowed again, tail twitching nervously.

“Rae!” Cas called. Maybe he had just missed the necromancer. Maybe he was on the second floor or in the museum. Rae wasn’t avoiding anyone to the point he’d not answer them if they came into the library… at least as far as Caspian was aware. Then again, Caspian probably didn’t know his ex as well as he thought he did if Rae hurting Momboo was any indication.

There was no answer, and Bucket knocked the notebook off the table onto the floor. Despite his better judgment, he picked it up and opened it.

“Rae?” Caspian called again. When he received no answer, his gaze was drawn to the note scribbled across the very first page. It was in Rae’s distinct, neat writing and signed by the necromancer.

I tried to bring back my granddads. I’m sorry that it came to this.

I know that this destroyed me last time. I know that Momboo had to fix me. I know that is not a luxury that I will be afforded this time. However, I can’t let my granddads stay dead when there is a chance I could bring them back. I have to at least try.

Centross, I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry that you’re finding this out through a note I’ve left in case this magic kills me. I’m sorry about tearing apart your relationship with Fenris. I’d hope that my death would fix it, but I know that you don’t want to get back with him.

Mom, I’m sorry I’m making you bury your son. I’m sorry I died when you came back. Please forgive me.

If this all goes wrong, I’m at my home.

Love, Rae Morningstar.

“Shit—” Caspian set the book down quickly, spinning to enter the main section of the library. “Rae!!”

There was no answer. There would be no answer because Rae wasn’t there. He was gone. Despite his frankly shit relationship with the other, Caspian couldn’t help but care about the necromancer.

“Rae!!” he yelled again.

The library—empty and quiet—echoed his voice without any sound from the necromancer he wanted to see. He could leave then, leave Rae to whatever suicidal quest he had put his mind to, and no one would be any wiser. He could leave Bucket in an empty library or drop the cat off at the inn. Caspian could keep Rae out of his life for good.

Bucket meowed loudly at him.

“I—” Caspian swallowed hard and was surprised by the sharp burn of tears in his eyes. “Fuck.”

The cat meowed again, and Cas kicked at it without even thinking. Bucket jumped out of the way with a hiss before slinking off somewhere else in the library, long feathery tail twitching angrily behind it.

“He’s a necromancer,” Cas muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “I’m not supposed to give a damn about him.”

However, he was already turning and leaving, slamming the library door closed behind him and walking out into the warm spring air. Mud from melted snow squelched under his boots as Caspian left the clear stone paths to cut across fresh grass to the staircase leading down to his home. Aax wasn’t there, the olm having left early that day to go fishing or swimming or something with Ocie and Ulysses. Caspian had only vaguely been paying attention during breakfast, much too fascinated watching the blooming daffodils and tulips in the window pots.

Caspian saddled his horse and left. Rae had mentioned it to him a few times while they were still together… a house, his childhood home, just a few minutes outside of Westville. That must be the place Rae was referring to in his note. If it was… Caspian wasn’t sure what he would do exactly. Maybe he could get Centross since they had gotten close, or maybe Ulysses, seeing how he of all people had become friends with a necromancer. Caspian couldn’t help but be both jealous and angry at them, and he hated how confusing the feelings were.

It was sometime after noon when Caspian reached what he believed to be Rae’s house. It was better than he expected from necromancers: two stories with worn pale siding, an overgrown front yard with a massive rosebush taking over part of a wall, and dusty windows. It had fallen into disrepair, but he could tell that once, long ago, it had been a beautiful place to live. However, that had been twenty years ago, and time was not kind to the house despite the preservative magic radiating from it.

Caspian led his horse around the house, where he found a garden that was starting to grow back after a long winter. There was a small stable, and Rae’s horse, Rug, was secured in the shelter. Caspian dismounted, parked his horse in the other stall, and went to the back door. Faintly, the air smelled like fresh dirt.

Rae woke up sobbing. That was the only way to describe how he woke up fighting for breath, reeling from his heart beating behind delicate ribs. His body burned from death magic, his cheeks and eyes were wet with tears, lashes sticking together. There was blood and mud in his mouth as he tried, unsuccessfully, to hack his lungs. He was suffocating for lack of air— choking on grave dirt and rotting blood— asphyxiating because of broken lungs.

