Never before had a sleet storm been more fortuitous. It was all that had come between the innocent refugees and a painful death by fire. Thesis' rash attack and the ensuing carnage had been tragic enough, but at least those who died had been able to defend themselves.
Bodush perched on top of a wall looking down at Wer's preparations for his reincarnation spell. At least something good might come out of this, the people mangled by the derro would now be made whole, well, after a fashion. Bodush felt a tinge of awe as he carefully studied Wer's display of true power over life and death. His own ways of bringing the dead back to life seemed so false and hollow in comparison, a mockery of what he saw now.
Standing next to Wer, he saw the masked Princess. He shuddered to think of what the visions the phantasmal killer had conjured up to drive Princess Lyseu insane with fear. Considering what she had endured already in her life, the illusion must have been terrible beyond imagining. Bodush was grateful she had withstood its effects. Still, it was almost to be expected. She had risen above an existence Bodush had thought not worth living in, and transcended her pain and anguish to become more than she was before. She too had reclaimed a life from fate.
Bodush considered his own powers. What was the point in bringing back the dead, if all they would become were shambling collections of rotting flesh? It was no different from Pandit Freud's atrocities.
Bodush sighed, there had to be a better way. Perhaps the mind-tricks he had learned when studying the phantasmal killer spell could have other applications.
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