Sarai Willowtail fell. Through the stars she had claimed, the moons, the suns. Shadows she had tamed. Every celestial body as she fell down, down, down.
The necromancer knew an astounding amount on the subject of death. How to cause it. How to steal it. Make it hers. How to accept it. She wondered if she could find a way to stay alive-- that's how it'd always been. Just staying alive. How could she live after all this?
The Shadow Queen had disappeared out of her sight. She was dead. But Sarai was not. How could that be? She had planned to die with the queen, yet had not.
Sarai couldn't keep tears out of her eyes. Her beloved pet leopard Princess Roxie had gone. Fiona Heart was gone, Tristan Thundergrove was gone, Cameron Silversmith and Kyle Mythstone and Lenora Spiritblossom were all gone. Dyvim, Zaltanna, Sophia. Headmaster Ambrose, Gamma, Dworgyn. Even Cryus.
Sarai was as good as dead to all of them. They would think her heroic. They could never know what happened to her, only that she had stopped Morganthe before she destroyed anyone else.
"Great Bartleby, I can no longer live. Death has claimed me!" Sarai whispered.
She sobbed. She gasped and began to wail. No one was around to hear her, anyway. Her red hair whipped around her head, black space darkening her gold eyes.
Her lungs hurt. She felt dizzy, as if she might pass out.
Sarai woke up.
She thought she was dead.
But the sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch were real.
She was not dead.
Necromancers were unalive, after all.
She was in a dank cavern. The air was filled with musty green fog. Green and purple pillows littered the floor.
"You have an unusual magic smell upon you," a woman's voice prodded. It was low and sickly sweet.
Sarai's head whipped around.
The lady stepped forward. She had thick, long black hair and was dressed in a purple skirt and puffy white shirt. Gold bracelets and necklaces adorned her. A crystal ball rested in her hands. "I am Madame Vadima."
"Where am I?" Sarai asked. She checked her body slowly. There was no blood on her or aches in her. "How am I--"
"Patience, child. I will tell you everything you need to know. What's your name?"
"S-Sarai Willowtail," the redhead mumbled uncertainly.
Vadima grinned. It looked like a mix between a snarl and smirk. "What magic have you learned?"
"I'm a Necromancer foremost, Theurgist on the side. On my journeys I picked up astral magics and shadow magic."
Vadima cackled, low and menacing. "Shadow? You would fit in well here."
"Where exactly is here?"
"I predicted your coming. I told Avery to listen to me. Here is where you need to be, and this is here. You fell into Skull Island, my dear. But your name is not Willowtail anymore. It is Quincy."
"Sarai Quincy?" Sarai asked. "Please just tell me what's going on."
"All in due time, child. First you must rest, and then we shall begin your studies as a witchdoctor. You are the one destined to see gold."
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