Mara, the Lady of the Dead

In the land of Ocitta, everyone knows that the dead do not rest easy. From old wives' tales and children’s bedtime stories to sketchy first-hand accounts and scholarly discussions, the land was full of stories of animated skeletons, shambling corpses and the dark forces that commanded them. 

Although many of these stories have become embellished or exaggerated over the years, they often have a basis in truth. This is one of those stories - the story of Mara, the Lady of the Dead. 

Mara was a young woman of wealth and fortune from the town of Axiou. She had grown up with her father, a powerful noble who demanded the respect and admiration of his peers and who cared for his daughter deeply. Mara spent most of her time in her father’s mansion, being tutored in a variety of subjects and living a life of comfortable isolation. She had never known hardship or suffering, until her father took ill, and passed. 

Some say he had been poisoned by one of his many rivals. Others claim he had been suffering from a mysterious illness for years. The cause did not matter to Mara. All that mattered was that she was alone and vulnerable, for the first time in her life. 

The noble’s rivals moved quickly after his death, seizing his lands and wealth. Mara barely had time to come to terms with her father’s passing before being left with nothing. Even her ancestral home was due to be taken from her after the funeral. 

Despite his best intentions, Mara’s father had ill-prepared her for life without him. Alone and desperately missing her father’s reassurance and protection, Mara fell into a deep depression. 

The household servants quickly abandoned their duties. The last to leave is reported to have told a tavern full of people that Mara hadn’t changed her clothes or bathed since her father passed, and that she was refusing to let anyone bury him. That his body was still laid atop the altar and that she cried herself to sleep at his feet each night. 

Many who heard the story felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. It wasn’t fair what was happening to her. Not that many of those were in any hurry to do anything to aid the poor girl, of course. However, this is where the story took a dark turn. 

Scared and alone, the young, naive woman panicked and, in desperation, resorted to necromancy in an attempt to bring her father back. She had learnt about the dark magic in her tutoring sessions and was well aware of its forbidden nature, but what choice did she have? If only she could bring him back, everything would be alright. Those rats would go scurrying back if her father stood strong and proud again, as she remembered. 

That night, Mara crept into her father’s great library. The house was cold and dark. The life that filled it was gone. Replaced by a growing evil. Mara was searching for a very particular book, kept in a section of the library she had never been allowed to enter while her father had been alive. 

Mara approached the door, which seemed to loom above her with malevolence. She withdrew the key from her pocket. The moonlight reflected off the tarnished silver and briefly illuminated Mara’s face in a way that would have caused her to scream in fear if she had seen it. Hollow cheeks, filth covered hair, red sunken eyes. The young beauty was gone. 

The key clicked in the lock and the door groaned as Mara pulled it open. A sudden gust of air whipped Mara’s hair back as the door swung open far easier than she had assumed. As if she was being helped. Mara reached out and waved the cobwebs from the passage and raised her candelabra to illuminate the way. The passage was dark and foreboding.

It didn’t take the young woman long to find the ancient tome she was looking for. It sat on an intricately carved stone plinth in the middle of the room. The book oozed malevolence, thrilling Mara as the feeling washed over her. She greedily reached out for the book. A charge jumped up her fingers and ran through her body, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end. After blowing the dust off the cover she opened the book. As the pages fell open she felt a shiver run down her spine and she quickly looked over her shoulder, convinced someone was watching her. 

Mara held the evil text over her father’s corpse, still covered in a death shroud with coins over his eyes. She uttered the forbidden words within. Quietly at first, but Mara’s voice gained volume as her confidence grew. She could feel the power surging within her until she was screaming the arcane words.

The windows blew open and a gust of wind whipped the shroud off her father and blew paper and cloth around the room as Mara reached the zenith. Mara’s hair blew around her chaotically. Her eyes widened and a sickly smile spread across her face. 

As Mara uttered the last syllable, everything fell still. An eerie quiet filled the room. Cold sweat ran down Mara’s back as she panted for breath. She took a hesitant step towards her father’s body.

“Father,” she called out. “Father it’s me, it’s Mara. Are you there?”

She received no response and her heart sank. She slumped down next to the makeshift altar and began to sob. 

Mara wasn’t aware of how long she had been there, crumpled in a ball and crying quietly, before she noticed a sound coming from the open window. It was a sound everyone in town would recognise. It was the ringing of the bell that called the town watch to arms. 

Mara pulled herself up and slowly walked to the window, her body feeling drained from her attempt at casting dark magic. As she looked out over the town she could see groups of people running desperately through the streets. The town’s men-at-arms were hastily donning their armour and weapons and rushing towards the cemetery. 

As she took in the bustling activity below, Mara hadn’t noticed the movement coming from behind her. The sound of shuffling footsteps caught her attention and she quickly turned to find her father standing before her. But this wasn’t the caring and powerful man that she remembered from her childhood, but a lifeless corpse, animated by necromantic energy.

Instead of standing tall, his body was hunched and twisted. Mara felt sick as she noticed his skin sagging from his face. The coins covering his eyes fell to the floor, breaking Mara out of her trance. 

“Father, it’s Mara. I brought you back, I need you,” she said while stepping towards him, her arm outstretched. 

