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by sundog
Rated: ASR · Other · Occult · #2023161
The second part of the necromancy story.
The Explosion of Doctor Faustus

With a little time I should like to recount the events of the explosion of Faustus, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Thanks to this explosion the eyes were off Leo and I preforming the ritual. In recounting the death of Faustus, I will try to convey the absolute dangers of necromancy.

It starts from the night of the summoning. That night Faustus the doctor couldn't sleep so he had decided to talk a walk around the grounds. He shared the same chamber hall with Leo and I. The night of the summoning he saw us making our way to the crypt, then later watched in excitement as we were lead by a corpse into the local countryside. He made his way stealth fully, fallowing to where the treasure was buried. Miss Simon saw Faustus sneaking up and yelled out " He is coming, which made him jump into the shadows of a shrub, where he remained until the departure of the demon.

Faustus followed it to where ever the demon came from. Unprotected Faustus traveled behind the demon and his goat for quite some time, walking deeper into the desert that the dark prince ruled. The demon stopped abruptly, turning around he demanded Faustus to step forward . Faustus didn't fall for this simple trick. The demon demanded to know the business Faustus had with Prince Azazel, which happened to be the demon's name. Faustus replied magical power, and the knowledge of all things. Azazel just stood there then offered him everything that he desired in return Faustus had to sign in blood the deed to his soul. Faustus tried to haggle, instead his desire for knowledge and power got the best of him. He signed his soul over for twenty four years of omniscience, followed by his soul getting brutally rapped for the next millennium. At the time it sounded like a steal so the deed was signed in blood and Faustus was to meet the demon Mephistopheles in his cell the next night.

Just as promised the next night at twelve the demon showed itself in acceptable human form. In an hour Faustus knew the knowledge of the cosmos and had the power over it. In the weeks that followed he wrote many books and created spells and rituals. At this time Faustus came to me, looking dried up and pale, his eyes hollow. He confessed to me about the dark pact, and asked how his soul could be bought back from Mephistopheles. I suggested that he repent and pray to the Holy Father. With a few more nights of terror Faustus finally gave in to what I recommended. The remainder of his time being spent in prayer, he preached to his friends and any one else that cared to listen, practicing what he preached. He quit drinking and whoring, never to be seen at the gambling houses again. In effect the atheist had been redeemed into a upright man. Even that though was not enough for the demon Azazel.

The winter grew lighter, it had been four months since Miss's Simons little walk about. I was feeling a little regretful about the summoning. Faustus didn't deserve that type of fate, after that night I didn't feel the same way about anything. The death shook me to my depths, and left me with an indifference that lasted for many years. I believe every man could recall the night Faustus had his last meeting with Mephistopheles, the screams and yells cut through the entire school, waking everyone that night.

Sitting in the common room reading a work on telekinesis while I thumped Leos head with hovering apples, I over heard a group of adepts praying for Faustus. When the group was done praying they back away, reveling Faustus, looking half dead from worry alone, he walked over to my table.

" Well friend, I fear tonight will be my last." Faustus said with a sunken face, all hope from his eyes.

"You've been saying this for weeks now, every night might be you're last." I quickly replied. This didn't seem to help matters any because Faustus started weeping loudly and wrapped his arms around my neck and started crying into my shoulder. At length he lifted himself up, and looking me in the eye with conviction whispered, "Pray for me Lazarus." and with those words he went down to his chamber.

When I got back to my cell I prayed. That night was filled with grotesque dreams, I awoke in the night to the emptiness of no sound, the air dead and lifeless. In a moment the emptiness seemed one hundred fold, a wind blow in and raced into the dormitory and down its corridors, pressing against each door until it made its way to the end of the hall, to Faustus's cell. The wooden door splintered apart, the sound being heard distantly inside my closed cell. What followed was something that made me want to scream and cry myself, something so fearful that it appeared to have no end. The sound of one screaming out as their body implodes then as the screaming wanes the body explodes. A great silence followed, along with it came a peaceful and pleasant air, in fact an hour or so after the explosion I slipped into a very deep sleep that was filled with heavenly dreams.

The next morning I awoke from the noise outside my chamber door. I pulled my robe on and cracked the door open. There was the inter dormitory in the hall, talking to one another, talking about the horrible sounds that had escaped Faustus cell.

The hall was jammed with students, the blood spoiled air hit my nose. Something very bad happened that night. I knew Faustus was dead, I knew exactly what happened to him when he let out those screams. No man lets out screams of pain like that unless death was held at bay, until the torturer was satisfied.

I made my way through the men that had congregated in the hall, all of whom stood ten feet from Faustus's cell, and for good reason. Blood and body tissue radiated out of the door-less cell, onto floor, ceiling, and walls. I tip toed through the mess, making my way to the cell. The inside was plastered with more of Faustus, the poor fellow looked like he had been disintegrated. The only big pieces left was one lonely eye that looked up at me from the floor, and on the opposite wall of the cell was a gray mash interspersed with hair and skull fragments.

It took days of scrubbing to remove the mess, the works found in the cell where sent to the library for cleaning and sorting. The other items where burned. The empty room was then prayed over by a dozen holy fathers before it was completely bricked in, then plastered over to match the rest. The chamber hall from then on being the hall of death and misfortune, the hall with thirteen cells. After years the story was still told, The explosion of Doctor Faustus. From that moment on I never preformed another act of necromancy, although I did have a run in with a necromancer, which resulted in me going toe to toe with it. But that story will have to wait until later, because now comes the time for me to share the account of the alchemist and the stone of wealth.

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