Graelish glanced at him for a second and said, "Spatial magic involves a lot of complex concepts. And it requires counterintuitive logic, which is why many people can't understand it. But don't worry, with my guidance, it'll be a piece of cake."
Elias, nervous, swallowed hard and waited in silence.
Graelish continued,"In our reality, there are overlapping dimensions. Some are easy to access. Others are sealed by arcane, natural, or divine laws."
"My purpose is to help you reach one of those dimensions: the Necrosphere."
He made a gesture in the air, slowly tracing a circular symbol with spirals rotating in opposite directions.
A faint ripple shimmered in front of them, as if reality itself were hesitating.
"The Necrosphere is a dimension parallel to the physical world. A plane suspended in time, where there is no heat, no light, and where the dead await.Everything there lies dormant, inactive, but preserved."
Elias said nothing, absorbing each word.
"With spatial magic, you can learn to bend the boundaries between planes and seal your undead there. They won't decay. They won't drain your mana. They'll sleep, awaiting your command."
"When the time comes, you can summon them back."
"But be warned," he said firmly. "Maintaining a connection with the Necrosphere takes a toll on your soul. It's not dangerous at first, but the more creatures you bind there, the heavier the burden on your spirit."
Graelish motioned with his hand and instructed: "Lie down. Keep your back exposed and try to relax."
Elias hesitated for a moment but obeyed. He lay down carefully, the cold air wrapping around his skin, and rested his face against the stone floor.
A cold palm settled on his back. Moments later, a viscous, icy liquid began to run across his skin.
It was thick, like clotted blood mixed with ash. Graelish spread it with his fingers, slowly tracing invisible patterns.
"Flame," he whispered.
With a snap, a bluish flame flickered to life in his hand. Elias shuddered. Graelish pressed the fire against his back. The pain came instantly, like a blade of fire carving into his flesh.
"AAAH!"
The scream echoed through the chamber, mingled with the stench of burning flesh.Elias punched the floor, teeth clenched, forcing himself not to move.
The pain was searing, and each second tested his willpower.
When the pattern was complete, the flame faded. Elias was panting, body slick with sweat, eyes brimming with tears.
"You could've warned me this involved physical torture!" he snapped between breaths.
Graelish shrugged, unfazed."And would that have changed anything? Would you have refused to mark your body with the seal?"
Elias wanted to reply, but he had no argument. He just sighed, choosing silence.
"This tattoo allows you to channel spiritual energy and bind a specific undead to this mark," Graelish explained.
"As your soul grows stronger, you'll be able to add more. Each brings fragments of their abilities or knowledge... so choose wisely."
Elias remained quiet for a moment, processing it, then asked,"Can I choose any dead person?"
Graelish nodded. "Anyone. As long as you have the knowledge, strength and endurance necessary."
His next question came hesitantly. "If I bind someone specific... will they retain their memories and personality from life?"
Graelish instantly understood where this was going. His eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a grave tone.
"If you're thinking of bringing back a loved one… consider what that really means."
"That person is, or was. undergoing spiritual purification. Freeing themselves from sins, pain, and the chains of their past existence. Interrupting that process is a violation of nature."
"It means, in essence, they'll never reincarnate. Never be someone new. They'll be chained forever to that identity, to those traumas.
The shackles that haunted them in life will never be broken."
Elias said nothing, lost in thought.
Graelish's words felt heavy, like a burden. It was the realization that necromancy wasn't just technique or power, it demanded conviction.
A brutal kind, stripped of compassion.
It was not a path for the altruistic.It was for the selfish, the tainted, those who dared defy morality and shoulder the weight of challenging life itself.
Just like Vaelish, who had refused to accept his own mortality, Elias would have to do the same.
Necromancers don't settle for the natural order. They rebel against it.
If that means corrupting what's beautiful, violating what's moral, and smiling in the face of anguish and despair, so be it.
After all, a man who rises against cruel, unchanging reality, dreaming of a brighter fate, has nothing to lose but his chains.
Elias stared at the floor. The mark on his back pulsed, alive, as if it had a heartbeat. "You… ever thought of bringing your wife back?" he asked softly, his voice nearly drowned by the silence of the hall.
Graelish stood still for a moment. The crackle of magic around them was the only sound.
"Every day," he finally replied. "And every day, I have to remind myself what that would cost."
Elias looked up."If you had the power… why didn't you do it?"
The necromancer folded his arms. His gaze drifted to some distant point, or perhaps to a time long gone.
"That was a long time ago. She's likely been reincarnated already.
The way she died... it was cruel. She deserved to leave in peace. She needed a new beginning."
A heavy silence followed. Elias felt the words like slow, twisting daggers.
