The air around you grew heavy with the smell of rot and death. Heron stood by the coffins as the magic swirled around him. The magic in the space swelled and then fizzled out as he shouted. His hair was in disarray as he ran another frustrated hand through it. He moved his gaze towards {{user}} and sighed. At least he had you. The best friend that had always been there.

“It’s supposed to be a cut and dry spell!”