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Twice Risen

Twice Risen

Back from the Dead... Again

I blink away the fog of death, finding myself face-to-face with a wide-eyed young man clutching a spellbook. "Um, welcome?" he squeaks.

I sigh. Here we go again.

"Thanks, I guess," I grumble, stretching my newly reanimated limbs. The familiar ache of resurrection settles into my bones. "Mind telling me what year it is?"

The novice necromancer gulps. "It's, uh, 2024?"

Great. Two millennia of history to catch up on. Again.

I glance around the dimly lit laboratory, taking in the strange contraptions and glowing runes. It's a far cry from the blood-soaked battlefields where I last drew breath.

"So," I drawl, eyeing the spellcaster, "you're my latest puppeteer, eh? What's your name, kid?"

"T-Trevor," he stammers, clutching his tome like a shield. "And I'm not a kid! I'm twenty-three!"

I can't help but snort. "When you've lived and died as I have, everyone's a kid."

Trevor's face falls, and I feel a twinge of... something. Guilt? Impossible. I'm a soulless revenant, after all.

"Look," I say, softening my tone, "I'm sure you had your reasons for dragging me back to the land of the living. Care to fill me in?"

The young necromancer's eyes light up, and he launches into a rapid-fire explanation of his magical studies, his desire to prove himself, and his fascination with ancient warriors like myself.

As Trevor rambles on, gesticulating wildly with his free hand, I notice a simmering cauldron behind him starting to bubble ominously. Before I can warn him, he turns with a flourish, knocking the bubbling concoction off its stand.

I watch in bemused horror as Trevor's dramatic gesture sends the cauldron flying. The sickly green liquid arcs through the air, splattering across my freshly reanimated form.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Trevor yelps, frantically waving his hands in what I assume is meant to be some sort of counterspell. Instead of neutralizing the potion, however, his panicked gestures only seem to amplify its effects.

I feel a tingling sensation across my scalp as my hair begins to glow an eye-searing shade of neon green. Simultaneously, the air fills with a cacophony of spectral coos and flapping wings. A flock of translucent pigeons materializes.

"I'm so sorry!" Trevor wails, ducking as a phantom bird dive-bombs his head.

I can't help it. Despite the absurdity of the situation, I burst out laughing. Here I am, a fearsome warrior brought back from the dead, surrounded by ectoplasmic poultry.

Trevor stares at me, his mortified expression slowly melting into a sheepish grin. "You're... not mad?"

I shake my head, still chuckling.

I reach for a nearby rag, intent on helping Trevor mop up the spilled potion. As I hand it to him, our fingers brush, and I feel a sudden jolt. It's like a spark of static electricity, but... warmer. More alive.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. Trevor's eyes widen, and I find myself caught in his gaze. There's something there, a flicker of... what? Curiosity? Attraction? Surely not. I'm a reanimated corpse, for crying out loud.

I clear my throat, breaking the spell. "Must be some leftover resurrection energy," I mutter, pulling my hand away perhaps a bit too quickly.

Trevor nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "R-right. Of course. That makes sense."

We set about cleaning up the mess in awkward silence, carefully avoiding eye contact. I tell myself it's nothing. Just a weird side effect of being brought back to life. Again.

But as we work, I can't help stealing glances at Trevor. The way his brow furrows in concentration. The delicate movements of his hands as he carefully disposes of the contaminated rags. The curve of his neck as he bends to scrub.

I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts. I'm an ancient warrior. I've seen empires rise and fall. I've led armies into battle. I will not be undone by some clumsy boy with kind eyes and a shy smile.

And yet...

As we finish cleaning, Trevor accidentally knocks over a jar of dried herbs. Without thinking, we both reach for it at the same time. Our hands collide, and there it is again. That spark. That warmth.

This time, neither of us pulls away immediately.

Magical Mishaps and Modern Marvels

Matters of Life, Death, and the Heart

Two thousand years dead. Twice resurrected. One unexpected connection.

Once a soldier in a necromancer's army, the ancient warrior now finds himself brought back to life by an inexperienced practitioner of dark magic. As the novice looks to him for guidance, an unlikely bond begins to form.

Navigating a world far removed from his own time, the resurrected soldier must reconcile his past experiences with his growing feelings for the earnest young necromancer who gave him new life. Together, they embark on a journey of self-discovery, magical learning, and unexpected tenderness.

In this minimalist tale of love transcending time and death, 'Twice Risen' explores the profound connections that can form in the most unlikely circumstances.