Graelish spoke again, voice softer now: "For a long time, I lived inside an illusion. A fantasy tailor-made for me, built by my father and brother. A comfortable prison where everything I loved still existed."
He sighed, the sound steeped in years of regret. "It was a lie. But a sweet one. And I let myself believe it.I became complicit in my own captivity."
Then he turned to Elias, eyes intense but not bitter. "But you… you shattered that illusion. When you freed me, I felt pain. Anger. But also relief. Deep, overwhelming relief. Because deep down, I knew. I knew it was a farce. And every act I performed inside that lie… disgusted me."
Graelish stepped closer."You gave me something I didn't even know I needed: the chance to forgive myself.To accept that the past can't be fixed, only carried."
Elias swallowed hard. The words echoed inside him, deeper than any spell.
The necromancer placed a hand on his shoulder. Elias remained silent.
"I'm not saying I thank you for it," Graelish added. "But it was necessary.Truth is a double-edged blade. It cuts, but it frees."
Then, changing the subject, he said,"Enough talk. Let's get on with the magic."
Elias knelt at the center of the hall, his eyes restless, fixed on the cold floor.
Graelish stepped up silently. He stopped in front of him and spoke calmly:
"What I'm about to ask goes against logic. Against instinct. Spatial magic isn't science. It's a leap into the unknown."
He knelt in front of his student.
"That's why you need to act counterintuitively. I need to teach you to use your body and spirit, not your thoughts."
Elias hesitated."Will it… be hard or painful?"
"Only if you resist."
Graelish reached out and touched the center of Elias's forehead with two fingers.The contact was cold, like sinking into a bottomless lake.
Slowly, Elias's muscles relaxed. His eyes lost focus. His breath deepened and slowed.
"Now listen," Graelish whispered.
The hall vanished. Elias's awareness sank into a colorless, formless ocean where sound became vibration and images appeared as flashes in a suspended mind.
He saw inscriptions and geometric patterns. He felt curiosity.
"You must not try to understand them," said Graelish's voice inside his mind."Reason is an anchor. And here, you must float."
Elias saw his body moving, performing gestures he'd never learned but somehow knew. The patterns he traced in the air felt wrong, disconnected, and yet, they fit into something greater he couldn't see but could feel.
Time there wasn't linear. As he lost himself in the silent dance, the knowledge settled in, not as memory, but as instinct.
When he opened his eyes again, he was gasping, as if surfacing from deep waters. He was back in the hall, still on his knees.
Sweat trickled down his temple. His skin tingled. But his eyes, had changed. They were ready.
Graelish observed him in silence, then gave a slight nod. "Stand up. Now open the portal."
Elias rose. With slow steps, he positioned himself before the empty space. He moved his hands with instinctive precision, tracing symbols in the air with firm fingers. No hesitation. No thought.
The space tore open with a sharp sound. A portal emerged, unstable, flickering, but real.A gateway between worlds.
Graelish gave a faint smile. "That's how it begins."
Then he added, "Now comes the strange part. Leave your body."
Guided by Graelish, Elias lay at the center of the circle. Astral projection wasn't ordinary magic, it was a state between the physical and the spiritual.
Through rhythmic breathing and total focus, he drifted away from his own body.
He floated.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing, made of light and shadow. Below, he saw himself lying down.
The portal before him spun intensely, now reacting to his astral form. Without hesitation, Elias stepped through.
Crossing the portal was like diving into a bottomless sea. Strange colors, distorted sensations.
He wandered through interwoven fragments of space, until something called to him, a familiar whisper.
Through the void, he found what he sought: the Necrosphere.
A dead dimension, suspended in twilight. Fossilized trees floated in a sky without horizon. Fragments of bones littered the ground.
Elias touched the soil. There, he forged a bond. The living mark on his back burned, and he knew, that place now answered to him.
But the cost was steep.
"You must leave something of yours behind," Graelish's voice echoed in his mind."To seal a contract, you must sacrifice a fragment of your soul."
Elias awoke back in his body, gasping. The bond was made, but it wasn't enough.
He walked to a pentagram and retrieved a bayonet from his panel, the same one he'd brought from another world.
"She'll hear me if I offer this," he murmured.
Graelish simply watched. Elias drew a ritual circle with blood and ash.In the center, he placed the bayonet.
Raising his hands, he spoke strange words. The portal shimmered again, now flickering with pale hues.
A shadow emerged at the edge, a feminine figure.
Helena.
Elias dropped to his knees. "Helena... do you remember?"
She nodded. "I always knew you'd come."
The bond was sealed.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to cry, not out of weakness, but relief. Not from pain, but from reunion.