Chapter 65 – Almost Elegant
“What do you mean, necromancy?” Cassius asked in a hushed voice, eyes darting around to see if anyone was within earshot.
There wasn’t. Neither he nor Maxim was foolish enough to loudly discuss something likely to cause a panic.
Maxim glanced around the communal building. None of the other healers were close enough to hear it either.
“The spell is disguised well. For all intents and purposes, it resembles a biological pathogen. A natural disease,” Maxim said, keeping his voice low. “But it’s still a disguise. What it’s really doing is draining the life force of everyone that’s infected.”
“The idea behind it is actually quite decent. Sick people naturally lose life force over time, so nobody would think anything was unusual—certainly not that someone was siphoning it away,” Orestis added. “Although, the drain is too constant and uniform to be a side-effect of illness.”
When Eirene gave him an inquisitive glance, Orestis clarified: “In a sick person, vitality depletes around the areas the body is fighting. His vitality”—Orestis pointed at the man he’d examined—“was draining evenly from everywhere. If they were going to create something this elaborate, they should have adjusted for that.”
Was it an oversight? Or just lazy design?
“That explains why divine healing works but medicines don’t,” Cassius said, the realisation arriving visibly. “The divine power purges the necromancy, while the healing removes the pathogen. But medicines only target the pathogen, which is why it looks like none of the medicines have any effect.” Cassius looked at his patients—the rows of cots, the hollow-eyed faces. “It’s because the true cause of their illness still remains.”
“But what would be the purpose?” Eirene asked. “Is it to have more people die in order to gather bodies to raise an army?”
Cassius paled at the idea.
“Unlikely. There are far easier ways to kill people in large numbers,” Orestis replied. “And any random cemetery will have more than enough bodies if numbers were the only concern.”
“Isn’t it?” Eirene asked. “I always thought necromancy was all about raising the dead.”
Orestis clicked his tongue. “Not really. It’s actually the least of what’s possible. Necromancy, at its core, is the study of souls.”
“It was originally developed by humans as a countermeasure against the inherent soul capabilities of demons,” Maxim added. “A way to defend against soul-based attacks without having soul affinity yourself.” He paused. “But then some people decided to get creative.”
Huh. I didn’t know it was originally developed as a defensive tool. Makes sense, though.
Cassius had somehow managed to go even paler. “Should we—should we really be discussing this so openly? Am I even supposed to know about this? You’re all Chosen. This sounds like it should be classified information.”
“Relax,” Maxim said. “This is just history.”
“So the Divinarium would have records on this?” Eirene asked thoughtfully.
“Doubtful,” Orestis said with a smile. He could already tell where her thoughts were heading. Eirene had never reacted well to gaps in her knowledge.
“It does, actually,” Maxim corrected. “It’s just in the restricted section.”
Cassius made a strained noise. “Restricted. I knew it.” He rubbed his forehead. “This was supposed to be a routine deployment. Treat the sick, manage the quarantine, go home. Not—” He gestured vaguely at everything. “—forbidden knowledge and secret soul magic.”
Maxim gave him an encouraging smile. “Hey, look on the bright side. As long as we get rid of the necromancer, we can cure everyone.”
“Not necessarily,” Orestis interjected. “This working is quite complex. The purpose appears to be extracting life force. But there’s nothing in the spell itself to direct where that life force is supposed to go; everything is being drained into the surroundings.
“No one would go through this much effort just to waste it all. So there must be some way to collect the life force—and that process is likely automated.”
“Meaning killing the necromancer won’t necessarily stop the spell.” Maxim sighed with mild resignation. “Figures.”
Orestis was actually more interested to know what this necromancer intended to do with this much life force. Based on his observations—as well as what he’d heard from Cassius—this spell was never meant to be lethal.
Yes, the infected would eventually die if it was left untreated. But this was Nomyra—healers were almost a demographic category here. He suspected this spell had been designed with that in mind.
Everything about it, from the extremely gradual drain to the contagion mechanics, pointed toward the same objective: turning the infected into sustainable sources of life force.
Infect the population, let them get cured, allow them time to recover, then infect again.
It was almost elegant.
“Oh well,” Maxim continued. “Guess we’ll have to go with the second option: find a cure. Which happens to align with our primary objective.”
Right. The Saintess.
Eirene turned to Cassius. “We’re actually looking for a woman. Young. A skilled healer. Likely specialises in research. Possibly unconventional in their methods.”
Cassius thought about it, then shook his head. “No one like that comes to mind. But if you’re looking for someone focused on research, they’d probably be at Merula village. That’s where the illness appeared first—where there’s the most data to study.”
Orestis was already unfolding the map when Maxim said, “It’s the fourth one on the list.”
