Well, another apology. I should just copy and paste the same apology at the start of each ot these. Maybe there’s a function to pin an apology… yeah, I’m not going to find the time to do that either! Busy, we’re all busy, that’s not an excuse, it’s just the way it is.

Also, it turns out having a moderately popular note (by my standards) leads to gripping terror that my next post has to be REALLY good, but what does that even mean? I’m going to stop, before this turns into a ramble. Thanks for reading!

Last time on Necromance in the Air. Before our brief insight into Daniel’s past, our courageous…uh…hapless quartet had opened up the secret entrance to a staircase beneath the reception desk in the cursed office building. The enemies at the gate had defeated the giant whale’s heart, and Felix had caught the silhouette of a moustache before plunging into the abyss. Where do the stairs lead? Are they descending into an even worse situation…I mean, that seems very likely, doesn’t it?

No idea what’s going on? Don’t worry, there’s loads more weirdness to catch up on here-

Chapters

Going Down…

“I’m not sure your corporate colour schemes are really giving a message about positivity,” Lucy said, panting as they hurried down the stairs.

“I agree,” Daniel chipped in. “There’s something to be said for brand consistency, but I’m not sure the blend of a tomb and a sunken submarine after a zombie outbreak is doing the traditional job of painting a terrifying and soulless corporation as something warm and fuzzy.”

“The zombie thing is on the nose, though,” Lucy said.

“I’ll be sure to send your feedback to upper management,” Debs said. She was at the front as they trooped down the stairs. The metal spiral staircase was unnervingly narrow, forcing them into single file. The railings were cold to the touch, slick with an odd dampness that made it difficult to tell whether it was condensation or something worse.

“Ah-ha,” Debs said, stopping and pointing at the wall. “What was that about corporate identity?”

On the wall was a poster. It was curling at the edges, with some kind of black mould covering the bottom corner, but there was no denying the feeble attempt at corporate identity: ‘Necromancy—next-level healthcare.’

Lucy laughed. “Seriously? Next-level healthcare?”

“It’s true. Unless you’re one of those ‘Dead means dead’ types. Who are you to decide if someone is technically dead? We’re pretty close to getting necromancy into the NHS, you know. Of course, we’re calling it resurrection therapy, but still—”

“Does that mean those people up there weren’t undead?” Daniel said, his voice a whisper.

“No,” Felix said. “They were undead, but that’s not the same as dead, is it? I mean, I once choked on a piece of bacon and passed out, but someone did the Heimlich on me and I woke up again. Was I dead?”

“No. Also, that’s gross,” Lucy said.

“Why’s it gross? Choking is perfectly—”

“I’m vegan. Meat is murder.”

“So I can’t mention meat at all? That’s ridiculous. Are you—”

“Felix has a good point. Is the Heimlich manoeuvre just a form of necromancy? What about CPR? For all you know, CPR is just another necromantic ritual.”

“It’s not the same. IT’S NOT THE SAME,” Lucy shouted, then let out a squeak of shock as her voice echoed around the stairwell.

As Lucy’s voice faded, Debs nodded and turned. “Agree to disagree.”

“I don’t agree to disagree. I disagree to disagree,” Lucy said, stamping her foot on the metal stairs as she spoke, causing the entire staircase to rattle.

Daniel raised his hand.

“Yes, Security Man?”

“Um, could you call me Daniel? Also, I disagree.”

“Firstly, no. Secondly, fine. Disagree to disagree,” Debs said with a nod before continuing down the stairs.

Minutes passed without a word. Aside from the rhythmic clang of their footsteps on metal, there was a faint, irregular dripping sound somewhere below—a sound that had no obvious source, yet echoed as if the darkness itself was breathing.

“Are you okay?” Lucy said, turning to Felix. “You’ve barely said a word since they broke through the door.”

“Am I okay?” Felix said, a spluttering laugh falling from his lips. “Shall we talk about my demonic tentacle arm?”

“Oh, right. You seemed to be coping with that pretty well—”

“How about the undead whale heart? Or all of the people who just got killed? Maybe the call centre staff who were absorbed into that heart—”

“Okay, I get it. Don’t forget that Daniel and I don’t come from a world of necromancy and dark magic like you and Debs.”

Felix glared at the back of Lucy’s head. Her bobbed hair bounced with every step she took, exuding false nonchalance. Step, step, step. The spiral staircase dropped them ever deeper, and still, there was no sign of light from below. The small red lights embedded in each step cast long, stretched-out shadows on the curved walls, twisting and shifting as they moved, making it feel like something was following just out of sight.

