Chapter 1: An Encounter Despite the Odds

It was odd, really, being someone who had such a long lifespan compared to their previous life. Charlotte was not unaware of the circumstances under which she had arrived in Essellon, but it had been many years and her concerns lay elsewhere. 

For example, the regular raids on her island lighthouse in the middle of the ocean.

At some point, Charlotte grew quite accustomed to simply wiping any magical sense of her presence from the tower, just so the hordes of heroes or swordsmen or mercenaries or whatever they called themselves would simply leave. Occasionally, however, she wouldn't be able to put up her signal jam in time, and inevitably she would have to confront a hodgepodge group of people that wanted nothing more than her head on a pike.

Of course, the opposite was true of the other island residents. In exchange for her services, ranging from funeral rites to crop and livestock management, Charlotte received goods and produce from the local farmers. Recently, she had even informally agreed to mutually defend each other from local wild predators. 

Charlotte's current dilemma was much more personal though. Pepper Jack had lived through the end of her natural life and was currently approaching the end of her natural skeleton life. Her bones were shaky and clacked when she walked, and the spectral treats Charlotte gave her were only doing so much to cheer her up. Charlotte knew Pepper Jack was on her way out. Usually a willing creature could be reanimated for three or four lifetimes, but she could tell Pepper Jack was tired and wanted to rest.

A soft knock at the door distracted Charlotte and she placed one more treat in front of her cat before getting to her feet. Standing on her stoop, holding a basket of freshly caught fish, was Irina Phiar. Irina had introduced herself originally as simply a friendly human, but Charlotte had her suspicions that was not true. Sometimes, she could see Irina's hands glow just barely translucent, and even the most magical of humans didn't do that unconsciously.

"Good morning Charlie, here's a portion of the morning's catch."

Charlotte smiled. "Oh, these look delicious. Thank you."

"Did more of those ruffians come by?"

"Hm?"

"Well," said Irina, "there's a little..."

Irina pointed to her own cheek and Charlotte sighed. She felt the small cut just under her eye and shrugged with a light laugh.

"It'll heal in no time. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh, you're so lovely. I'd hate for anything else to happen to you. None of us would blame you for fighting back, you know." Irina folded her arms.

"That's alright. Necromancers have a reputation, and I've made my peace with that."

Irina looked like she wanted to say more, but the two of them had smiled their way through the same conversation many times before. Lately, it was more a show of friendship more than anything, and Charlotte appreciated it for its new meaning.

Behind her lighthouse tower, Charlotte began stringing the fish up in a small smoker while trying to keep the ash on just the apron and not her nicer clothes underneath. It was too early to have smoked fish for lunch, especially with the curing process in addition to the smoking process, but fish for dinner was an enticing prospect and quite doable. In the meantime, she could forage for herbs and magical spell components in the woods and perhaps acquire some berries or other fruits for snacking.

The forest was quietly humming with birdsong and critters rustling in the bushes. Charlotte waded through the underbrush, keeping her eye out for particular herbs and roots she needed. Ink for reanimation sigils usually required whorlberry root for the most potent crimson, and divination wanted silverweed more than lamb thistle, but if she could only find lamb thistle that would be fine.

After half an hour of sweaty, thankless nearly mistaken plant identity and walking too close to thorny flower bushes, Charlotte paused in a tiny clearing, silently cursing her own devotion to the craft. Lamb thistle and goat thistle were, traditionally, identified by which animal ate it more. Without that identifier, Charlotte's only trick was holding the leaves up to the light to see how transparent they were. 

If only both plants weren't low growing vines.

Charlotte reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and wiped her forehead, then surveyed her basket of riches. She had more than enough whorlberry root thanks to a small but dense patch of whorlberry bushes, and though the process had nearly driven her to madness, she also had a suitable collection of lamb thistle. Her only feeling of loss stemmed from a lack of matured wanderer's cordelis, famous for its inconsistency in its growth patterns. Ah well, the wound decaying potions could wait. 

With that, Charlotte stomped her way back to the lighthouse and paused at the door to catch her breath and once again wipe the sweat from her entire face. She looked down and her handkerchief was stained with all manner of dirt and stray leaves. Back into the wash it would go, despite having been freshly clean the day before.

Checking in on the fish, Charlotte pulled down the smaller ones and poked around at the larger ones just to check how they were smoking. Most of them looked close to done, so she left the smoker to its own devices without adding any more wood chips. 

As she made her way back into the tower, the door bell rang twice and Charlotte took the last remotely clean corner of her handkerchief to dab at her hairline. She slipped back inside through the back door and set the herbs to dry, then placed her apron back on its hook. Her friends had seen plenty of her at her most disheveled, but Charlotte liked to be somewhat presentable. It felt nice sometimes. What she didn't expect, however, was a completely new face, someone she'd never met before, breathlessly looking her lighthouse up and down.

"Who are you?" Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

"Oh." The young woman adjusted her glasses. "I heard there was a necromancer here."

"So there is. You can go home now that you know."

Charlotte made to close the door, but the young woman stopped her with a surprisingly strong hand and smiled. When Charlotte raised a hand with a spell prepared, the young woman put both of her hands up and took a step back.

"What do you really want? I've survived this long undisturbed, I'll do what I have to depending on your answer."

"Nothing of the sort you're implying!"

Charlotte let out a short sigh. "Then what?"

"My name is Farryn Lemorne—"

"I don't need to know your name—"

"And!" Farryn squeezed her eyes shut. "And I'd like to learn magic from you."

Charlotte flinched and nearly set off the spell she had been holding. She took a deep breath and let the spell fizzle out, then swiped a hand down her face in exasperation and disbelief. Farryn continued to watch her, curly black hair draped over a set of sparkling brown eyes blinking against smooth tan skin. Charlotte mulled over Farryn's words again and still could not believe her ears.

"You want to what?"