“Right,” Orestis said, glancing at the location and refolding the map. “Should we gate there, or do you still want to walk?”
“In this case, gating would be the better option,” Maxim conceded.
Eirene held up a hand. “Before we go—why don’t we heal everyone here first?”
Cassius let out a tired breath. “That won’t help. We’ve already tried. My colleagues and I have healed every patient in this building multiple times over—why do you think we’re all so exhausted?”
He gestured towards the occupied cots. “Even if we heal them now, unless they remain inside a sustained healing field, the illness returns. We still haven’t been able to determine how it’s propagating.”
Hearing that, Orestis smiled.
Eirene noticed. “What?”
“He just gave me an idea,” Orestis said, “about how it’s spreading.”
And how the life force is being collected.
He kept the second part to himself. He still needed to verify it; there was no reason to start making declarations until then.
Eirene studied him for a moment, then asked, “Is there a way to cast a self-sustaining, wide-area healing field? Something to cover the village?”
Orestis looked over at Maxim and said, “It’s not that there isn’t a way...”
Being the hero that he was, Maxim had probably been thinking of doing exactly that before leaving. But from a strategic standpoint, Orestis thought it would be a mistake.
Maxim caught the implication immediately. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t cast the sanctuary spell?”
Cassius drew a sharp breath. “You can cast that?”
Orestis ignored the healer and said, “There’s a possibility the necromancer might sense it.”
A sanctuary would eliminate all harmful effects from the entire region, cutting off the supply of life force completely—and the area would remain protected indefinitely unless the sanctuary was actively dispelled.
If Orestis were behind something like this, he would have implemented some way to track the rate of accumulation. As such, a sudden drop in life force would immediately draw his attention—and prompt an investigation.
Of course, there was no guarantee this necromancer was also actively monitoring the system. However, given the sophistication of the setup, Orestis considered it to be the safer assumption.
Maxim nodded. “Fair enough.”
Cassius looked between them, incredulous. “Why does it matter if he senses it? That spell would save this entire village!”
“And if the necromancer decides to run?” Maxim said, his tone patient but firm. “If he abandons this area, he’ll do the same thing somewhere else—somewhere we can’t find him. We need to locate him first before we do anything that might alert him.”
Cassius glanced at his patients, then back at them. From the look on the healer’s face, it was clear that he understood the logic. But it was also clear that he didn’t like it—not one bit.
Neither did Eirene.
“Is there no way to at least alleviate their suffering?” she asked. “Something that won’t tip off the necromancer?”
Honestly, doing nothing would be better. Then again, it made little difference to him either way. Besides, there was always a middle ground.
Orestis glanced at Maxim. “How about consecrating the building?”
That way, the disruption to the overall life force accumulation would be minimal compared to a full sanctuary over the village. Outside the boundaries of the building, people would still get infected again. Within its bounds, however, the spell would be completely nullified.
The worst cases would have time to recover properly before being exposed again. That would prevent any potential fatalities—which, Orestis suspected, was Eirene’s primary concern.
Maxim looked at him. For a few seconds, he said nothing—just studied Orestis’s face with an expression that was difficult to read.
“What?” Orestis asked. The idiot would have thought of it immediately as well.
“It’s a good alternative,” Maxim said. Then added, “Just didn’t expect you to suggest it.”
Orestis gave him a flat look. It wasn’t that far out of character for him.
Maxim raised a hand and a sphere of divine light bloomed outward from his body, expanding in a smooth wave. It passed through the people without effect—not that it was meant to have any. The light continued outward, seeping into stone and timber, settling into the structure itself.
The effect was immediate. The tension in the room eased, replaced by a quiet, pervasive warmth—the outward signs of healing effects.
All of the healers, and even the patients—those who were awake—stared at Maxim.
“The consecration will hold for a couple of weeks,” Maxim said loudly enough that everyone would be able to hear. “Anyone inside this building will be under a sustained low-level healing effect. The ‘disease’ will not be a problem within these walls.”
Cassius looked at the colour returning to his patients’ faces, then at Maxim, then at the walls that now hummed with quiet, sustained divinity.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
Maxim smiled. “It’s what I do.”
***
They all gated to a clearing just outside the bounds of Merula village.
Before entering the village, Orestis asked them to keep the necromancy to themselves—at least for now. He was curious to see what these people had uncovered so far. Not for the information itself, but to gauge how close they had come to the truth. That would tell him what they were capable of, and might even offer clues to the Saintess’s identity.
There was a checkpoint here as well, but better organised than the previous village. The guard was more alert, the questions more detailed, and the logbook thicker.
Fortunately, when Maxim mentioned they were Chosen, the questions were effectively reduced to just one: proof. Once they provided it, the guard waved them through with an enthusiasm that bordered on relief.
