This spell is a part of the Fang spell chain and can be found in the Fang rune stone.
There is a spell in geomancy called the Curse of Immortality. The necromancer finds it an interesting name, the idea that living forever could be a curse. They understand it, intellectually. But their own understanding of curses runs in a different direction entirely. The necromancer does not fear death. They never have. They have spent their entire craft in its presence, learning its language, sitting beside it patiently until its nature became as familiar and unremarkable as anything else in the world. Death is not frightening to them. Death is simply what happens. The ending of a story. The closing of a book.
What the necromancer finds pitiable, genuinely, quietly pitiable, is the living thing that has been told the story ends but cannot comprehend what that means. They cannot sit with it. They cannot learn from it or grow from it or find the peace that understanding eventually brings. They can only react, blindly and irrationally, the way all things react when they are confronted with something they lack the framework to process. That is the Curse of Mortality. Not death. Never death. The curse is not knowing what death means and being unable to stop that ignorance from consuming everything.
When the necromancer casts this spell they reach through Serenity and show the target one simple truth, that they will die, that it is coming, that nothing they do will change this fundamental fact of their existence. The necromancer has held this same truth for years and found peace in it. The target has no such peace, no such understanding, no years of quiet contemplation to soften what Serenity delivers. They receive the truth raw and without preparation and it breaks something open in them. What follows is not grief or acceptance or any of the dignified responses to mortality that the necromancer might respect. It is panic wearing the mask of aggression. The target is overcome with Berserk Rage for 1d8 rounds. This is not the controlled fury of a warrior in their element but the thrashing, irrational lashing out of something that has been shown the one thing it was never equipped to understand. They deal double damage but can only attack, unable to cast spells, unable to use skills, unable to do anything except strike at whatever is nearest as the knowledge of their own mortality drives them past reason entirely. And strike out at whatever is nearest means even if it was their friend. The target is so afraid, so filled with fear driven rage, that they cannot see the difference between friend or foe.
The necromancer watches this with something that is not quite sadness and not quite contempt. It is closer to the feeling one gets watching something struggle against what it cannot change. They have been where this target is standing. They simply chose a different response.
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