100 Theme Challenge #57

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57.  Bones

"Some people cannot be saved. It's a fact of life, we await death since birth. One's bones are the center of its body, its foundation. The soul is attracted to it, hugs it as it allows the flesh to surround it. If the bones are reunited, the soul can be reattached to it, it has its mark carved on them. I have the ability to put back together soul and bones, but it does come with a heavy piece. Are you willing to pay it?"

"Anything to see once again our daughter, sir, anything," eagerly agreed the woman. Her husband and she were clutching each other in Victor's small shop, where mysterious instruments were exposed.

"All right, then it shall be twenty-five now, and the other half later."

The man nodded and pushed the gold on his desk. They waited, eyes gleaming with hope.

"Did you bring her bones?" Victor asked, preparing his tools.

"Of course. Here they are." They gave him a leather bag, which he accepted. He placed candles on the edges of the pentagram carved into the wooden table of his shop. Slowly, he took the bones out of the bag and placed them in the center. He took a chalice and a dagger and also brought them on the table. Without a flinch, he cut his palm, not deep yet enough to draw some blood drops into the cup. He began to mutter something unknown to the mourning couple. The air around them suddenly felt heavier, it was getting difficult to breathe. The man hugged his wife, but they kept watching the odd ritual of Victor the Necromancer.

The bones were moving, arranging themselves in the shape of a human skeleton. A blur, and pale, grey flesh erupted from them. Soon, a small girl sat in the middle of the room. Victor puffed, out of breath, and wrapped his vest around the frail shoulders.

"Oh, Elena," sobbed the woman as the couple hugged her. She looked lost, confused. "You're back with us now, our dear daughter."

"She looks pale. Is that normal?"

"Death tends to do that. It's normal." Victor shrugged. The man paid him and out they were, eager to return home with their daughter. Victor chuckled and placed the money in his vault.

They came back a week later with puffy eyes but anger crisping their fingers.

"You charlatan! You told us you could make her come back!"

"And I did." He caught the heavy bag they threw at him. He took a glimpse inside.

"Each day her body kept decaying, her limbs turning black until they would fall off. What kind of monster are you to make us suffer our daughter' death a second time?"

"You asked me to resurrect her, yet you never specified for how long. I deemed a week of her company whilst she was supposed to be dead was a fine trade."

The woman spat on the floor. "You should have warned us!"

Victor smirked. People in mourning were the easiest to deceive. "You should've asked."

They glared at him, and before they left, the man said: "Each time you resurrect someone, a small part of Death stays inside you. May it rotten you alive."

(What is 100TC?)