Page 63 of Marked By His Hunger

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That whatever had just noticed me?

It wasn’t done with me yet.

Chapter 7-Serena

For the first time in my life—the dead weren’t what frightened me.

It was whatever had just taken notice.

And the storm outside had only begun.

The words left my mouth again, unbidden and unwanted.

“I mean, I guess this is normal here, right? I mean, I see dead people, so big deal?”

“What did your admissions letter say?” Ursula asked quietly.

“Um, it said I was a Necromancer.”

For a second, nothing happened.

And then everything did.

The air shifted.

Not metaphorically.

Physically.

Every ghost in Buckie’s snapped into sharper focus like someone had adjusted the resolution of the room.

The blurry ones clarified.

The half-formed ones solidified.

A child near the hearth, previously little more than a suggestion of pale mist, now had eyes.

They were all looking at me.

Because I acknowledged it.

Because upon my arrival someone had told me recognition is power in Asgarheim.

I should’ve known that instinctively.

After all, spirits feed on attention.

But they also respond to ownership.

For years I had hidden my powers.

I’d denied them.

Pretended the dead were nightmares, stress hallucinations, grief echoes.

But saying it out loud?

That was a summoning in itself.

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