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“I can let you go, if you so wish. But, if you are not tired of living, I can invite you back into the body you once called home. It will be… different. All you need to do is tell me.”

The words Nezael should have asked Yorick, but by the time he even knew what was going on, Yorick had already been carved open. Still, Nezael wished he’d asked, even if he wasn’t sure Yorick would have said no. Not the way his soul had wrapped around him like the lover he’d been as Nezael rested beside his skeleton. Not how quickly his soul came when all the magic set itself against the bones. Yorick had risen so easily, saying no had never crossed the man’s mind.

Even if he now regretted it.

This soul, the one Nezael should have been focusing on, was shy and soft. He hadn’t left his body. The softest touch trailed up Nezael’s arm and a breath ghosted against his ear.

“My name is Cassius,” the voice whispered and Nezael repeated the name to himself. “And I am not yet through with this world.”

“Then I shall begin,” Nezael murmured. “And… I’m sorry.”

By himself with none of Carrow’s guidance or even a skeleton to help, the process took so long with many back-and-forths between the plinth and the spell book he’d gone to gather from the library. In that time, the storm passed, leaving an afternoon sun making the room glow as Nezael worked. The skin came off easily now. The heart went down better, its blood bright red against Nezael’s fingers. Against Cassius’ pale freckled skin. On and on the ritual went until the organs were harvested, the waste magically folded into the tower to augment what little remained of the wards, and Nezael finally mixed his blood with Cassius’ for the life blossom heart.

Cassius’ skeleton was much slighter than Yorick’s was. Not the hulking bodyguard Yorick had become, then. Cassius would be something else entirely. Perhaps a spy to work quick through the night.

Nezael cleaned his hands and face with a basin of cold water he’d conjured into the room. He had no reason to look so feral if his lord was not there to see it. The water ran red in mere moments and Nezael left it be. Magic was continuing to coalesce around the skeleton, the gossamer shroud sealing it in as the soul touched what it had become. It could still fail. If Cassius rejected seeing his skeleton laid so bare, he would simply pass on and they’d have bones to use for something else.

Either way, Carrow would win.

The door opened. Air blew through the room, rustling the gossamer shroud. Nezael whipped around to look, expecting Carrow’s intrusion, but it was Yorick.

Relief washed through Nezael first; Yorick hadn’t up and left. But then devastation followed; he’d given Yorick the only out he could give him and yet the man stayed to be tortured day in and day out in a life he did not want in the least. Nezael’s eyes burned with tears as Yorick came up to him silently.

“Yorick—”

“Nezael,” Yorick murmured his name so softly, Nezael hesitated. He had his hands clasped together and after a moment longer, he held out a small flower from within. Yellow, it was bright and vibrant in the room growing cold and dim. “Do not apologize. I am being difficult with you the more time moves on.”

Nezael took the flower and realized what it was from. A blossom of the vistarium herbs he’d gone searching for what felt like years ago and only to find Yorick instead.

“I should tell you my plans, all of them,” Nezael whispered. “I want no secrets between us.”

“And I know you will share them.” Yorick cupped Nezael’s face and tilted him to look up. At eye sockets once holding his blue eyes. At a handsome face still handsome even as a skull with no skin or smile to speak of. “I want to stay with you, Nezael. You are right. I did choose. And I think, even if asked to choose again, I would choose the same. I willingly gave you my heart, after all. We will make this work.” His voice drew quieter. “Not like before, but I meant what I said.”

Nezael touched Yorick’s hand against his face. It felt warm, somehow like it had before during sleepy days in Yorick’s cabin.

“I am yours, forevermore.” Yorick bent lower and Nezael felt lips kiss his own. Magic had listened to his plea and fashioned itself into something tangible. All to remind him of what he’d lost. It would go no further than a soft kiss. The memory would fade, continue to do so as the days wore on, and the magic would cease trying.

“I love you, Yorick,” Nezael whispered it so quietly, afraid Carrow would hear otherwise. He kissed Yorick’s jaw, and forced the magic to part so all he felt was the skull against his lips. This was his Yorick now and he’d love him the same.

With a nod, Yorick withdrew, but he said no more as he walked out, leaving Nezael with the golden flower.

Nezael faced Cassius. The magic around him felt indignant now and Nezael chuckled. “I am sorry to have ignored you so, my dear Cassius. But what of you getting jealous? You hardly even know me.” He gently laid himself beside the skeleton as he’d done to Yorick upon the same plinth. He tucked the yellow blossom into Cassius’ ribcage, hoping to keep it safe within Cassius’ new heart. “Perhaps you and I could be friends?”

Because no matter what Cassius wanted, Nezael had already given his heart away. Even Carrow would come to understand that one day. To be Lord Carrow’s apprentice—his necromancer—Nezael preferred to be heartless anyway. It made it all easier.

Although, maybe one day, he’d find his heart whole again with the man he’d given it to.

About the Author

S. Jean (she/they) is a queer sci-fi & fantasy author writing whatever strikes their fancy at any given moment. When not writing or dreaming of what to write, they can be found dabbling in game dev and drawing!

For more information,

visit: https://sjean.carrd.co/