[ WP ] In the world of magic , some people discriminate against others based on what type of magic they use . You , a closet necromancer , are about to come out to your devout holy mage parents .

I am a conjurer. I've always enjoyed necromancy, though it was shunned by the other mages as a `` dark art''. 
 
 Well, I'm not using my power for evil; I only use it for convenience. For example, I raised an ethereal shade of gourmet pyromancer Gordon Ramsay to cook dinner. 
 
 I should mention who my parents are. My mother is a pyromancer, my father is a geomancer. They were called the `` Brimstone Brigade'', famous for their combo magic during the dividing wars. 
 
 I was told they settled down and became peaceful after the war. Soon after, they rekindled their faith to the Sun Lord. Now, they too shun the dark arts. 
 
 Well, it's time to come out the dead closet, eh? Hmm... I might need shock value. Maybe Carhillion can help. He's a smart mage, and will bring... memories... back to my parents. 
 
 I begin the summoning, my power brewing. The darkness slowly fills me, uncumbering me with negative energy. My whole body becomes vessel for this deep energy. In a flash, the power is released through my palms onto the ground, creating a shade. The shade fills with life as it forms, filling in the darkness. 
 
 A common misconception about necromancy is how the dead are raised. Only savages use real flesh for the summoning. A shade is created from pure dark energy, and slowly becomes whole through the memory of the caster. One could only conjure someone they have knowledge of, or else the ritual is ruined. Since one's memory is used, the dead know why they have been summoned. 
 
 My parents' famed general, Carhillion, is summoned. I led him down the stone stairs ( my father's work ) to the kitchen. My parents sat by the breakfast table, eating charred steak ( my mother's work ). 
 
 They gasped at the sight of Carhillion, as if they'd seen a ghost. Well, they're not wrong. My father was the first to speak up. 
 
 `` General Carhillion, is that you?'' 
 
 `` Yes, it is me,'' he responded carelessly. 
 
 A strange silence filled the room. I was first to break it. `` So, you recognise who this is?'' 
 
 `` Son, why do you have him with you? He's long dead...'' 
 
 `` Mom, dad, I'm a necromancer. I summoned him.'' 
 
 My mother stood up, outraged. `` What?! Our son, a necromancer?! What, do you have a pile of dead flesh in your closet?'' 
 
 *sigh* `` No, mom. Only primitive savages use flesh for conjuring.'' 
 
 My father spoke carefully, breaking the tension. `` Why do you have this power, son? And, more importantly, what have you been using it for?'' 
 
 `` I was born with this power, but soon discovered a passion for necromancy. Do n't worry, I've been using it for good.'' 
 
 `` Okay, son. How are you using a dark art for good?'' 
 
 `` Well, I use the power of conjuring to help me with my chores and education. Remember when I got an S on my history test? I simply conjured the people who lived the history for a more comprehensive lesson. Remember that expertly cooked fish?'' 
 
 My mother, now calmer, chuckled. `` Was it Ainsley?'' 
 
 `` Close; Gordon Ramsay.'' 
 
 My father smiled. `` Alright then, son. As long as you do n't do anything evil, I permit your use of necromancy.'' 
 
 My mother grabbed my shoulder. `` As do I. Now, give us a moment to speak with our old general. You know, catch up.'' 
 
 `` Sure. Just tell me when to release my hold on the energy.'' 
 
 And with that, I went back up to my room to finish my math homework. I think I'll summon Einstein. He's a good mathematician, right? 
 
 Edit: was n't done yet. Finished now.
