No romance,

She was just a dancer.

I was the High Court

Necromancer.

It brought her to her knees,

When I rose him to his feet,

One snap,

He’s back, in a hole so deep.

Her promise, made to me,

Blood Pact,

She’ll dance,

She’ll slave for me.

To save her lover,

Hear him speak,

But she couldn’t afford

Much more from me.

We took the dance floor 

She took the lead 

I said “Now, wait…”

She spoke, “Don’t speak.”

I was the High Court 

Necromancer,

But she was the 

Backroom Ballroom

Master.

She shoved me backward

Into my seat.

She ran

Cold hands

All over me.

She dropped, she popped 

And stomped her feet.

She fought for her lover,

She got to me.

She lifted her arms

And her bangles fell 

From her lazy limp wrists,

She licked her lips,

And I could already tell

She planned

To damn 

Our souls to Hell.

She said,

“One second, I’ll return to you…”

I was getting suspicious,

I had to learn the truth.

So I waited for the dancer 

To leave the room.

I leapt up, fast

To make my move.

No choice,

I approached the mindless corpse

Leaning up against the wall,

Eyes fixed to the floor.

“Listen now, I need some answers,

About the High Court

Backroom Ballroom

Dancer.”

He lifted 

His rotting, bobbing head,

With breath like death

The poor soul gasped,

“You’ve led us both into a trap…”

Before he could finish,

The dancer was back.

She had come with the priests,

I was caught in the act.

Because only the King can give direction

To commit the act of resurrection.

Knowing this law, the dancer knew

She could make me into the

 High Court Fool.

I was executed the very next day. She was given my title, my spellbook, my place.

Then she went to the King, a request was made…

She snatched my ass up out of the grave,

And bound me with curses, in ethereal chains…

A revenant slave, to the will of the Master.

So for all who may wonder, here is the answer

To how the Backroom Ballroom Dancer 

Became the High Court

Necromancer.