It had been a very confusing night for Jackson. First, while he was sitting on his couch and reading, he had been knocked onto the floor by a peculiarly strong burst of magic -- one that was more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. Then, after he had shaken the heavy feeling of dread from deep in his gut, he began to hear screams.
It started out with just one our two, which wasnât unexpected. He assumed a nervous citizen had crossed paths with one of the wolves, which were currently howling away in the woods, making it impossible for him to even try to sleep. But then the screams became louder and more frequent.
He wasnât much for heroics, but the screams were so bloodcurdling that he couldnât help himself; he had to investigate. Even though he knew someone out there needed help, he still made sure to put on his long black jacket and a scarf, not that he was particularly cold, but because he wanted to stall, fearful of whatever situation he would walk into.
By the time he had found the source of the noise, the screams were fading into shouts and sobs, and as he got even closer, he could see dead bodies all over the ground in the neighborhood that several witches in town populated. Being a necromancer, he ran towards the bodies, crouching down over the first one he came across. He looked to have been stabbed several times, and his body was pale and drained of blood, obviously, as all of it was seeping into the dirt around him. The dead man was familiar to him, as he frequented the produce stall that Jackson owned, but more than that, he was a father. He had a wife and four children. There was no way that he could let him stay dead.
He placed a hand on the manâs chest and shut his eyes momentarily, letting his power flow through him, and when it should have left his hand and entered the manâs body, something stopped it. It was as if for some reason, his power was confined to his own body, and he didnât understand it. It was similar to his attempts to resurrect a victim of the sickness that had been going around. He didnât want to believe that this was a related incident, so he got up and began trying to resurrect any dead body he saw -- women, men, children, the elderly, anyone. But any person that had died by some sort of stabbing incident could not be raised.
Fear filled him. Whoever had killed these people and made it impossible for them to be raised was gone, and he had no idea where they were hiding. Come to think of it, he hadnât seen Theo all day, which was strange, since he knew it was her day off. This sent adrenaline coursing through his veins and he jumped to his feet and ran, not stopping until he reached her house. Once he jumped onto the porch, he began to bang on the door, loudly shouting her name.
âTheo! Are you home?! Open up!â After receiving no answer, he stepped back and kicked the door as hard as he could, right at the door knob. It took two kicks before the door opened and he stepped inside. He called for her again, fearing the absolute worst as he looked around. âTheo?!â
