Boundless Necromancer Novels & Stories

Constantine leaned in closer to Baros, her voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "Baros, my dear, as we perform this spell, I want you to ensure that it binds not only my powers but also the loyalty of the men I've sired. I want them to be my devoted servants, my private army, ready to carry out my every command." Baros nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "That's a delicate manipulation of the spell, Constantine. It's not just about power; it's about controlling their wills without them realizing it."

Something that still carries the Church’s coin and the Church’s warrants. He sips his ale slowly, eyes scanning the wall behind the bar where fresh posters have been tacked up. The ink is still damp in places. Raven Winterstar stares back at him from the parchment—child’s face, white hair, sharp blue eyes that seem to follow him even in charcoal and soot. Below the sketch: **NECROMANTRESS. 500 GOLD MARKS. DEAD OR ALIVE.** Garrick sets the tankard down. Wipes foam from his mustache with the back of his hand. He’s seen worse bounties. He’s hunted worse things. But a child who raises the dead… that’s new. That’s interesting.