The next morning, Reyleigh was still giddy with the thought of finally being picked for the exam. Distracted, she fumbled a few simple moves during the morning spar, resulting in a tirade from one of the officers. Alistair was nowhere to be found. That wasn’t unusual. He had disappeared for long periods of time for as long as she had known him. Even in the early days, after he had found her, he left her alone without any explanation. At first, she felt abandoned, but after a while she got used to it, and now, she didn’t think too much of it. High-level people were eccentric by nature, and Alistair even more so than most. The watch and the city took his absences in stride and so would she.

  Reyleigh breathed a sigh of relief while drying her sweat on a small towel she had brought. She ended up using twice the usual energy for the exercises. The officer on duty—she vaguely remembered his name was Maren—had ridden her hard because of multiple slip ups. The exam rattled inside her head and her thoughts spun in circles.

  Would Themis actually be there? What would they face? Would it be dangerous? Would they die?

  A thousand questions and no answers.

  She felt thankful that there were lessons scheduled for the remainder of the day. As far as she knew, they would be about taboo classes, which was actually pretty exciting for once. Usually, the grey-haired Mr Smythe focused his lessons on the laws and regulations in and around Unbern. The free city governed itself, and as such, had a plethora of strange and inconsistent laws. Reyleigh silently suspected that the rogue nature of the city and the clouded circumstances of its founding had led to laws filled with loopholes and incongruences by design.

  Done with her towel, she looped it through a ring on her belt and followed her fellow recruits into the indoctrination house – as some of them called it. The building was less a house and more of a barn if she was being honest, but for some reason the name had stuck, and even the lecturers referred to it by its nickname. The large airy structure was located on the west side of the Watches’ grounds and housed eight rows of wooden pews accessed by a set of double barn doors front and back. When she entered, she saw the familiar small podium in the middle of the room, with half of the pews on either side of it. Today’s lecturer, Mr Smythe, sat on a chair in the centre of said podium, his bulbous nose deep in his latest book.

  Probably some lawbook again. Reyleigh thought.

  She had asked him what book he was reading once and had learned a painful lesson about what happens when you ask questions you really don’t want the answer to. It had had taken her over twenty minutes to escape the tirade.

  Taking her usual seat in one of the middle pews, she saw Owen enter and waved at him. Harald lumbered up behind him and waved back before both of them wandered over.

  “I’m actually looking forward to this one.” Owen said.

  “One of the new recruits had the gall to ask him about the Necromantic Plague last week and, for once, he actually answered. From what I hear, he told the recruit to attend today if he wanted to learn more…” He swivelled his head around, trying to find the unnamed genius without success.

  Both of the men sat down next to Reyleigh on either side.

  “You sure? We’ve tried everything to get him to spill the beans about what happened. Why would he suddenly agree now?” Reyleigh answered.

  The Necromantic Plague was a dark chapter in the history of Unbern and the few people who knew anything about it kept the knowledge under wraps. Everyone in the city knew that it almost wiped Unbern off the map two hundred years ago, give or take a decade or two, and that it involved an exceedingly powerful Necromancer. Aside from that, nobody ever talked about it, and if someone asked too many questions, they were brushed aside with the excuse that “taboo classes are taboo for a reason”.

  Even children knew the names of the most known taboo classes and what they were. However, it was the specifics that were considered too dangerous to talk about. Reyleigh had pestered Alistair about taboo Classes forever, but only eked out the same information as everybody else; Blood Mages, Death Mages, Necromancers, Witches and Soul Controllers, those were the ones who destroyed cities and burned their very soul to dust in the process. Exactly why they were taboo in the first place or why they were said to affect the soul of those who chose them remained a mystery.

  Before Reyleigh could get an answer to her question, Mr Smythe stood up and all the recruits — who filled the pews till bursting, with some even standing by the walls — went silent.

  “Well, well, well…”

  He paused to look out at all the eager faces.

  “I guess word of today’s topic has gotten out. No matter. It’s prudent that you know, and my knowledge is getting staler by the day.”

