Operation Necromancer Novels & Stories

Jumping down the kitchen aisle, I put the tools I'd borrowed from the guard earlier and head out of the kitchen to go directly to his room, avoiding stepping on the glass pieces spread over the floor. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take the stairs and push the door open of his room, revealing the broken furniture and the dark-colored scheme of his room, which has me pull open the door by the doorknob all the way to step inside, and air knocks on my lung when my eyes find him sitting on the floor, pressing the barrel of his gun below his throat! "Oh, my god! Lincoln! No!" I shriek in horror. He looks startled at my scream, and his eyes snap at me; it scares me how dark and gloomy his eye

As if noticing my curious glances, Lucan leaned closer and explained, “That’s a Graveborn. They call themselves Necromancers.” I frowned, studying the man in question. At first glance, he looked human but the details betrayed him. His eyes glowed a deep crimson, and when he spoke, sharp fangs flashed briefly. I would’ve taken him for a vampire, but his skin wasn’t pale like the ones I’d met before; instead, it held a faint gray tint, like ash brought to life.

The necromancer began to rapidly age before their eyes, his skin turning dry and wrinkling before peeling away from his bones until all that was left was a skeleton, which eventually toppled to the ground with a cluttering sound. Zeke and Sébastien stared in silence at the pile of bones on the ground, both of them wondering if Gilbert was really gone for good. The necromancer had the uncanny ability to resurrect himself and they couldn't help but feel cautious about his apparent death. Hearing the voices of the three women behind them, Zeke shifted back and they turned to watch them approach.

"I'm going to die?" "Not if I can help it," I said fiercely, pulling her closer against my side. "The only way to stop the Hunt mark is to kill the one who placed it," Ronan explained. "Or complete the ritual." "Then we kill the bastard with the scars," I said. "Kael Bloodmane." Ronan's face went grim. "He's not just any rogue, Jaxon. He's a necromancer. A blood mage. He's survived three separate execution attempts by the High Council."

Beside me, Uncle Elias unfastened the safety latch on his sidearm, while Drake adjusted his tactical grip. I gave the silent signal. BOOM! My lead operators slammed their heavy boots against the center seam, kicking the antique doors wide open with a violent, thunderous crunch that shattered the quiet atmosphere inside. A violent, dramatic entry was entirely necessary. I knew these arrogant elders had no intention of accepting my rule willingly; they were sitting inside right now, plotting how to box me in, challenge my youth, and force my surrender. They were severely underestimating what it meant to be a true Mercer.

A lot of people expected him to fail, but just like anything else in his life, Colton always found a way to get what he wanted. Behind those icy blue eyes and boyish smile, Colton was a cunning and cold-hearted businessman. He learned everything he knew from his father and his grandfather before that. All the men of the Rhodes family left this earth with a formidable legacy, and Colton planned to do the same. He was going to start making his mark in the world through this first lethal mission: killing Henri Ascott and ending his empire.

"Did you really not have to kill anyone to gain your power? Like for Necromancers in general, not just you." His question caught me off guard. Why was he stuck on this killing thing? Did they all think we were a bunch of mindless killers? "John, Necromancy isn't something you can buy. It's something we're born with, and I've never heard of a Necromancer taking a life - at least, not outside of the war." He still had that calculating look in his eyes, but our time was up. I watched his dad and the other figures take aim, raising their arms and pointing in our direction.

There’s a screaming storm surrounding it and flashes of red, demonic lightning. But I see it, clear as day. So cautious, afraid, and hopeful, I reach a hand toward it. I summon Neron, collecting all the power I can. I reach. I imagine killing that pulsing darkness. My hands glow blue and brilliant. And the second I touch it, my brain is filled with screams, a howling storm of rage. And everything goes dark.

He handed it to Andre, who placed it gently onto the ground and then stepped quickly back. The Necromancer held his arms out wide and began his sing-song chant. The tiny table began to shimmer and started to grow. Within a minute, it had expanded to full size. The Necromancer continued chanting, shifting his tone as he began the incantation that activated the table and called the imprisoned eyes to the surface. When they were all glowing brightly, he fell silent for a few moments, gathering his breath.

I caught the Necromancer's limp form, my fangs bared as I tore into his throat, finishing the kill with ruthless efficiency. As I discarded the lifeless body, another Necromancer lunged at me from behind, but I sensed his approach and spun around, grasping him with an iron grip. With a swift, fluid motion, I snapped his neck, ending his life instantly. His body crumpled to the ground, and I swiftly turned my attention to the next victim, courtesy of Atreyu's expert toss. I caught the Necromancer's body and, with a brutal display of strength, ripped his heart from his chest with my bare hands.