He was alive— he was alive— he was alive— he was alive— he was alive and in agony because his body wasn’t built to support life anymore. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop hurting, please. Epros was cruel for letting him experience pain that made him feel like he was falling apart.

He was kneeling in his kitchen, the cracked skin on his fingers spilling blood onto the sun-bleached wood floor. He was kneeling alone in the kitchen, the only sound being his ragged, panicked gasping for air that couldn’t make it past the bloody mud clogging his throat. The world was spinning around him, black spots invading his vision as Rae slowly suffocated. He was going to die again in his home, where he was supposed to be safe. His only comfort was that his granddads weren’t there to witness it.

Rae Morningstar slumped to the floor, blood and dirt dripping from cold, parted lips. His lungs gave up on trying to get fresh oxygen. His heart gave up on trying to push rotting blood through deteriorating veins and arteries.

He blinked his eyes open only a few minutes later to see the ceiling of his kitchen and the sun pouring into the room, his lashes sticking together uncomfortably from drying tears. Judging by the angle of light and shadows, it was just after noon. Then the clock in the hallway chimed one. He lay on the floor, lapis-infused ink and chalk smeared across the floor and his skin. His mouth tasted like dirt and iron. His fingers were strangely numb. His chest ached, but his heart stayed still. His throat burned with tears. It was so quiet in the kitchen without the sound of breathing or rustling fabric he had hoped to hear… the sound that would indicate he had succeeded in bringing his granddads back. Rae turned his head to the side and saw his hand, fingers curling in on themselves. The bruises on his wrists left by Lennarius were gone; there was nothing but smooth, unmarred skin there without any sign of the other necromancer or the marks he had left when he dug his nails into delicate skin. The black bruising from pooled blood had spread. Instead of being just in his fingers and only starting to creep onto his palm, it now took over most of his palm, following the lines in his skin and the ripple of bone and tendon underneath his skin. Outside, a sparrow started to sing, and he was struck with the sudden urge to cry.

The backdoor opened, and Rae couldn’t even bother turning his head to check who it was. Maybe if it was a necromancer hunter, they would finish him off quickly and rebury his body. Maybe he could go back to his granddads. Maybe his body would stop hurting. Maybe Momboo would stop dying. Maybe Centross would be left alone. Maybe Athena and Jamie would learn to live without him. Maybe Isla wouldn’t have to bury her son again. Maybe Centross and Fenris would stop fighting. Maybe Lodestar Grove would stop hating necromancers so much and see his monstrous actions as the exception and not the rule.

“Rae?” It was Caspian, which was surprising, sounding both shocked, horrified, and strangely worried. “What…” His voice trailed off as he took in the runes and failed spell.

Rae turned his head to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t think I left a note for you.”

“No, you didn’t. I read the suicide note you left for Isla and Centross,” he said, his voice sharp with anger.

“It wasn’t a—” he started to protest before sighing heavily. “It didn’t work, and it still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I read your note where you say you’re going to perform magic that’ll most likely kill you, and I’m in the wrong for checking on you?!” Caspian scoffed. “Are you really that stupid?!”

Finally, Rae looked over to see his ex. “Please just leave if you came here to insult me. The last time we spoke was when Ulysses stopped Arisanna from killing you and that—”

“How the fuck did you get Ulysses Themist of all people to like you?” he asked. “It’s well known he hates necromancers.”

“I’m not Lennarius, despite what many people, you included, want to think.” The necromancer sat up, swallowing hard as the world spun around him. “You seemed so sad last time we talked. You actually apologized.”

“You rejected my apology.”

He got to his feet shakily, leaning against the kitchen table heavily, the taste of iron only growing stronger. “So now you’re back to being mad at me? For what, Caspian? What are you mad at me for?”

“You’re a necromancer,” Caspian snapped. “Your kind tried to destroy the world!”

“A life witch created the Black Plague,” Rae said, sitting down heavily in a chair. He raised his hand to dry his cheek only for his fingers to come away smeared with blue ink. “A fire mage burnt down London. Momboo’s a life witch and yet you’re not burning her at the stake for a crime that someone else committed. Athena’s a fire mage and yet you’re not drowning him for a crome that someone else committed. So, tell me, Caspian, why are I and other necromancers paying the price for one person’s crimes?”

