I Can Raise Skeletons

The ability to summon the undead makes necromancy one of the rarest and most prestigious callings, with fewer than a thousand practitioners across the globe. Unlike ordinary privilege, my birthright wasn’t silver or gold—it was the dark gift of commanding skeletal minions from the cradle. While others inherit wealth, I was bestowed with the power to make corpses dance at my whim, placing me among an elite circle feared and revered in equal measure. This isn’t just nobility—it’s mastery over life’s final threshold, a lineage written in bone rather than blood. The world may have kings and billionaires, but none wield authority over death itself like those of our ancient craft. My cradle didn’t rattle with toys; it echoed with the whispers of restless spirits awaiting my command. Such is the weight of a destiny carved not in gemstones, but in the very fabric of mortality. Where others see graveyards as places of endings, we necromancers recognize them as libraries of potential servants. This isn’t mere status—it’s the ultimate transgression against nature’s laws, and the ultimate privilege.