Read The Lone Necromancer Novels & Stories

the announcer complemented him. “And last but not least, the lone wolf himself, Vandrad Stanier!” Some people in the audience began howling like wolves. “They call him the lone wolf, the self-taught mage from the sacred mountains of the south,” Vandrad moved forward and gave the crowd two quick waves of his hand before stepping back into line. "Lorth had never seen a wizard as powerful as himself, let alone one who was self-taught. You can all see his leather grimoire and Red ruby, indicating that he has attained a level of mastery that only a few people achieve, and not to mention that he has accomplished all of this at such a young age and without the assistance of a master Lorth mage, so

I grinned and turned to look at Veronica who was looking very confused. "Why are you two looking at each other like that?" She asked."We were discussing" I said and her frown deepened. "In your minds?" She pressed further. "That's right" "Okay, what did you two come up with then?" "We have a necromancer" I said and she narrowed her eyes. "It's very rare to find a real necromancer. Do I know the person? Who is it?" she asked.I gave her a smug look. "Me"

She was like a vampire, hungrily draining my blood. I did not even think twice. I booted her off me like she was nothing but a dirty old rag. She sprawled by the door, panting like she had run a marathon. Her voice raspy as she cackled at me, "Bet you didn't see this coming, huh? Only the dead set for cremation get out of the morgue, and I was lying in wait, just thirsty for your blood, you little snake!" My blood fell to the floor and soaked into Jim, who was like a ghost. His see-through form turned a deep red, his eyes glowing with a fiery rage as he fixed his gaze on the key and the factory contract in my hand.

“I’ve already paid.” I tossed a bundle onto the ground. The cloth unfurled, revealing strands of silver hair, darkened with blood. Amara’s blood. The Necromancer crouched, his gloved hand brushing over the offering. His head tilted, listening to the memory bound within the strands. “The same blood,” he murmured. “Two vessels. Two mirrors.” “Balance,” I breathed. “Her light, my darkness.” The river swelled at my words, churning louder.

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.

'Book forty-three of the Kingsmen Chronicles. He leaned the book back towards him and pulled it from the shelf with grace. He smiled as he looked at it in his hand, his eyes carefully considering the intricate pattern of the gold decorating the cover. Gingerly, he cracked it open, leading through the pages until at last he found the desired portion. "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not laid hold of it," he read aloud, proclaiming the fate of the nations.

I barely make a sound but just to be sure, I also activated a spell that will ensure he won’t be able to smell or sense me. At the bottom of the grand staircase, he turns right, toward the old museum annex I’d once helped design. It’s filled with relics and curiosities: swords, banners, magical artifacts, even a petrified lycan’s paw. But he doesn’t seem interested in any of those. Instead, he kneels on a display rug and removes it, showing a thick, iron-banded trapdoor that leads to the basement. He then unlocks it with a key hanging from his necklace.

Ava's POV: I picked out a thick leather bound book from the shelf. Its black rough surface was covered with dust. Wiping it with my palm, I looked at the title. Senex Animarum. Once again, I felt the frustration gripping my insides. Every single book in this place was filled with a language I didn't know. I should've taken French this semester. But this language looked nowhere near French. I opened the book and looked at the worn out dust-filled pages. There were diagrams. And foreign words.

I smiled and then watched her walk out of my room, closing the door behind her. Alone in my room once more, I opened my hand, holding the drive. With my hand flat, my palm facing up, I smiled at how small it looked. Whatever was on here, hopefully, it would be big enough to make a difference in bringing Blackwood back to its former glory and finding out the truth.

I felt the itch on my body but I didn’t experience shifting during the blood moon. I finally found Alarick, who was still drinking his beer. “Alarick.” I tapped his shoulders as he is now immersed in the moon’s energy. “What is it?” I saw his eyes turn from bloody red to silver. He is absorbing the power of the moon. “Y-you need to see this.” I led the way and started running back to the cell. When both of us entered the dungeon, I immediately opened the door and was confused by what I saw. “Is that?”