I Just Crave for Your Pheromones

The moist soil dirtied the man's boots as he continued to trek down the path to an abandoned graveyard. Dark was the sky and it almost looked like it was going to rain soon. That fact didn't bother him though. He'd be out in a jiffy once he finished the job enough to keep him dry.

Around him was a forest with slender trees and overgrown shrubbery. Some distance ahead, at the end of the pathway, the gate to the cemetery lay open, its hinges almost falling off the support column and its bars, rusty and chapped.

For a mage like him and one that had walked the earth for quite some time, he had been to different kinds of places, enjoyed his time while there and met some lively people who had no clue as to who he was.

But this one, however, was a different story.

He had never been in this cemetery before, or any cemetery for that matter. He hated such places, but he had to tolerate it for now. After all, what he was about to do would all be worth it in the future.

Mages had a versatile power. They could almost do anything if they trained and perfected it, but there was one power they were prohibited to use: Necromancy.

Once upon a time, he had come across a book meant for it. Instead of putting it on a shelf, he read its contents and even practiced the spells.

Now, all his hard work would come to fruition.

He was here in a cemetery almost forgotten by time to resurrect a certain woman.

He stared at the very ancient tombstone almost swallowed up by the ground. It was particularly set apart by the other tombstones around the premises. No statue of angels or gargoyles stood sentry near or around it, just untrimmed shrubs and towering trees that looked as old as time.

Carved on the black stone were the initials E.R. It was meant to be unanimous to all who looked at it, but to the mage, he knew exactly who this person was buried six feet below.