“You’ll want to speak with Licinia,” he said. “She’s coordinating everything. You’ll find her at the research building. The one with the blue tarp. Can’t miss it.”
He was right; they couldn’t miss it. The research building was a repurposed barn at the centre of the village, its entrance covered by a distinctive blue tarp.
On the way, they noted how sections of the village had been repurposed into something between a field hospital and a research station. The areas were divided into distinct zones using rope barriers. There were also a lot more people here than a village this size should have contained—healers, volunteers, researchers, support staff. Tents had been erected to supplement the existing buildings.
They found Licinia inside the research building. She was younger than Orestis had expected—early thirties, dark hair pulled back efficiently, sleeves rolled past her elbows. She was examining a set of readings projected above a containment circle, cross-referencing them against notes pinned to a board beside her.
She looked up when they entered. “More volunteers? That’s good. We can use all the help we can get.”
The woman looked like she was about to start assigning tasks immediately. Before that could happen, Maxim said, “We do intend to help. However, we are all Chosen, here on a mission.”
“As long as you help in the meantime, that’s good enough for me,” she replied as she set down her notes. “So, how may I serve the will of the gods?”
“We are primarily looking for someone. I can consecrate one building to assist,” Maxim said, glancing over at Orestis.
Orestis nodded. Just one should not be a problem.
“Oh, that will help immensely,” she said, pleased. “We are rotating four healers around the clock to maintain a healing field for the most critical patients. I can reassign them to research and recovery monitoring.”
Licinia gestured for them to follow. “I’ll show you which one—and give you a tour along the way. Who are you looking for?”
When given the description, she returned a considering look. “Do you have a name? We’re almost all researchers here; all of us can be described as skilled and unconventional. And how young are you talking about?”
She did have a point; ‘young’ was a relative term.
They were assuming the Saintess’s age based on the fact that she had been alive as far as eight or nine hundred years in the future. If they excluded divine interference, and assumed only the mortal limit of a thousand years, the Saintess could be anything from twenty to a hundred years old.
Although, it was highly improbable for her to be too old. Just based on her skill with research, she would not have remained unnoticed for decades.
“Unfortunately, that’s all we have,” Maxim said to her. “We’re mostly operating on a prophecy of sorts. You know how those can be.”
His words prompted a sympathetic nod in response. Everyone knew how unreliable and vague prophecies could be.
Although, can my words even be considered a prophecy? They are based on future events. And they are unreliable enough, I suppose.
Meanwhile, Licinia took them through each zone with the efficiency of someone who had given this tour before, but didn’t consider it a waste of time—every new set of hands needed the full picture, after all.
Treatment wards housed patients in various stages of the illness. Quarantine zones separated the recovering from the newly symptomatic. The research stations were staffed by healers who had shifted from treatment to analysis, trying to understand what they were fighting.
Orestis paused at one of the stations and examined the readings. The data was thorough—pathogen structure, mutation tracking, treatment response curves.
It was meticulous work—and entirely normal. Nothing in the readings indicated anything beyond a stubborn biological infection.
That, in itself, tells me something.
“What have you found out so far about this illness?” Orestis asked.
“The pathogen was identified in the first week,” Licinia replied with the ease of someone who had already memorised everything long ago. “Resilient, human-specific, resistant to non-divine treatment. Animals are completely unaffected—livestock, pets, wildlife, nothing. Crops are fine. Whatever this is, it exclusively targets humans.”
“Have you determined how it spreads?” Eirene asked.
“That’s been our biggest frustration,” Licinia said. “We’ve tested every vector we can think of. Water, food, air, soil, animals—all clean. Quarantine slows the spread, but doesn’t stop it. We’ve had patients relapse in complete isolation.” She shook her head. “Proximity to other patients matters, but it’s not the only factor. Honestly, I think that is the key piece we need to solve this.”
Both Eirene and Maxim turned to him at that. Orestis shook his head in response to their unspoken question.
The tour continued to the primary treatment ward—a large building where a group of healers was maintaining a sustained healing field over the critical patients. Four of them, just as Licinia had mentioned. They were seated around a table, passively supplying mana to sustain the working while actively discussing theories about the disease.
It was a reasonably efficient arrangement. Unlikely to be productive, though. Maintaining a constant mana output for hours on end would be quite straining mentally.
Hardly an ideal condition for analytical work.
Maxim quickly did his thing, applying the consecration. When he was done, the four healers dropped their working, sighing with relief. One of them made an offhand comment about the Divinarium finally granting their request for assistance.
Their reprieve was short-lived, however, as Licinia excused herself to reorganise her staff. Clearly, she was the kind of person who didn’t tolerate idle manpower.
Speaking of being idle…
Orestis looked around, his gaze settling on the communal well.
I might as well do some testing.
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