Everything happened fast. She felt herself weaken as the young boy Ascot changed the energy of the land itself. Most of her own undead fell immediately after, save for her hound and the dead-woman. Once the violence was over down the Corps immediately began to reorganize and redirect their efforts.

She commanded the dead-woman and her dog to assist in recovery efforts. They were assigned to gather bodies and identify as many as possible. This took up all of her time and much of her energy. 

Their teacher, the Samurai, was attentive and concerned for his teammates. He brought water, asked after them. Hibiscus accepted the offer of water, but spoke little. Thankfully he let her be as there were plenty more students to attend to. She watched the Samurai with a wary eye. Hibiscus did not yet feel she understood him. Not knowing his motives, she did not trust him. Perhaps ‘trust’ is an incorrect word. She did not feel she could predict him, and that could be dangerous.

She noticed Blueberry and his friend both pine over the Archer. They were young and passionate, entangled in a painful triangle of dissatisfaction. It was painful for Hibiscus to watch. The girl had nearly died in the battle, thankfully stronger magicians were her allies. [i]’So much for it being a safe training field.’[/i] She said to herself. The Corps suffered no casualties or prolonged injuries of any kind. The people of the city were not so fortunate. 

The necromancer did not go to the beach with the others. She kept to herself, with her hound and the dead-woman, whom she continued to question. Her name was Jin, she did not remember her family name, or what her occupation was. She liked fried fish and poetry. On the street Jin played fetch with the hound, Hibiscus tried to ‘jog her humanity’ but in vain. Too much had been lost, taken by the necromancer and the battle. It was a wonder the woman was still walking, the necromancer who revived her must have been very powerful. Even so, there was not much time left and Hibiscus had no need for Jin any longer. So, she allowed Jin to wander on her own. Most of the major roads had been cleared by the Corps and the survivors. Jin wound around the streets and the allies, aimlessly. Hibiscus followed closely, making sure that none interfered, the hound followed soon after making sure that none followed. 

Finally Jin turned into a building, it was half-dust now, but Jin found a stairwell and slowly lumbered up, dragging her twisted foot up each step. She entered a small room, the door had been torn off and the walls were scorched, yet there were small clues, remnants, that indicated this had been a home: A teapot on the table, now cracked; the daily paper, now scattered on the floor; family photos, faces obscured by dust; laundry folded and waiting to be put away, strangely undisturbed.

Jin slogged and moaned as she reached the back of the apartment and found a couch, it’s legs were broken so the couch sat lopsided, but Jin sat down upon it anyhow. She stared forward with her blank eyes at a hole in the wall across from her. Hibiscus wondered what had been there before, but could not ask Jin, she was too weak and tired. No, no more questions, Jin deserved to rest. 

With two fingers Hibiscus touched Jin’s eyelids, and forced them to close. “You may go.” The necromancer whispered and released Jin’s spirit from her control. Hibiscus felt the spirit leave and the body became truly lifeless, and Jin experienced [i]true death[/i] at last.

Hibiscus and her hound left immediately. She found her own bed to rest in, drained from the days work and the spirit passing. Her hound never closed his eyes as he kept watch beside her.

They traveled on to the next place. They were to plant trees.

The necromancer was totally out of her element. She had a small bag of seeds, from what she understood they were magicked to grow of their own accord. The task seemed easy, but still, she felt out of place. She watched the others use their power to churn up the earth, transporting sapplings here and there, arranging them in just the right way. She wandered about, unsure where to plant. The place was teeming with life-energy, the trees seemed to stare at her, as if they knew her perverse nature. She couldn’t blame them, her undead rose and ate the flesh of the living, contrary to nature's law. The dead should stay down, become one with the earth, then the trees digest them. The trees wanted to eat her. “That’s not fair, all magic is cheating a bit, isn’t it?” She told a large oak. 

“Still, I feel there is little good I can do here today.” She told her hound, touching the top of his head gingerly. This was a rare moment, a contrast to her typically brittle disposition.