Chapter 1 #2
So, yeah, whenever I felt that shit, I had a very visceral reaction to it.
Other than being strategically sound, it was another reason why I’d teleported to the outer rim of the area. To get a handle on it and bury—pun intended—the personal sentiment attached to it. Volatile emotions when going into battle and wielding the type of power that I did were highly detrimental.
I swallowed it down and took in the self-sustaining supernatural haven up ahead.
Modern cottages, minimalist cabins, domed garden homes, and even curved structures. The scattered dwellings were woven naturally into the woods and mountainside near a misty stream. Pathways were softly illuminated by floating lanterns.
I upturned my palms, my crimson magic glowing as I employed Soul Track—my ability to locate active souls.
The moment I located a true living being, a flickering outline would appear, even through the dozen structures up ahead. There were forty beings living in this community so far, with more slated to join shortly and expand the settlement.
I frowned as nothing flickered at all.
I pulled harder, thinking that the toxicity of the black magic in the air had impacted me somewhat.
Nothing.
Still no flickers.
No active souls at all.
Had they all escaped before I’d arrived?
Or so much worse—had they all perished?
No. That couldn’t be. These beings weren’t helpless in the least. They had the means to defend themselves, at least for a time.
Where the rising dead were concerned, unless they were put back down properly, they would continue on and on, exhausting anyone who was battling against an attack from them. But this quickly? It didn’t make sense.
Reese had told me that this attack had only begun a half hour ago.
Something caught my eye through the darkened areas near the houses themselves. All the lights were off and the lanterns lighting the pathways didn’t draw close enough to assist with visibility without that in play.
Irregular, dragging movements.
Grunting and groaning.
Hallmarks of the dead being raised.
A certain kind of raising actually.
There were different ways to pull a being from death state, but this was, unfortunately, the most common. And the most offensive, especially to the balance of nature.
In this particular case, these would be referred to by the uninitiated as zombified beings.
Animated Fleshwork was the technical term.
And black magic users were notorious for raising this way, re-animating a long-deceased corpse, allowing it to breathe again but without mind or soul, and within a broken and rotten body.
It was a misconception to believe they could create more of themselves through biting a true living being.
However, they could certainly cause a great deal of damage and chaos through the will and control of those who’d raised them.
The magic running through them spurred them on, kept them intact, and even allowed them to wield their caster’s power in short, volatile bursts.
They were vessels for carnage and heresy.
Doors of the residences were flung open and the dead staggered out, headed down the lantern-lit paths. Those I’d initially spotted came into better view as well, moving out from the shadows around the homes.
The bodies of Animated Fleshwork were a patchwork of ruin—slack flesh hanging from bone, rot stretching over shattered frames, eyes clouded with the haze of death. Clothing hung from them in tatters, many soiled with dirt.
As they passed by, the lanterns flickered, then went out entirely, one after the other. It was black magic poisoning the pure magic fueling them.
But as they started in my direction and blanketed the area in darkness, I’d already seen what I needed to.
Bodies sprawled out inside those homes.
Fresh death. No rot. No bloat.
Salvageable.
Those whom they’d killed, the residents belonging to Glasswake Settlement.
But there were only half of them felled within the structures.
Where were the rest?
Had they fled when these two dozen Animated Fleshwork had overrun them?
Had the death raiser who now controlled these beings taken them somewhere else?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a question I had time to answer. Not until I’d dealt with the immediate issue—saving those who’d been murdered.
Time was absolutely of the essence.
I couldn’t afford to hesitate.
And as the dead drew toward me, grunting, groaning, and snarling inhumanly, they were unwittingly putting themselves in the perfect position for me to act as I needed to.
Far enough away from the freshly dead residents, yet not too far away for what needed to be done in conjunction with me sending them screaming back to where they’d come from—and once I was done, the death raiser responsible too.
I could reset the balance at the same time as pulling the freshly dead back, the moment I opened the door to the Valley of the Dead.
But every moment that passed made that less viable.
It had to be now.
I stormed toward the two dozen dead, snapping my palms up and calling my power. It flamed brightly, but I pushed harder. I would need a mass amount to employ Risen Reckoning, which would reset their death states in one brutal sweep of necromantic magic.
Blazing red shot up several feet into the air from either palm, streaming toward the dark clouds overhead.
A huge rush rolled through me, like a heating pins and needles sensation that set every part of me alight and held the spell steady.
Lightning sparked, becoming flash lightning in moments, tearing into the sky and shooting all around the area.
And then I slammed my palms together with all that power, creating a mammoth shockwave that was akin to a necromantic nuke, blasting into the Animated Fleshwork.
I waited the brief moments it would take to drop them cold where they stood, indicating they’d been returned to the Valley of the Dead. Then I’d return their bodies via magic to their correct gravesites.
That didn’t happen.
All of them stilled instead.
Frozen to the spot.
Unmoving.
Like creepy-as-fuck mannequins.
What the—what was happening?
“Not possible,” I breathed.
I couldn’t feel a push at the proverbial door to the Valley of the Dead either, the sign that the freshly dead were there and ready to be tethered back to the living.
There was just… death?
Death unchallenged.
I shot a look through the open homes, seeing the fallen bodies still very much steeped in fresh death.
“No. This can’t…” I teleported right in front of the frozen beings.
It was technically possible for black magic to have corrupted my spell.
Were they being held in stasis by said magic and whoever the hell their death raiser was? If so, it couldn’t hold for long. My power would most definitely override it.