  The old man paused and flicked his long robe to the side as he paced the podium. He looked like he was in his late seventies, with a long grey beard that reached all the way to his chest and calm eyes ringed by splotched greying skin. He had lectured them extensively through the years but had kept a clear distance between himself and his pupils, so they didn’t really know much about him.

  “It was the year 816 of the Godless Age, 216 years past. Unbern was much the same as the city you see before you today, a bustling congregation of humanity on the edge of civilization, a gateway into the wilderness and into our two dungeons.”

  Mr Smythe paused, revelling in the recruit’s rapt attention. However, Reyleigh noticed that behind his smug fa?ade his eyes reflected suppressed, hidden pain.

  Why would this affect him so much? His parents weren’t even born when this happened.

  Reyleigh’s musings came to a quick halt when the old man collected himself and continued.

  “The days went by quietly. Heroes and adventurers rose and fell, and the council kept our fair city safe and thriving.”

  Reyleigh snorted at the word fair to describe Unbern – and wasn’t the only one. Mr Smythe ignored them.

  “The citizens took for granted that this peace and prosperity would last forever, and spared not a thought to the evil that would soon consume them. It started so innocuously; a baby died of a tragic illness, a father buried his son from a high fever, a granddaughter cried as her oldest living family member succumbed to fatigue. The tragedies kept multiplying until it was clear to the council and the army that something was not as it should be. Too many were falling ill and too few recovered. Suddenly, reports of murder rose exponentially. People were killed in their sleep or outright attacked. The unlucky few who couldn’t stay inside scurried from one place to the next, too afraid of their own neighbours to linger.”

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  The large space was deathly quiet, and the recruits held their breath as the old man continued.

  “A few adventures finally took matters into their own hands and uncovered the grim truth; the murders were being committed by the undead. The assailants were dressed in the clothes they died in – clearly of Unbernian make – and could not be differentiated from the average citizen. For do not be fooled! The stories of shambling undead are just that, stories to frighten children, a real Necromancer can create zombies so lifelike that they can even talk as they did in life.”

  A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Information like this wasn’t commonplace, and the gears in Reyleigh’s brain worked furiously to catalogue it all. Not only was it interesting and almost addictive in its forbidden nature, but it was also knowledge that might save her life one day. Taboo Classes seldom affected Unbern, but they were not unheard of and seeing the signs could be vital.

  “The council hired the adventurers to investigate. With all the powers of the rulers of Unbern behind them, they soon uncovered a shocking fact: almost half the city had already succumbed and had become the walking dead! Just as the revelation crashed through the citizenry, the host attacked.”

  Mr Smythe’s voice trembled slightly before he cleared his throat and continued.

  “In a shocking turn of events, the Necromancer revealed himself and brandished a hereto unknown and most heinous brand of magic. I will not repeat even its description here, as it befouls the very mind of those who hear of it, but rest assured that it was both terrible in its power and cowardly in its design. In a panic by the sheer devastation his magic caused, the adventurers and the council survived by using ancient artifacts they looted from within the city vault.”

  He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and let the gravity of his words sink in.

  “After weathering the storm, they launch a counteroffensive. One hundred days and nights they fought until the only living who remained alive were the very best and highest leveled of them all—aside from the foul Necromancer. The future was bleak, but the few elites held fast and banded together in their time of despair. With everything to lose, they assembled a singular team that set out on the impossible task of killing the necromancer once and for all. The powers of the taboo Classes impossible to fathom for those who have not seen it themselves, but they are also a two-edged sword. To reach for power over death like a Necromancer, you must delve into matters so vile that your very soul becomes tainted, and so the Necromancer had lost his sanity. Through manipulation and desperate sacrifice, the party narrowly clutched a pyrrhic victory and sent his soul to the everlasting realm of death.”

  A silence so deep you could cut it with a knife smothered the hall. More recruits and several full Watchmen had snuck in while the story echoed around the chamber, and every last one of them stood enraptured. Mr Smythe had never shown this brand of incredible storytelling before, and Reyleigh was somehow sure she would never see it again.

  The silence stretched on as Mr Smythe looked at the floor. Reyleigh doubted if he would say anything. Just as she was about to look away, he finally spoke.

