Role

Chapter 5

He turned to find a shadowy spectre, reaching out slowly in a vain attempt of
comfort. After a moment of silence it whispered again 'I can help you.... She
still lives, but only for fleeting moments... I can... place her spirit into
this lantern, and as long as it is alit, she was survive.'

As Daerys stood in the graveyard, the weight of the spectre's proposition
heavy upon his heart, he watched the shadowy figure extend a hand towards
him, an eerie gesture of consolation in the midst of despair. The spectre's
voice, a mere whisper in the chilling air, offered a sliver of hope, yet it
was a hope entwined with darkness. The idea of trapping his sister's spirit
within a lantern was both macabre and miraculous, a solution that defied the
natural order of life and death.

"How can she survive in a lantern, spectre?" Daerys asked, his voice a mix of
incredulity and desperation. The notion was unfathomable, yet the flicker of
life within Talia, however diminished, compelled him to grasp at any
possibility.

"Her body is dying... I cannot help that... but we can preserve her essence
until we find another way to help her. But be wary, there is a price," the
spectre intoned, its voice carrying the weight of untold ages and the sorrow
of countless souls.

"Then do it, spectre, please! I'll do anything!" Daerys's plea was raw, the
prospect of losing Talia a fate he could not accept.

The spectre nodded, and in that moment, Talia's body turned gaunt and gray,
her vitality ebbing away. Simultaneously, a lantern perched upon a nearby
headstone flickered to life, its flame dancing with an otherworldly glow.
"Take it. She is there now... but understand this: only life can sustain
life. For her to survive, you must take life from others. If you fail, she
will perish with the flame."

The enormity of the spectre's condition settled upon Daerys like a shroud. To
bind his sister's spirit to the lantern was one thing, to sustain her with
the lives of others was a burden of a wholly different nature. He remained
stunned, the implications of his choice unraveling before him in a tapestry
of moral quandaries.

"She is as before, your responsibility. I will return, in time," the spectre
intoned, its form beginning to fade from view, leaving Daerys alone with the
lantern, the sole tether to his sister's existence.

Turning to the lantern, Daerys saw Talia's face within the flames, her
expression serene yet distant, as if she dwelled in a realm beyond his reach.
"I... I'm so sorry, sister. I'll make it right... no matter what I have to
do."

With the spectre's departure, Daerys felt a change within himself, a dark
awakening. The path of necromancy, once a mere fascination, now beckoned as a
necessity. The arts of the dead, forbidden and feared, held the key to
sustaining the lantern's flame, to keeping Talia's spirit alive. He accepted
the spectre's condition, the price of his sister's life bound to the essence