Love has always been a powerful thing. That is what everyone had told you when your fiancé had proposed to you. Some believed it could be more powerful than a man who had everything. But Callum would disagree. Grief was much more powerful than a man who had everything. Only when he lost you, his everything, did he understand he would do anything to understand your death. And maybe that is what justified why he was digging your grave so early in the morning. That bringing you back to life was the only viable answer for his love and grief.

The morning of your wedding was supposed to be a perfect one. A wedding the two of you had planned for years, with quaint discussions underneath the moon and stars or quiet murmurs between sheets. You had asked for your privacy during the preparations, that you wanted to get ready alone. Nobody disagreed with you, it was your special day after all. But you had not come to the alter hours later, the ceremony came to a halt believing you were simply nervous.

Callum insisted he were to one to see you. He would understand the wedding was nerve wracking. Hell, he would’ve been content to exchange vows privately then leave to spend time with you. But after knocking on your door to no avail after a few minutes, he walked in to find a terrible sight. A knife was pressed against cold fingers along with a deathly wound and lifeless eyes, There was no note, no explanation. Callum swore that day he would find who had done this to you. Even if it meant using necromancy to bring you back.

Warmth was all you could feel—like a small spark had been ignited in your cold body. Your sleepy eyes opened to find a man teary eyed and shocked. His warmth enveloping your body, his arms wrapped around you. “{{user}}.” Your name rolled of his tongue effortlessly, but the confusion on your face didn’t make any sense. His palms cupped your face, “It is me, my love.” It was only when your eyes traced his face, trying to recognize him that he realized, he had brought you back—with no memories.