Operation Necromancer Novels & Stories

Their mouths gaped, sewn shut with thread that glowed faintly, trapping centuries of screams. They had once been warriors. Wolves. Mages. Leaders. Banished, betrayed, erased. Now, they belonged to me. A figure emerged from the skeletal trees. He was tall, draped in rotting velvet that reeked of earth and decay. His face was hidden by a jagged mask fashioned from bone. The Necromancer. “You summoned me,” he rasped, his voice grating like stone on stone. “You know the price.” I rose to my feet, my shadow stretching across the poisoned earth in ways no living thing’s should. “I’ve already paid.”

He tumbled along the ground and stopped motionless, lying like a broken doll. “No!” I didn’t even realize at first that it was me who had cried out. Was he dead? No, his soul wasn’t flying away! And even if it was, I would get it back. I was a necromancer, dammit. Rage and desperation flashed inside me, and my other half got the upper hand. Instead of banishing the devourers with my necromantic power, I immolated them with a stream of scorching flames. It didn’t really matter anymore, though.

The healer gapes at him before looking down at the warrior, whose chest is moving slightly. “Thank you,” the healer whispers. Kieran addresses Kael and me now. “The rot. I can track them through the rot.” Hope flares, hot and desperate. “How? What do you mean?” I ask him. “Necromancy leaves a signature.” His hands begin to move in intricate patterns, magic gathering around his fingers. “Death corrupts everything it touches. The air, the ground, the very fabric of reality. It rots.” His eyes meet mine grimly. “And rot always leaves a trail.”

"Can he do that, I mean how?" "Necromancers serve as link between the dead and the living. I'm alive and human, but not the other creatures, they're not of the physical world and only a necromancer can take them there. What you see happening to your town is as a result of his coming, as he draws nearer so will the disaster get worse. So by the time he arrives, the remaining survivals will be annihilated by the abomination he'll invite to your world." "How do we stop him?"

I replied quietly to him. Not long after that, we were in our carriage, heading to the Soleil Keeper. And suddenly I felt anxious and sick. Yeah, nothing good is going to come out of this shit. To make it more annoying, Rai's best friend, Elodie Aoife Branwen {the wealthy and radiant white crow}, also came with us. Not to say that she's scared shitless of me, the only one at that. And that girl is always around, she's like the ghost member of our House, and she's also the daughter of one of the biggest Houses in the Kingdom.

he said as he stared at the burning building, and I heard from a distance painful screams from that building. “Grim reaper?” both my mind and mouth asked. I read stories about them from multiple books in my library. He shook his head as he whispered to my ear, “Non, I am Doom and I-“

If anything it made me more angry and even more frustrated. There was someone who was clearly desperate for Ellie to be dead. So desperate that they used her own brother against her in a seriously cruel manner. "At the moment we are trying to purge Link of the drugs in his system so we can begin deconstructed his mind to get his real memories back," Nicole said. "So he wasn't actually in control of his actions?"

Searching for meaning--- DEATH won't separate LOVE Behind the shadows--- MONEY is not enough to buy TRUST Change is possible--- JUSTICE won't be attained if you don't know how to ACCEPT Finding God--- A foe to God was never a friend to MANKIND. Sorrow--- NO WAY, an OATH. Four souls wagered for the good, Let thy stars attest thee, Of these tainted blood, Ready to be spilled. Everything makes sense now; does the pen pertains to Jeremy GLOSS himself? But how was he involved in the Netherworld? How did he DIE again? "Hey, stop spacing out," Grey violently patted my back, that I almost fell on my seat.

It was a chemical ghost story whispered in the darkest corners of international medical conferences—a weapon designed to degrade the nervous system so slowly and agonizingly that the victim begged for death weeks before their heart actually stopped. "They said forty-eight hours," Elara mused, tapping her manicured nails against the glass surface of her desk. "If it's the VX-9 variant I suspect it is, the Patriarch is already in the final stages of cellular necrosis. They don't want a doctor, Dante. They want a necromancer."

The current situation suggests we possess the capability to initiate our own enterprise. My mouth opened to protest yet before any argument formed Alexander stood up abruptly. "Wait here," he instructed before vanishing from the nursery beyond my reach to prevent him. My eyelids performed their function in his wake. “Alexander? ” The system produced no output. Several minutes passed before I detected the wheeled noise moving through the hallway and upon his reappearance my breath caught. He pushed a handcrafted wooden crib which stood as an absolute masterpiece. The pale cream-colored wood was delicately carved with moons and stars matching the celestial theme of the nursery perfectly. The c