Misplaced Souls

Six years, three months, and two days ago, I was kidnapped by a black witch. Then forced to bear witness as she slaughtered witches and sorcerers across Europe, siphoning their magic and corrupting what she could of my own power in order to raise vanquished demons.

Five years, ten months, and twenty days ago, the dowser — Jade Godfrey — backed by a vampire, a werewolf, and a dragon, rescued me in London, England. A lethal quartet, who routinely flung themselves before death in order to save the world. Including me.

One year, nine months, and twenty-eight days ago, I untangled the power that fueled a dimensional portal used by an invading army of elves, helping to thwart a dark destiny while confirming that I wielded far more than basic necromancy.

After all I'd been through, the same powerful Adepts who had rescued me and worked alongside me waited, watching minute by minute. To see if the evil I'd endured was contagious. Because for a witch to go dark was one thing. But for a necromancer, going dark was something far more terrifying.

What with the potential for raising an army of the undead and all.

Six years, three months, two days, and five minutes …

Still not dark yet.