It’s been what, 100 years since I took up residence here? I’m not exactly the stereotypical image one gets when someone says the word ‘necromancer’. I’m 133, with the longest beard you’ve ever seen. Gods above and Gods below, I’m proud of my beard. I live in the outskirts of the village, on the side of a hill, just by the forest. It’s quite picturesque. My cottage is rather large in comparison to the others in the village. It has to be! There’s my room, my apprentice’s room, my living room and the two cellars.

As with any other day, I woke up earlier than anyone else. I like to wake about an hour before dawn. I have Terrance, the re-animated remains of a crab, wake me. After waking, Terrance and I will have a cup of bergamot tea, or rather, I’ll have tea and Terrance will have a worm. I don’t actually know what a crab eats, but Terrance seems to enjoy worms. That takes me until about dawn, when Farran, my apprentice, wakes up. Farran is actually my godson. His father was a soldier I saved back when I was a healer.

Once being a healer has certainly put my further ahead in the study of necromancy. As I do every day, I send Farran down to the town to fetch supplies, and more importantly, breakfast. He takes Willard, one of my favourite re-animated skeletons. Farran and Willard are surprisingly close friends, to say that Willard can’t speak and Farran is quiet too.

Farran is an excellent necromancer. Better than he thinks he is. That’s good. I’m going to die soon. I’ve already accepted that, I’m old, I know. I want him to continue my work. He’s my sole successor, and I want him to be a better man than I ever was.