Today marks a critical moment in my life as one of Uroboruuk's pupils. Having passed the trials, the only thing that stands between me and the coveted title of necromancer is performing a reanimation.
I've had the pleasure of seeing our master at work countless times. He is truly a master of the craft, requiring neither reagent nor word to bring the dead back into the living. Uroboruuk claims that this is a matter of practice and form, but I am convinced otherwise. His grasp over death supersedes us all, even his oldest students who, at a whim, may call upon spirits to do their bidding; but even they require binding runes and focusing stones of which our master makes no use of. The dead Uroboruuk brings back don't just serve him; they seem eager to please their master, as if to earn his favor.
But now it is my turn to join the elite ranks of the Order. I've studied the scrolls, learned the rites and burned the words into my memory through exhaustive repetition. I've gathered the grave moss and the dust from buried bones. I am ready. Tomorrow, I will drag a soul back from beyond the veil of death and force it into skeletal remains. Tomorrow I emerge from the sepulcher as a full-fledged necromancer.