Again, to mend

"You can use souls to mend your wounds, it can help you fix an organ even… if you know how to do it right." Driola explained, but mumbled a bit along the way, because her whole face felt tired.

"You probably noticed, but I can't use souls at all, not even in the wrong way." Bardeelus admitted.

There was no point in keeping secrets anymore, because in a weird way, they ended up as friends and had to cooperate now. Bardeelus would be painfully honest nonetheless, but at least now, a base for conversation had been set.

"You gotta know the spell for it, and you gotta have thick-skin to make it happen. Even captured souls won't listen to you, if you're as submissive as a boar in heat." She added.

That perspective was exaggerated, surely, but she wasn't in a state to filter her words out. She seemed tired, and Bardeelus didn't put pressure on her for the same reason, he didn't argue.

Instead, he asked. "What's the spell called?"

The conversation expanded well after that point, and Driola emphasized one thing, several times; No two cults were the same! What was a soul summoning spell in her cult, could mean nothing in another cult.

Necromancers were weird, diverse, but yet secluded. They were mysterious enough on their own, but things would get especially confusing, when a 'demon master' was included in the picture, like in Driola's cult.

In other words, it was difficult to find one universal spell, in this sea of edgy and typically dark mages! They weren't shackled to any rules, and often got pretty creative with their spells.

Driola was tired, but she didn't shy away from expressing both some history and theories. For a young woman, her knowledge was inspiring, even, pretty expansive! However, after twenty or so minutes, when she felt how her wrist burned in pain, she was forced to get back to her first train of thoughts.

She explained, "We used a simple spell to summon shit. Our spells are easier to remember, and you don't even have to yell them out if you're angry enough."

Afterwards, she added. "Our soul summoning spell is called, 'I summon thee, humiliated soul. Bend thy will for me, and do my bidding!'... See? Easy to remember."

Bardeelus feared the worst for a second, that spell didn't sound short and simple. He frantically looked around to see if Driola actually summoned a soul, but thankfully, there were none of those around.

"Don't be scared. I gave my powers away, or everything related to the 'sacrificed veins' cult, at least… gave my souls away too. Now I have to 'work' to be a good necromancer, like some idiot." She sighed deeply.

"You're still a necromancer?" The whole group asked all together.

"Yes. I dumped out all the powers which that demon lord gave me. Still, I was born as an actual necromancer, and it's not possible to give that away. Everything I do is gonna be based on merit and skill… that has to be really boring." She pouted.

At that point, Bardeelus understood how harmless this lady actually was. She didn't seem like a scary necromancer anymore, or the person who sent a giant boa's skeleton after them, no. She sounded more like a child who lost her toys, except she was twenty-three years old, and had a history of cold-blooded killing; Nevertheless, she was harmless now.

She was inattentive too, so he had to remind. "Okay then, let me try and help you."

"Oh right, use that deer's soul. You gotta call for the deer too, when you cast this spell." She guided.

This perhaps was the best time to try something new. They were alone out here, with no threats in the close perimeter, so he had to try this spell out.

He stood up, and started yelling. "I summon thee, humiliated deer. Bend thy will for me, and do my bidding!"

In a normal situation he wouldn't remember such a long spell, but this one felt right. A cloud of dark mist suddenly surrounded his palms, and it stretched all the way to his elbows. He felt powerful!

A couple of seconds later, as this mist diminished from his palms, a deer-shaped figure appeared. It walked towards them peacefully, and the soul itself had a green, and radiant color which was truly unexpected. 

That aside, considering its overall composure, this soul didn't seem humiliated whatsoever. It seemed as free as a soul could be!

"It didn't revert," Driola gasped deeply, "You captured a pure, innocent soul."

Bardeelus felt guilty about that, but in the meantime, Driola was muttering everything over, rather than feeling any hint of guilt or mercy. Even she was confused about this 'innocent soul'. Regardless of how many ancient scrolls she read regarding necromancy, this did not add up.

Eventually, she expressed. "Guess that's why you're called a 'pure necromancer'. Other necromancers, even those who don't worship demons, always convert a captured soul."

"It's dead, and enslaved. So what's your point?" Bardeelus asked, as he continued feeling sour.

"It's dead, but not enslaved. This soul appeared in its pure form, and once you ask it to do anything sacrificial, you'll help it pass over to heaven or whatever." She said.

To make Bardeelus feel better, she also added. "This is very nice. You wouldn't believe what my cult did to captured souls, pure torture, and most captured souls never even pass on to heaven or hell. They were stuck here, in our world, and were just passed around from necromancer to necromancer… that's evil, whatever you're doing, isn't." 

Driola's attempt to make this event sound holy was sweet, but he still remembered one thing; He was the one who killed the deer. He kept thinking about this over and over.

Worse yet, the deer's carcass was still near the campfire, and it was as chopped down as one would imagine. At some point, the deer's soul met with its severed head, and that was when Bardeelus decided that this was enough! It was brutal to punish an innocent soul, even slightly!

With a tone which was tired because of all of these feelings, he said. "Do my bidding, deer. Heal my friend, and then pass on."

This glorious, green soul was more than cooperative. It walked towards Driola elegantly, and once it got close to her, the deer dissipated into nothingness within seconds. It only left a refreshing and weedy aroma behind, which pierced the roof of their noses and spun in there for a while.

Driola untied the cloth from her wound afterwards, and saw how the slit spot on her wrist quickly sealed itself together. Only dry blood remained, and she could lick that part clean if it bothered her. The point being, she was healed entirely, and her back felt a bit better too, which wasn't even related to the recent wound.

"Now that's pure," She heaved out a breath of relief. "My spells were never this strong!"

After about a minute, they could see a puffy, green mist smoking its way out of Driola's head. This mist headed towards the sky, which confirmed her previous theory.

"See? Straight to heaven. As for me, I'm avoiding hell for another day, hopefully forever. You know the saying… 'You only live once, unless you're a smart necromancer', hehe." She joked.