A captive he met in a town, not too long ago,

memories buzz in and out as Hal became more and more

drowsy when the sunlight beamed upon his eyes, footsteps becoming

more heavy with the summoning of the dead he made, he felt weary, almost lifeless

when the incantations came back, spells he learned during the academy, his mind began to contort,

vision became dark and he found the blood stored in the bottle, he had always

kept it at his waist, for urgent uses, and this seemed urgent enough. Scream echoing from

the grave, he silenced them with a smirk, his power already budding,

an old woman stared at him and asked if he was all right, Hal drew a blade

and sliced her neck. More blood. Good. The spell was complete and Hal

looked 50 years younger, his smile now looked cute, his walk

bouncy, even his clothing had changed with the latest style.