Eclipsed Necromancer: I'm a guy looking for power

The walk back from the graveyard felt heavier than before.

Niko had always believed in the unseen. He had always sensed things beyond normal perception. But now, he had proof—not just whispers, not just feelings, but real spirits, aware of their own existence.

And they had noticed him.

The realization settled deep in his bones like cold iron. He had touched the veil between worlds, but what did that truly mean? Would spirits see him as a guide? A threat? A tool to be used?

One thing was certain this was just the beginning.

The voices of the dead were now part of his reality.

And soon, he would have to decide what to do with them.

When Niko returned to the village, the sky had darkened, heavy with the weight of an incoming storm. The air was thick with moisture, carrying the scent of rain mixed with the smoke from hearth fires.

He moved quickly through the streets of Varthas, feeling watched.

It wasn't paranoia. It was certainty.

His return did not go unnoticed.

Mirra, the herbalist, fell silent as he passed, her conversation with a customer abruptly stopping. Eldrin, the blacksmith, nearly dropped his hammer when his eyes landed on him.

They were subtle things—glances, pauses, the way people tensed slightly—but Niko could feel them.

The whispers followed him.

"Are you sure it was him?"

"The air feels different. Can you sense it?"

"Something is going to happen tonight."

Niko clenched his fists and walked faster.

It wasn't just the spirits that had felt the change.

The village had, too.

And that was dangerous.

When he stepped inside his home, his father was waiting.

The fire cast long shadows across the walls, flickering in the quiet.

His father didn't speak right away. He simply stared at the flames, as if searching for the right words.

Then, in a low voice, he said:

"You went to the graveyard."

It wasn't a question.

Niko hesitated but nodded. There was no point in lying.

His father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "What did you see?"

"Echoes."

His father's jaw tightened. "And did you speak to them?"

Niko bit the inside of his cheek. Then, quietly: "Yes."

Silence.

The fire crackled in the heavy air.

Then, suddenly, his father laughed.

A short, bitter sound.

"So it's true." He shook his head. "I was afraid of this."

Niko tensed. "Afraid of what?"

His father ran a hand through his graying hair, his expression both tense and thoughtful. "You think the dead speak to you because of that book?"

He exhaled sharply.

"That tome may have awakened something… but it didn't create it."

A chill crawled up Niko's spine.

"Then what did?"

His father met his gaze, and for the first time, Niko saw something deeper than fear in his eyes.

"You did."

The words hit like a hammer.

"You've always been different,"

His father continued.

"Even as a child, you saw things others didn't. Felt things they couldn't. I told myself it was just imagination, that you'd grow out of it. But deep down, I knew."

Niko's fists clenched.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His father sighed.

"Because knowing wouldn't have changed anything. And because… I hoped it would never come to this."

The mark on Niko's chest burned.

This wasn't just about the book.

This had always been his fate.

The Night of the Storm

That night, the storm raged, rain hammering against the roof as the wind howled through the village streets.

Niko sat alone in his room, the book open before him.

The words shifted once more.

Skill Progression: Whisper of the Forgotten → Echo Binding:

[Maintains the effects of previous skills and now you can now anchor spectral echoes, allowing for deeper interaction.

Bound echoes retain fragments of their past selves.

Caution: Some spirits may resist binding.]

His pulse quickened.

Binding.

Not just listening. Holding. Stabilizing.

It wasn't true resurrection… but it was close.

And if he could keep an echo from fading, if he could make it last…

What else could he do?

He focused, activating the skill.

The air in his room shifted, turning icy. The shadows stretched, and the boundary between life and death thinned.

Then, a presence.

The same one from the graveyard.

"You again..."

The voice was clearer this time, more defined.

The shape materialized, still indistinct, still wavering—but more real.

Niko exhaled. "I called you back."

This time, the spirit did not flicker or fade.

It stood.

The unstable haze of mist and smoke solidified just slightly, enough for Niko to make out features—not yet fully formed, but no longer just an empty shape. The presence within the echo had become sharper, more self-aware.

Its voice carried more than just words now.

It carried intent.

"You pulled me back... Why?"

Niko's breath was slow, measured.

"I needed to know if I could."

The spirit studied him not with eyes, but with something deeper.

"You shouldn't have."

Blood pounded in Niko's ears.

If he could hold an echo, if he could keep it from slipping away…

What else was possible?

That night, he didn't just experiment.

He began to understand.

And that was more terrifying than anything else.