The man just scoffed, looking away quickly.

Rae got to his feet and turned on the kitchen sink to wash his face. The water was red as it swirled down the drain. His knuckles turned a lighter shade of black as he gripped the counter to stay standing.

“I—” Caspian huffed and dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s confusing. I don’t know what to think of this because I care about you, but you hurt my best friend and the person that saved my life. You scared my boyfriend. You scared me.”

“I scared you accidentally when I hurt Momboo accidentally after she had verbally attacked me and hurt me.”

“You’re killing her.”

“I’m not actively doing it though,” Rae said, his lips stained black with rotting blood. “This isn’t something I’m doing. I hurt her when she grabbed me, yes, but I had no control over what happened next. It’s not my fault her life magic reacts so badly to death magic.”

“I wish that had never happened.”

“I don’t. I’m glad I brought my mom back.”

 Caspian pursed his lips, averting his gaze quickly from the necromancer. “Her life magic is reacting to your death magic.”

“I never meant for that to happen!” he snapped before sliding down the cabinets to sit on the ground, his knees pressed against his chest. “You say it’s my magic like I had any control over what it did or the fact that our magic doesn’t mix well. I’ve never read or heard about something like this happening.” Then he paused, frowning. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look up from where he was looking through the cabinets. “I’m looking for the cleaning supplies.”

“Why?” he asked softly, confusion clear in his voice and the way he tilted his head just slightly like some little songbird or sparrow.

“I can’t imagine it’s a good thing to have the remains of the runes in the middle of your kitchen.” Cas found a washcloth and got it wet in the sink before scrubbing the ink and chalk from the floor. “It’s the least I can do.”

“We were fighting two seconds ago, and yet you’re being nice for seemingly no reason? What do you want?” Rae asked. “Is this your attempt at apologizing again?”

Caspian frowned at him. “I still care about you, Rae.”

“You hate necromancers, though.”

“I know!” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and messing up his dark brown curls. “And that just makes everything worse because my feelings towards you are complicated.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, don’t use that tone with me,” Caspian said, his voice sharp. Still, instead of leaving, he sat down on the floor across from Rae. “You’re a necromancer. I hate necromancers just as much as they scare me.”

Rae frowned, watching the sunlight move across the floor as clouds floated across the sky and tree branches waved. “Did I always scare you?”

“It was easier to ignore it before you brought Isla back and before Momboo got hurt. I know you brought Centross back, but I had known him while alive, and his body was right there. It felt like you were correcting the world. You didn’t have Isla’s body.”

Rae shook his head, unsure of what he would have done had he seen his mom’s broken body.

“That level of magic to truly bring someone back to life and give them a new body scared me both because I was worried for you and also because it was the same level of power that Lennarius has. You could raise hordes with that kind of magic.”

He glanced up at Caspian.

“And then you hurt Momboo, which was an accident, but Fenris and Aax were both on edge. It was a mess of emotions.”

“Right,” he said softly. “It’s only proper that you choose Aax over me. I can’t blame you for that.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“Caspian,” Rae murmured. “I understand. You’ve been with him longer.”

“I still love you,” Caspian said quickly. “I didn’t realize it until I ran into you at Ulysses’, but I still care about you more than a friend.”

“I didn’t even realize you would even consider us anywhere close to friends.”

“Please— please don’t be cruel.”

Rae frowned, throat burning with unshed tears, rotting blood, and grave dirt. “You were cruel to me when Mom and I came back. Aax, Fenris, Momboo, and you called me horrible names. I was called a monster. I was compared to Lennarius, whose actions ruined my life and destroyed my family. I was called a monster, an abomination, and a mistake.”

“I don’t think I ever said that…”

“I don’t remember.” The necromancer shrugged. “But at the very least you stood by and let it happen. You never stepped in to defend your boyfriend. You never made Aax, Fenris, or Momboo stop. You let them verbally abuse me and kick me out. I would have forgiven you if you had reached out that evening or even the next day to apologize and check in on me. But you never did. You blocked me.”

