The words had been hastily copied from Milo Macabre’s coveted black book and carried off into the night by pilfering hands. In the wee hours of the very next morning the contents of that same parchment along with the promise of a reanimation ritual were sold to Stella De Marco of Dire Grove for 20 gold pieces.
Never mind that the ink had smudged or that Oliver Bane had no idea how to pronounce the words scribbled upon the page in foreign tongue. The exchange was a good one and one that would keep him fed for weeks. True to his word Oliver intended to fulfill his end of the barter to the best of his ability. No matter how shoddy his skill, it would be done.
Sure he felt poorly about befriending Milo’s apprentice, Nathaniel Knox, with the ultimate intention of betraying him in the end. Nathaniel had been a good friend, a loyal friend, but business was business and being of low moral fiber Oliver had already convinced himself that a full belly and warm hearth were worth any price.
Standing at the foot of Cosmo’s grave a frightened Stella De Marco watched as Oliver yelled into the air commanding an unseen presence, demanding the soul of Cosmo De Marco be released from death. The winds picked up and Oliver held the soiled scroll tighter willing it not to blow away.
Sweat poured down his grimy face as he stumbled over word after spoken word. Finally, he pointed a grubby finger at the shade emerging from the mist. Stella screamed and promptly fainted seeing not the husband she loved but a slovenly dressed rotting corpse traipsing through the muddy grounds of the cemetery.