I reached out, bracing myself to be burned by touching a being animated by a mass amount of black magic—but I never made contact.
My hand went right through.
Not a ghost.
Nothing.
There was nothing there at all.
A blue film materialized, and then the Animated Fleshwork melted away.
Fuck.
They’d never been there.
It had all been an illusion.
But what was left as the film dematerialized had me choking and stumbling back.
Twelve piles of ashes.
“No. No. No. No.”
“Oh, it’s very much a reality,” a voice whispered with sadistic glee on the wind. “You murdered them, necromancer.”
I spun around, trying to locate the source.
I couldn’t.
My hands were trembling.
I felt sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t… I couldn’t breathe properly.
I looked out at the residences.
That voice startled me, speaking again, an echoing boom through the dark this time.
“Oh, they’re very real. The reason you couldn’t Soul Track them was high-level illusionary magic with a hefty dose of Celestial Power gifted to me to ensure it would fool even the likes of you.
I killed them. I got bored while I was waiting for you.
And I couldn’t have them left remaining for you to save and take the sting out of this massacre that you perpetrated with the others. ”
I stared at the ashes of the fallen.
Using Risen Reckoning on the living… it just wasn’t done. It operated very differently. It… erased them. There was no bringing them back, not even for somebody like me.
They were just… gone.
I collapsed to my knees before them.
And then I was retching and vomiting all over the ground, my fingers sinking into the muddied grass.
I’d only just stopped when I felt a surge of powerful magic, just a second before blue shimmering chains were wrapping around me rapid-fire, locking me in a full-body bind.
I was too pained, too distressed, to react in time.
And then something was drilling into my throat—into my veins.
A literal drill conjured by magic, glowing ominously with the same shade as the chains.
As I shuddered and spluttered, a hand grasped my shoulder and held me steady with a whole lot of strength on my other side.
I was just about able to make out Reese there grinning smugly, before he plunged a syringe into the side of my neck opposite the drill.
“Have fun with this,” he said, a moment before stepping back, just as a rush of movement swept through the area.
Then somebody else stood beside him, that same blue magic flaming from his palms.
He was a preppy fuck—short blond hair slicked back and tightly styled, wearing a checked blue and white blazer giving way to navy tailored pants. He was wearing a ton of flashy jewelry too.
I’d never met him, but I knew of him. I’d seen file photos from my contacts in the supernatural underground.
A Vampire-Sorcerer hybrid.
“Masquerade,” I choked, as that magical drill drove deeper into my throat.
“Yes. That’s my beloved moniker.”
“He prefers Corvin Morvain,” Reese said. “Show some respect.”
“You… did this.”
Corvin flashed his fangs as he held his magic steady, continuing to drive the drill deeper, tearing through my flesh, while he held me immobile with the chains—and the devastation of what he’d set me up to do.
“Yes. The great Sylas Morgrave has been outmaneuvered.”
Reese snickered. “That Scotch you were drinking? Had the entire crate spiked with a very useful concoction for tonight’s festivities.
It dulled your necromantic senses enough for us to ensure you couldn’t see through the illusion and that your Soul Track ability wouldn’t override it and pick up on the living residents beneath the illusion. ”
“Why?” I groaned. “For your… amusement?”
“No. For this,” Corvin said, as an agonizing burn tore through my entire body, making me convulse in the chains and scream out into the night.
The magical drill was ripped from my flesh, making me bleed all down my throat and over my coat, and then Corvin was at my other side with a burst of vampire speed and grasping it in his hand.
I started as I saw a shimmering dark-red gem blazing bright within the transparent blue handle of the drill.
“A portion of your necromantic core,” he told me, horrifyingly.
“No!” I cried, trying to lurch forward, only to be stopped by the chains.
“And that injection that Reese delivered for me? A special concoction courtesy of my work with Chimera Circle. A nasty infection for a necromancer.” He smirked.
“Think of it like a twisted version of a vampire. A partial turn, if you will.” He stowed the drill away with a flash of his magic, sending it hell knew where, then he grasped my jaw.
“Funny how life works, isn’t it? If you’d known, you wouldn’t have wasted time with that night off of yours, wasted your power, hmm?
Because this night was your last being you.
With what I’ve done to you, you’ll never be that again. ”
A shudder rolled through me that I couldn’t stop for the life of me.
“Why… why… do this?”
“Ah, my endgames are my own.” He gestured at Reese.
“Even he doesn’t know. He just enjoys taking powerful do-gooders down a peg or two.
He became disillusioned with this community he was a part of.
All goodness and harmony. All wasted fucking power.
He offered Glasswake up to me as part of my plan for you.
And how well you played your part, Sylas. Your father would be so proud.”
I gritted my teeth. “Leave him… out of it.”
“How can I?” he gestured at the dead. “This is just like his handiwork, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Go… to hell.”
He chuckled nastily. “Looks like it’s you who’s going to be headed there now. I’m sure this will torture you very nicely.”
I growled low in my throat, then finally managed to call my power, expelling it through my body and breaking the chains.
Reese’s eyes widened.
But before I could react, Corvin did, thrusting his hand right through Reese’s chest, then yanking out his heart in a chilling, macabre display.
He kicked Reese’s corpse over, then spun back to me with his heart in his hand.
He licked it, then dropped it on the floor with a splat. “No witnesses. You understand.”
I made a move to attack, but his vampire speed eclipsed my reaction time, and he smashed his boot with all his strength into my face.
Blackness took me.