Caspian didn’t say anything, pulling his knees to his chest as he stared at the floor.

“The problem, Caspian, is that you didn’t do anything. That hurt just as badly.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

“I don’t love you,” Rae said, twisting his necklace around his fingers. “I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to love you like I once did. Our relationship won’t go back to what it was before. Maybe we can be friends again but…” He shrugged.

Caspian nodded before changing the subject with a thin, worn smile. “Obviously, I read the note you left.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Does Centross make you happy?” he asked, his voice soft.

Rae couldn’t help the soft smile that curled his lips. “He understands me. It’s nice to be with another necromancer who knows what it’s like to be hated for something you can’t control.”

“But does he make you happy?”

He paused for a moment before nodding. “He does.”

“Good,” Caspian said. “You deserve that.”

“He just broke up with Fenris not that long ago,” said the necromancer. “I can’t do something like that to him. I don’t want him to feel pressured or forced or uncomfortable.”

He nodded. “OK.”

Rae kept messing with his necklace. It was quiet in the kitchen with the birds singing outside. The room was comfortably warm with the warm weather and golden sunlight. It was a beautiful spring afternoon.

“You tried to bring your granddads back?” Caspian asked, his voice soft, giving Rae some privacy by not looking at him.

That time, Rae couldn’t hold back a sob, pressing the heel of his palms against his burning eyes, unnecessary breath catching in his clogged throat. “I—” He swallowed hard against the rising wave of tears. “What does it matter? I failed.”

“I’m sorry. I truly am.”

He sniffled, wiping desperately at escaping tears. “I just… they deserve to live. They were amazing and perfect, and my granddads. I wanted them back. I brought my mom back, and she deserved her parents back also.”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to try again,” Caspian suggested.

“No.” Even if Rae didn’t remember the conversation with Everett and Raemond (and wouldn’t remember it while pretending to be alive), he knew there were no second chances when it came to resurrecting people who should be dead. “I don’t get a second chance for this. They’re gone. Forever.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the silence resulting from the necromancer’s statement. “I’m so sorry, Rae.”

Chapter Text

Caspian watched as Rae dismounted his horse inside the pen behind the bed and breakfast. “You’re going to tell Centross what happened, right?”

The necromancer nodded. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“OK,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

The promise of future friendship and the slight smile Rae gave him before going inside were all the forgiveness that Caspian would get for a while. He was OK with that. It was only right after everything he did. Cas turned his horse to his house, getting it settled in the stable before walking inside.

“Hi, baby!” Aax chirped, curled up on the couch with Atlas.

“Hey,” Caspian said as he pulled off his boots. “Have you talked to Rae recently?”

His question was met with silence, and when he looked up, he could see the frown on Aax’s face. “No,” they said. “I haven’t. He’s not someone I want to talk to after everything he’s done.”

“What has he done?” Cas asked, his voice deliberately light. Instead of joining his boyfriend on the couch, he went to the kitchen to boil some water.

“I got some new tea from Dad,” she said instead of answering his question.

He nodded and grabbed a packet of mint tea along with his favorite mug, pausing when he saw Rae’s favorite mug sitting next to it. “What has Rae done?” he asked again.

Aax’s ears twitched so they heard him. They heard him, and yet they were refusing to answer him.

“Aax.”

“He practiced necromancy,” said the olm after a long moment, thin but strong fingers curling into Atlas’ thick coat. “He brought people back, hurt Momboo, and tried to kill Fenris.”

“And what if it was all an accident?” Caspian asked. “What if he felt threatened and decided that he needed to defend himself?”

She growled, chapped lips curling to reveal sharp teeth. “He hurt people I care about. Momboo is dying! Fenris has scars! He’s even turned Centross against Fenris, and we both saw how much that upset him.”

“And if it was an accident?” The kettle started to whistle, so Caspian took it off the stove and filled his mug with hot water. “What if he didn’t mean to hurt anyone?”

“That just makes it worse,” Aax said. “It means he can’t control his magic or his emotions. That’s dangerous.”

“I—” He swallowed hard and dropped the tea bag into the mug. “I’m tired of being angry at him… of being scared of him. It’s Rae, Aax. We both know he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“He’s dead!”

