Seven world wonders[END]

Lysander listened caredully as the woman spoke. He frowned lightly as this time what he was supposed to rely was a bit more complicated, and new to him as well.

This one's a bit harder. he said, repeating Kisha's words as he tried to give himself a bit more time to form his thoughts. underworld...or whatever it is where they were... Is a funny place. Dark and... she says it's better not to talk about it to the living, it would scare us to death. Plus... she doesn't really like to think about it herself. he frowned again, this time harder. And there...they were all musshed up together somehow. And then I opened a path. he titled his head to the left, listening as Magena decided to join in to the conversation, as she seemed to know more about his power.
Magena says that, as a necromancer, I have a natural...connection to the world of the dead, and it is so strong that, any time I add any actual energy to it, it opens up... a rift in space that allows others to pass as well. He hear Garrick growling in the background and stopped, expecting him to 'join' as well. However, the werewolf stayed sillent, and he had a weird feeling that it had something to do with Kisha.


And as for wheather was it volountary... They knew what the rift was, but they never expected to end up in my head. Magena says that it happened because I didn't know when to stop pulling... And in my defense, I didn't know I was pulling at all, so how was I to know I was supposed to stop?!'

Lysander opened his mouth to say something when he was stopped by a soft voice in his head, urging him to explain it better to the man before it gives him nightmares.

She says that's why she warned me not to talk to you about it. he relied, shifting a bit uncomfortably. She didn't want to scare either of us... But if we must know, she says, it really wasn't that bad of a place. It was just that it wasn't Life, and they all wanted something more than that. That's why they went through the rift when they had a chance. An onslaught of voices trying to complain about that statement, then, again, silence.

Lysander frowned a bit deeper. Honestly, from that, it just sounds like a place for people with regrets... And to that one even I can answer-it is very, very confusing.

And it was. Especially at first, when he was still bombarded by their memories, sometimes even unable to separate them from his own.

And as far as energy-mixing goes... I guess they are mixed to some degree, considering that technically, I should be able to tap into all of their powers. It's just that they don't let me.

Lysander blinked, confused, as he watched the man hurriedly make his way, presumably to class. For a moment, he panicked, thinking he should be somewhere else as well, until Magena reminded him that the the scar woman with the red glasses told him that his courses won't be starting until tomorrow... Or, rather, they have already started, but he didn't have to join them until tomorrow.

Sighing with relief, he tried thinking about what Mr. Cunningham had said. He never considered it before, simply because he knew nothing about the place they have come from, but even now, the very notion seemed ridiculous, the fact confirmed that everybody within his head was laughing. Some, like Kisha and Corrolis, kindly, with a soft shaking of their heads (or at least that was what he imagined them doing), and others (Garrick) with a bitter undertone to their voice.

Settle our regrets? the man scoffed. Someone like you? Never.

And this time, Lysander had to agree with him, no matter how much it pained him to do so. Not because he thought that he was weak, but because he realised that the regrets they had were connected to people and things that happened hundreds of years ago, almost two thousand in Garrick's case. How in the world could he help them?

No. he shook his head as Magena spoke inside his head at the same time. This was an accident caused by you not knowing-and before you start complaining, now I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying. You're just a Necromancer who got a spell wrong (and isn't that a cliche story?), not some kind of regret-settling hero. Maybe you should say that to your teacher when you see him tomorrow.

Lysander nodded his head. He would... If Lyre let him out of the bed in the morning, he thought, as there was yet another note ringing through his head.