Chapter 9 - Death Mana

Alina's breath came in short, ragged gasps as she stared at Thorne, her body rigid with fear. "Speed up the process? What does that even mean? I thought we were taking this slow!" Her voice cracked, frustration and anxiety bleeding through.

Thorne remained calm, watching Alina's distress unfold with a measured expression. "I know. That was the plan, but your body isn't adapting as well as I had hoped. If we wait too long, we risk losing more of your cognitive function."

Alina clenched her fists, stepping back. "And if we do this too soon, what happens then? What if I don't wake up? What if I wake up, but I'm just… another mindless servant for you to control?" Her voice rose with each word, panic creeping into her tone. "I don't want to die again, Thorne! And I definitely don't want to become—"

Her hand swept across the table beside her, knocking over a stack of vials and jars. Glass shattered against the stone floor, the sound sharp and jarring in the dimly lit room. She gasped, staring at the mess, then down at her trembling hands. The outburst had been unintentional, but the damage was done.

For a moment, silence filled the space between them. Then Alina slumped back against the wall, pressing her hands over her face as her shoulders shook. "I can't do this," she whispered. "It's too much. I don't know how to handle it."

Thorne sighed, stepping forward. "Alina. Look at me."

She didn't move at first, but eventually, she lowered her hands, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Thorne's expression softened. "I know you're scared. I won't pretend this is easy. But I swear to you, I will not let you become mindless. I have spent too long studying the preservation of the dead to let something like that happen to you."

Alina swallowed hard. "And if something goes wrong?"

"Then I fix it. Or we find another way. But I will not let you slip away. That's a promise."

Alina stared at her, searching for any sign of deception, but found none. She exhaled shakily, wiping at her eyes before giving a weak, almost self-deprecating laugh. "I probably look ridiculous, crying like this. I shouldn't even be able to cry."

Thorne smirked. "Yet here you are."

Alina let out another breath before her shoulders sagged. "...Tell me something. Anything. I just need to think about something else for a moment."

Thorne crossed her arms. "Alright. How about this? You've told me a little about your life before all of this, but not much about what you actually did before you died."

Alina frowned, thrown off by the sudden topic shift. "You want to know about my life before?"

"If it helps calm you down, yes."

Alina hesitated, then leaned back against the wall, her gaze distant. "Well… I was a mage-in-training. My family expected a lot from me. My mother especially. She was always strict about our traditions. Hair, blood, personal objects—everything had significance in magic. She was so meticulous about it all." She let out a breathy chuckle. "I used to think she was overbearing, but now… I guess I understand why she was so serious about it."

Thorne nodded. "And your father?"

Alina hesitated. "He wasn't as strict. He was more… practical. He wanted me to be strong, to understand the world beyond just magic. He taught me how to ride, how to fight. I think he wanted me to have options beyond just spellcraft." Her smile faltered. "I miss them. I don't even know if they ever learned what happened to me. If they knew I had died."

Thorne was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "I had a family once, too. Long ago."

Alina looked up, surprised. "You?"

Thorne smirked. "Hard to imagine, right? But yes. It was a lifetime ago. Before the war. Before… all of this." Her expression darkened slightly. "They didn't survive the war. I barely did."

Alina bit her lip, sensing the weight behind those words. "I'm sorry."

Thorne shook her head. "Don't be. Loss is inevitable. What matters is what we do afterward."

Alina let those words sink in before finally nodding. She didn't feel okay, but she felt a little more grounded. "Alright. I think I'm ready to hear what happens next."

Thorne gave a small nod. "Good. Listen carefully. The reason I didn't want to start the next procedure too soon is because the longer your body spends adjusting to death mana, the easier this will be."

Alina furrowed her brows. "Adjusting? What do you mean?"

Thorne turned and pulled a small potted plant from a nearby shelf. She plucked a single leaf from it and held it up. "Watch closely."

Alina did as instructed. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But after a few moments, she noticed something—wisps of a dark, faint energy rising from the severed edge of the leaf.

"Do you see it?" Thorne asked.

Alina nodded. "What is that?"

"Death mana." Thorne let the leaf drop to the floor. "It's produced naturally as anything decays. Typically, it disperses into the air, returning to the environment. But in some cases, it concentrates, lingering in places dense with death. That's how natural undead come into existence."

Alina's eyes widened slightly. "So then… my body is producing death mana?"

"Yes. And your tattoos act as a kind of artificial membrane. They stop the death mana you generate from leaking out, while also preventing any external death mana you absorb from escaping." Thorne crossed her arms. "This is important because your body is now entirely reliant on death mana to sustain itself. The more of it you retain, the better."

Alina frowned, thinking it over. "So… the longer I spend in this state, the more death mana I accumulate, and the easier my preservation will be?"

A small smirk tugged at Thorne's lips. "Exactly. You're sharper than you give yourself credit for."

Alina rolled her eyes. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Thorne leaned back slightly. "That being said, this is only one part of the process. You're still unstable, and we can't risk waiting too much longer. Your treatment is going to consist of many smaller solutions stacked together. I don't want to introduce anything overly complex yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know how your mind will react to magic." Thorne's expression grew serious. "If we alter too much at once, we risk damaging your sense of self. And I refuse to let that happen."

Alina swallowed, nodding slowly. "So, we take it step by step."

"Exactly. One layer at a time, until you're stable. Then we move forward from there."

Alina let Thorne's words settle before she spoke again. "Death mana affecting an area… I think I remember something from when I was little."

Thorne raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"My father was a priest," Alina said, her voice distant. "I remember a time when he had to purify a small river near our village. A few people had drowned there—some by accident, others… less fortunate. Afterward, he performed a purification ritual to make sure the dead wouldn't rise. He said that if too many people died in one place, the land itself would become cursed."

Thorne nodded, listening intently. "That's not too far from the truth. Death mana lingers in places where death is concentrated, but natural undead don't last very long. A few months at most before they rot away completely."

She folded her arms. "But this place… the undead here never seem to run out of death mana. It only started after my experiment and I arrived. Energy can't come from nowhere, which means something—or someone—is producing vast amounts of it."

Alina admired Thorne's determination, but a question gnawed at her. "If all of that is true… then why do I need anything else? If this land is full of death mana, shouldn't I already absorb enough of it?"

Thorne sighed. "Corpses aren't good conductors. Decomposing cells produce death mana, but they aren't efficient users of it, your blood can't transport it around as it could with oxygen and nutrients before even though death mana now serves that same role for you."

"You need more than just exposure. You need control."