The house was silent and still. Caspian stared at his mug, one hand still on the kettle handle where he had placed it back on the stove. Atlas had frozen, staring at Aax with wide eyes and ears pinned back. Even Aax looked startled with themselves.

Then, Atlas got off the couch and darted upstairs, her tail between her legs.

“He’s keeping himself alive,” Caspian said, his voice soft. “He was buried twenty years ago. He never worked with Lennarius. He’s not dangerous.”

“He’s no different than Lennarius’ hordes,” Aax hissed as her tail lashed angrily. “He’s just one of the shambling dead convincing everyone around him that he’s alive and harmless.”

“You called him an abomination.”

“That’s what he is,” she snapped. “Caspian, don’t tell me you’ve been listening to that monster?”

He paused and took a deep breath. “We ran into each other today and talked. I apologized.”

“Caspian!!”

“I should have stood up for him when he brought Isla back!” Caspian spun to face his boyfriend. “Rae, our boyfriend, didn’t deserve the way we talked to him. He had just died and—”

“Good!”

“He had just died and come back. He needed support. We were horrible partners to not offer that.”

“He’s actively killing Momboo! She’s getting worse; Ocie was telling me about it this morning. Momboo is dying because of him!”

“It’s not his fault!” Caspian scoffed, shaking his head. “I would have thought that you of all people would know what it’s like for everyone to think you’re a monster and have to prove again and again that you’re not.”

“Shut up,” Aax hissed as she got to her feet with a low snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I—” He poured his tea down the sink. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t have this conversation right now. We were in the wrong for how we treated Rae. What he’s done to hurt us was an accident that he regrets. He’s not evil. He’s not a monster. I’m going on a walk.”

“Caspian…”

Caspian shook his head and walked back to the door, pulling his shoes on before calling out. “Atlas! Come here!”

His dog darted down the stairs, her tail starting to wag again. Then he left and closed the door once Atlas was through. His feet carried him along the stone path to the two-story white and blue house built by the ocean’s edge. This time, the ocean was calm, a deep blue, and free of ice. The wind coming off it was cold and made the temperature along the sun-warmed sand drop. Caspian knocked on the door.

Ulysses looked confused when he opened the door. “Caspian?” he asked. “Can I help you with something?”

Cas swallowed hard. “I—can I come in? Please?”

The older man nodded and stepped back to let him in. “Of course. Do you want something to drink?”

“Water?” he asked as he sat down at the kitchen table. Atlas tucked herself under his chair, her tail wagging and knocking against the table leg.

“What’s going on?” he asked, setting a cup of water on the table.

“Aax and I got into a bit of a fight.”

Ulysses raised an eyebrow. “Is this something I should know about? Or is this something private between you two?”

“It was about Rae.”

“Oh.”

“I ran into Rae at the library,” Caspian said, shrugging. “We talked. He yelled at me for how I treated him and how I stood by and let him be treated. I realized I fucked up, I apologized, and he said that he’d be able to forgive me one day.”

“Mhm.”

“I talked to Aax about it when I went back home. I asked her what Rae had done to deserve how we treated him. It turned into a fight.”

Ulysses nodded. “Right.”

“The only excuse Aax could give was that Rae was a necromancer!” he snapped before pausing when Atlas whined and nudged at his hand. “His “crime” was something he had no control over… something that he was born with. Yeah, he hurt Momboo, and she’s sick, but Rae said it was an accident, and she had been yelling at him for bringing Isla back.”

“I assume you left so the argument wouldn’t get too bad?”

Caspian shrugged, his voice soft. “I didn’t like how Aax talked to me or about Rae. I still care about Rae. I— he deserves so much better than being called a monster for being a necromancer. He just wanted to bring his family back.”

“I can understand wanting to help your family and being scared of necromancers,” Ulysses said gently. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Thanks… I just needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t act like I was going crazy for caring about this.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m glad you felt safe enough to come to me.”

“Sorry for barging in with Atlas,” Caspian said.

“It’s fine,” Ulysses laughed. “She’s cute.”