  “You might wonder why I recount this story today. A tale which I have not retold for several decades. Some might claim that I have turned to nostalgia or weakness in my later years, but the truth is that I have become convinced that this retelling will be what gives you the tools to fight evil. The powers that be are afraid you will emulate it, but for the coming trials, the knowledge is vital.”

  The old man looked like age was pressing down upon him in that moment, and a weary sigh escaped his lips. Just as he was about to leave the stage, he stopped himself and continued.

  “To not learn from history is the greatest sin of the young, and I fervently hope that you keep this story close. If you are ever tempted to go down the path of the taboo, remember the fate of the Necromancer and the suffering that was caused by his Necromantic Plague.”

  With a look of content resignation and those last words, he bowed his head in a gesture of respect and slowly shuffled off stage.

  Reyleigh almost felt surprised when she didn’t see anyone waiting for him at the podium’s base. The entire story had seemed like a final defiant act of some sort, but it seemed to be just her imagination.

  Ripping her gaze away from the form of Mr Smythe, she looked at Owen and then towards Harald. Now that the lesson was over, she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

  “Did he actually reveal anything controversial? He gave almost no details at all! How did the plague even start? How did the Necromancer control and raise thousands of undead? What powers defeated him? Gods damn it, he didn’t even tell us the names of the heroes!” Reyleigh spoke at the same time as everyone else.

  “Yeah. I knew it was gonna be like this! Every time they talk about anything taboo, they hide almost all of it. No details at all! I know they’re trying to protect us, but how the fuck are we gonna protect the city from things like this if they won’t tell us how it all works?” Owen replied with gusto.

  Harald stood up and silenced both of them with a stare before they could begin a tirade.

  “Let it go, you two. We got a lot of information today, far more than what these lectures usually contain, and taboo classes are taboo for a reason. Even Mr Smythe hinted at the fact that he was breaking some unspoken rules today. If he deems the knowledge too dangerous, I’m sure it’s well thought out.”

  His calm presence took the wind out of both their sails and they reluctantly nodded along.

  “Anyway, I’m sure now that he’s talked about Necromancers, we might hear about Blood Mages and Death Mages too. Unbern has a long history, and both those Classes must have sown havoc over the years. My father always talked about the Blood Mage battle he fought when he was still a Watchman.”

  “Yeah, I guess we can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s just so damn frustrating.” Owen said.

  He rose from his seat and started walking out, following the crowd. Reyleigh followed.

  They walked a few steps before Owen spoke again, a stubborn look in his eyes.

  “Blood Mages boil your blood, Witches turn you into a frog, and death mages rot you from the inside out.”

  Owen mimicked being an old man, repeating the lines they had all heard as children.

  “It’s just so vague! You heard what he said about zombies; I had no idea they could talk if a Necromancer was skilled enough. That’s freaking terrifying!”

  Reyleigh had to agree with Owen. The Watch gave information freely, and they learned a great deal, but it always seemed to stop just as they were getting somewhere interesting. It was clear they held back the important parts by design.

  Like Mr Smythe said: they’re afraid we’ll emulate them, but who would do something so vile?

  Reyleigh played through several scenarios within her own mind but couldn’t really see herself picking a Class like that. For one, it would be a death sentence, and two, it would ruin her life if she somehow managed to live through it.

  Is power so tempting as to sacrifice everything like that?

  Before she could find an answer to her question, Owen and Harald started arguing, throwing her thoughts to the wind. After a while, she joined in and the three of them argued about what they should be able to learn all the way back to the barracks. When they arrived, the theories had grown from speculation into full-blown conspiracies. Owen lightened the mood by acting out the most sinister plots, but Reyleigh couldn’t keep from contemplating if there wasn’t a kernel of truth somewhere in the outlandish theories.

  Retiring for the night and lying in her bunk bed, she thought about what manner of things were out there. There was an unending number of Classes capable of the incredible feats, unlimited levels to be gained, and mythic monsters and beasts around every corner. She was starting to realise how little she actually knew of the world, or even Unbern for that matter, and she didn’t like it.