Eilyn’s eyes filled with tears as Clement stood on the palace stairs, dismissing their plight.
“There, there,” her father put his arm around her. “It will all be over soon. Then we can finally see your mother and brother in the abyss.”
“Something is not right,” Eilyn shook her head. The same awful feeling that crept up on her the night their fate was sealed, swept over her again.
Looking back it was so clear that the necromancers were up to no good. Thick, gloomy clouds hung over the estate and the fruit in the orchard spoiled on the vine. Strange shadows hulked over the smoke from the necromancers’ brazier. Her mother stopped producing milk for her brother and the boy cried incessantly.
All these things and more were clear to Eilyn, but in those days, no one took the worries of a sixteen year old seriously.
“Come, daughter,” her father sighed and turned away from the door. “Let it not be said that we shied away from our doom like cowards.”
“Please listen to me this time, father,” she begged. “There will be no reunion. The necromancers have trapped us here for another purpose.”
“And what would you know of this?” her father gave her a hard look. Eilyn wiped her eyes and returned his gaze.
“I’ve had centuries to study the books in our library,” she said. A flicker of fear danced in her father’s eyes.
“Clement!” she shouted as she sprinted down the stairs and grabbed his collar. “If you will not help us, then you will die with us!”