He nodded, messing with his sleeves, as Ulysses set a kettle on the stove. It was peaceful in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the windows and reflecting against the shiny blue and white tile backsplash above the counter. Outside, the sound of waves breaking against the shore was a low but constant sound.

“Now what?” asked the older Telchin after a minute of silence.

“What?” His head jerked up from where he had been staring at Atlas.

“You can’t avoid Aax forever,” said Ulysses. “What happens when you go back home? Will the argument restart? Will you talk about it? How will it affect your relationship with Aax? You need to think about your next step to resolving what’s going on.”

Caspian frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t want to fight with Aax. I don’t enjoy it.” He paused and shrugged. “Good chance we’ll act like it never happened?”

“Is this not what Rae was angry at you for?” he asked, his attention on choosing which mug to use, giving the illusion of privacy. “I mean no offense, Caspian, but, from what I’ve been told by you and Rae mainly, you stood by and did nothing when Rae broke up with you and Aax… after resurrecting Isla and the resulting fight. From my point of view, it seems like you’re repeating the same thing that landed you in this mess in the first place.”

“I can’t break up with Aax. I love him!”

Ulysses frowned and set a pale pink mug down on the counter. “I didn’t say you should. However, Rae seems willing to forgive you only because you’ve seen the error of your ways and apologized. Now is not the time to be sweeping something like how Rae is treated by people he cared about under the rug.”

“I—” Caspian swallowed hard and shook his head, running his hands through Atlas’ fur when she nudged his fingers. “I don’t want to choose between them.”

He just shrugged. “I can’t make that choice for you. I can only give you my opinion as an outsider.”

“How did you, out of everyone, be fine with Rae being around?” he asked. “Since he’s a necromancer.”

“My son cared about him,” Ulysses said as he made himself tea. “And I don’t think that necromancers ever deserve to die because of the crimes of one person. Though, that lesson took a while to learn.”

“Oh…”

“Ten years of hatred and fear can be hard to unlearn, but it’s not impossible. Everyone has a choice of who they hate. I made a choice. Aax is making a choice. You need to make a choice.”

Rae entered the bed and breakfast’s kitchen, closing the door behind him. Athena and Jamie weren’t home; they had told him that morning that they were going on an adventure for the day. Centross had teased them about it being a date.

“Centross?” the necromancer called out softly, waiting for an answer or any sound of movement from deeper in the building. “Centross?”

It took a minute or two, but then Centross came downstairs with a yawn, his clothes and hair ruffled. “Hey,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hi Centross, did I wake you up?” Rae asked, his voice soft, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I wake barely asleep.” He shrugged before his sleepy expression shifted. “You have something on your face.”

He raised stiff fingers to his cheek where the other had indicated, and his hand, blackened and bruised, came away blue from lapis ink. “Oh… I thought I had washed it all off.”

“Messing around with magic ink?” Centross asked with a grin, teasing gently.

“Yeah,” Rae said softly, his voice rough with the sudden rise of tears. He tried to swallow them down, but it did nothing as they burned his eyes.

The still-living necromancer stepped forward, his warm hands grabbing Rae’s blackened, bruised fingers, running his thumb oh so gently across the lines on the dead necromancer’s palms. “The black spread,” Centross said, his expression twisting into one of worry. “Rae…”

Those beautiful dark purple eyes looked up at Rae’s face, worry and fear written clearly across his face. And Rae started to cry again.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, pulling him close. “What happened?”

“I—” He choked on a sob, tears burning his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. He was so tired of crying that day. “I tried to bring back my granddads, and—it didn’t fucking work!”

Centross made a soft, sad sound as he tucked Rae against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rae.”

“I failed,” he forced out even as he leaned into the comforting warmth the other offered.

“I’m glad you came back. I’m glad you’re not dead somewhere far away from here.” His lips pressed gently against the top of Rae’s head. “Let’s get you into bed. It’s early, but you clearly need the rest.”

Rae nodded quietly and trailed Centross upstairs, kicking off his boots when they entered his room. Centross looked away so Rae could get changed before joining him in bed, tucking the smaller man against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” Centross murmured into the quietness of the room, only broken by Rae’s soft sobs. “It’s going to be OK. I’m right here, Rae.”