Beatrix was trembling now, sweat beading on her forehead despite the unnatural cold that had settled over the ground.
"Grimoire magic. The most forbidden act in all of sorcery—resurrecting the dead. If the casting is performed within an hour of death, the spell takes their dying pain and suffering and turns it into a hunger that will not stop until it is fed."
"The undead rise and attack the nearest living creatures they can reach. They do not know friend from enemy. They only know the need to tear and feed."
Velma's voice was barely a whisper, filled with a new kind of dread. "No wonder they banned grimoire magic. You will see your loved ones wake again, only to watch them try to eat your face off. There is no mercy in it. No peace."
The undead army grew with every passing second as more bodies answered the call. What had been scattered corpses became a shambling, growing mass of a couple of hundred or more.