“I know. This isn’t normal for any of us, that’s all I’m saying. Anyway, I’m fine. You and Daniel seem to be coping pretty well.”

The sound of something metallic scraping below them interrupted the conversation. Sudden gasps from all of them cut through the air, and the sound of scuttling footsteps echoed up from the darkness below.

“Not me,” Daniel said, his voice shaking. “I am completely and utterly terrified. I’m covered in people’s remains, and it’s starting to go all hard and crusty as it dries. You never see that on the telly, do you? Chafing because your clothes are covered in dried blood. I don’t think any of this is real, though. Right now, I’m thinking maybe someone tried to break in, and they smashed me over the head. So, this is probably all some kind of brain damage-induced coma dream.”

“Huh,” Debs said. “There’s some logic there.”

“Then again, if this is my coma, why does it smell like wet dog and existential dread?”

They carried on walking, the metal steps clanking beneath their feet as they maintained a constant rhythm. The deeper they descended, the more the walls seemed to close in, the cylindrical tunnel giving the unsettling sensation of being swallowed whole. The air grew heavier, laced with a musty, ancient scent—like damp stone and something just faintly metallic.

“Do you think that could’ve happened to me too?” Lucy said. “I mean, genuinely, that sounds like it might be preferable.”

“Will you lot knock it off?” Debs snapped. “We need to be thinking about what’s next. Thanks to you lot, I’ve probably got some kind of bounty on my head. In offices all over the globe, there’s going to be people drawing moustaches on our faces.”

“What does that do?” Daniel asked. “Is it a curse?”

“No, Security Man, I mean they’ll have printed out pictures of us—you know, wanted posters.”

“Wanted for what?” Lucy asked.

Felix snorted. “Does it matter?”

They fell silent, trudging down step after step into the red-hued darkness until Debs stopped.

“We’re here.”

“Research and Development. I’ve never been down here. For some reason, I thought it would be all white shiny floors and bright lights—you know, nicer than upstairs,” Felix said.

Lucy turned in a circle, peering into the darkness. Her breath came out in clouds of condensation as the temperature dropped. Unlike the clean, corporate sterility of the office above, this place felt ancient. The walls weren’t just made of stone—they were carved, deep twisting runes lining their surfaces, glowing faintly as though whispering some long-forgotten incantation. It didn’t feel like a laboratory. It felt like a tomb.

“I think… I think even after the blood and the giant undead heart smearing evil death liquid everywhere, upstairs was nicer.”

The others gave murmurs of agreement.

“Does nobody else think it’s weird that we seem to have walked down about twenty floors underground?”

“No, seriously. There’s no way this place got planning permission.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t the local authorities have something to say about an average new-build office building, in an outskirts business park, digging down multiple floors…” She trailed off as she inspected the wall.

Surrounding the red glowing lights, the twisted runes carved into the stone seemed to move before her eyes. “This place was here before the office building, wasn’t it?” Lucy said.

“Do you think?” Debs said. She stepped aside to let the others off the staircase. “I don’t know all the details, but I think this place is older than the offices upstairs. It wouldn’t surprise me if the company forced through the entire business park just so they could put an office building on top of it.”

“How old is it?” Daniel asked.

The air was thick—humid but cold at the same time—carrying an undercurrent of something sweet and rotting. Breathing felt harder down here, as if the space itself resented their presence.

“Old,” Debs said with a shrug.

The lights flickered, and a few metres away, a bright white spotlight appeared, illuminating a reception area. It was an eerie mirror of the one upstairs—same layout, same furniture, but somehow... wrong.

Behind the desk stood a tall figure, limbs far too long, wearing a tight-fitting suit and a garish tie.

Debs turned to the group, shook her head, and snapped, “Come on,” before striding towards the desk.

The figure’s mouth—its only discernible feature—stretched into something that might have been a grin, but contained far too many teeth to be friendly.

“Welcome to Research and Development. Do you have an appointment?”

Aha, who is our toothy grinning little friend? What in all heck is going on? Is necromancy technically healing? Is healing technically necromancy? Where do we draw the line?! Okay, I’m probably not going to answer that question any time soon, but I will reveal MORE WEIRDNESS SOON!! Beware the moustache….

Please do the liking and sharing thing. Actually, if you don’t do it for me, do it for someone you read, because it really does make us want to write, to produce more content for you to devour. It’s not just kind, it is you saying, ‘yeah, I want more of this.’ So, in the capitalist world we live in, I ask you to pay the low, low, fee of clicking the like button and sharing in return for everything you’ve just read… OR, if you hated it do it anyway out of pity, that’s fine too.