Read The Lone Necromancer Novels & Stories

He unfolded the letter on the desk and read it again, slower this time, with the intention of understanding rather than cataloguing. It was not what he had expected from the villain of a seven-volume fantasy epic. There was no manifesto. No dying declaration of ideology. No final curse on the hero's bloodline or impassioned argument for the villain-blooded cause, which the fandom had spent considerable energy debating across three forums and one particularly heated wiki talk page. Varen Dreadmourne, in his final correspondence to his eldest son, had written exactly forty-three words. Kael counted them twice.

It’s like my Lycan has vanished. “Come in me,” She cries, picking up her pace. “Come in your mate. Fill me up and breed me.” I shake my head but that haze, that hollowness, it’s taking over, it’s overwhelming what little fight I have left. “Breed me.” She screams again. “Fill me with your pups.”

"I know." Reese lifted his leg and knocked my buttocks with his knee. I gave him a pat on the arm for it, but before we could really start fighting - not that we ever did - a man in his early thirties stepped out from between the cubicles and came up to us smiling. He wore glasses and had his hair cut so short that I couldn't tell whether it was dark blonde or brown. He seemed to have a slight posture, which he hunched a little, but wow, the muscles that were visible under his sweater certainly didn't come from chilling on the couch. "Hi." He nodded to me and held out his hand to Reese. "I'm Anton Faust and you have to be Reese Tack, the Venator from the guild in Berlin."

Page after page of the Grimoire opened by itself, the pages moving quickly as if enchanted. Even more frightening was the dark mist that appeared with the opening of the Grimoire. "Congratulations, Luna. You have reached the end of the game," the familiar voice echoed. It came from the Grimoire, the voice of the seventh reincarnation that had previously inhabited Rafe's body. "So this is what he's after?" I muttered to myself. I had wondered why the werewolf man had stopped appearing, and now I had the answer. He was preparing this evil plan.

Then don't make him suffer anymore. With the first rays of the sun, Weiss headed to the bookstore, where-he knew for a fact-they sold books on magic under the counter. That is where he bought his son Rene's first necromancy textbook, "Notes of a Practicing Necromancer Alfred Lucius. My First Steps, Mistakes, and Improvements". Rene learned that book by heart, cover to cover.

Inside, the air felt colder. Thicker. Like every book here breathed a little on its own. Some were chained shut with silver locks. Some had covers made from materials I didn’t want to guess at—scales, bone, darkened velvet. Alaric reached for one specific volume. Thick. Heavy. Black leather with a sigil embossed on the front: a circle surrounding a cracked mirror. “This,” he said quietly, “is the kingdom’s only known complete record on necromancy.”

Dozens of them. Almas. Nyxes. Even one that looked like Lena, young, fierce, eyes like knives. “Dear God” Lena whispered. Roman muttered, “This isn’t science. This is necromancy.” And at the far end of the lab stood Lucien. He wore a crown of neural wires, plugged into a mainframe that throbbed with energy. “You made it,” he said, voice amplified. “Just in time to witness your own extinction.” Alma stepped forward. “Why? Why keep building more of me?”

"We have to find a way to break the necromancer's hold over the undead, no matter the cost." I nodded, my own determination burning bright within me. "But how?" I asked, my gaze shifting nervously towards the distant sound of the approaching horde. The necromancer's crimson eyes glinted with amusement. "You will never find a way to stop me," it said, its voice a low, guttural rumble. "The undead are mine to command, and soon, this entire world will be under my rule." It raised its hand, and the air crackled with dark energy once more. Elijah, Liam, and I braced ourselves, our weapons ready to face whatever onslaught the necromancer had in store.

He had some candles everywhere, books scattered to the sides, and some rats were even walking around. I blinked. I don’t recognize him, but I know him. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the necromancer who could do almost anything. “Please make me stronger,” I said without thinking. The necromancer looked at me “Who are you? Your blood is very active.”

It snaked up her sides until when the smoke reached her hands. She cupped the dark substance and pulled it into a ball at her chest. Idris crouched and readied himself to attack the necromancer but I felt my heart beat faster at the sight. The dark necromancer pulled her hands apart then motioned as though she was shaping a black orb then pointed it in Idris's direction. "Noo," My legs began to tremble as I watched.