But the corpse did not respond, it just continued to shuffle towards her. 

“Stop, please stop.” Mara began to sob again. She turned from the animated corpse of her father and looked out the window. In the moonlight, she could see people running down the streets. The bell still rang and she heard a scream. 

“You, you have to listen to me. That’s what the book said. I should be able to control you.”

But her father didn’t heed her commands. Mara had underestimated the complexity of the arcane language the spell required, a mistake that prevented her from controlling the newly risen corpse. 

The corpse of her father lunged for her. Mara screamed and grabbed a large, ornate candelabra from her father’s desk and lashed out. A rigid and pale hand reached for her as she turned to run from the room. Her skirt ripped in the grasping hands as the corpse continued to lurch after her. 

Mara sprinted through the halls of her father’s great house, the only home she had ever known, with tears streaming from her eyes and the sound of shuffling feet echoing from behind her. Mara threw open the front door and hurried outside, before slamming the door shut behind her and wiping the tears from her eyes. 

Any respite that she felt evaporated quickly as she took in the horrifying scene unfolding before her. The town’s men-at-arms were desperately trying to fend off a horde of shambling corpses as the townsfolk panicked and fled. Mara realised her spell had affected more than just her father. Hordes of the undead were pouring from the town’s cemetery and the nobles’ mausoleums and falling on the townsfolk in brutal attacks. 

Mara’s head turned as a terrified yell cut through the chaos as one of the noblemen who had stripped away her family lands spilt out into the street, a pack of reanimated dead at his heels. The noblemen fell to the cobblestone floor and raised a hand to ward off the corpses that fell on him with rotting teeth and decayed claws. Mara watched, entranced, as they tore into the noblemen, ripping away his expensive clothes before tearing flesh, all while he screamed in terror. 

A twisted smile spread across Mara’s face at the sight. Part of her was horrified at the wanton destruction. But there was also a sick sense of pleasure as she watched those who had made her suffer so fall to the dead she had risen. And beyond that, a sense of power. Her first taste of real power. She wanted more. 

Something slammed against the door, causing Mara to yelp in shock. The fear returned. If she was going to feel powerful again she would have to escape and learn to control the dead. The door bulged in its frame again and Mara took off towards the town’s gate. 

She ran desperately through the streets, avoiding the shambling dead and the terrified townsfolk who were either attempting to flee or fight. She stumbled over the fallen who had been violently ripped apart, like the nobleman, and pushed through groups of people begging for help from the town’s men-at-arms. Mara ignored it all. She had one goal, get out of the town before she ended up a victim of her own dark magic. 

The town’s main gate stood open, with a group of armoured soldiers waving the townsfolk through while holding back the shambling dead. Mara darted for an opening in the crowd, pushing aside an old woman who was shuffling towards the gate. Mara turned back and recognised the face of one of the servants who had abandoned her. A scowl came over Mara’s face and she continued towards the gate. 

She forced her way through the mass of people just as a scream rose from the crowd as the dead broke through the thin line of soldiers and fell on the townsfolk. Mara passed under the raised portcullis and ran out into the night. Instinct was driving her and she began to sprint towards a large hill on the edge of the woods. Mara ran like she had never run before, being chased by the cries and screams coming from the other side of the wall. 

As Mara crested the hill overlooking the town she collapsed, panting, with tears still streaming from her eyes. Now she was even more alone than she had been before. She could still hear the screams of the townsfolk as they battled the risen dead. Mara tried to repress the feeling of glee that rose within her as she sat there listening to the sounds of chaos spilling out from the town, but she couldn’t. 

Mara stood tall, arms held by her sides, fists clenched as she revelled in the torment she had bestowed upon those who had wronged her and her father. The greedy noblemen who had robbed her. The cruel servants who had abandoned her. And the townsfolk who had ignored her plight. They would all suffer. 

As Mara stood there in the moonlight a woman approached her from behind. A pale hand reached out and gently took hold of Mara’s shoulder. Rather than be alarmed, Mara relaxed into the embrace, beguiled as the creature leant forward and brought her ruby lips to Mara’s ear. 

“You have done well my child,” she purred. “Very well.” Mara relished in the approval she craved. A smile spread across Mara’s face as the creature started to stroke her hair. “I will help you to develop your powers, my dear.” Mara could feel any remaining inhibitions draining out of her with each pass of the creature's cold hand through her hair. “I will help you become my new Lady of the Dead.” Mara could feel that feeling of dark power build inside of herself again. “But you will have to do exactly as I say,” the creature said with a seductive chuckle. 

Mara turned to face the creature, her breath catching in her throat. She stood taller than Mara, with beautiful flowing black hair that contrasted so intensely with her pale complexion. Brilliantly piercing emerald eyes locked with Mara’s own and she felt the last of her will evaporate. The creature's plush red lips parted in a smile, revealing a pair of fangs. 

“Of course, my Lady,” Mara said while curtseying. 

“Good,” the creature said and chuckled warmly, in contrast with her cold appearance. “Come, my child,” she said as she reached out and took Mara’s hand. “Let’s go retrieve your book.” The creature led Mara back towards town.  

Mara smiled to herself. She would get to see her father again after all.