The Boundless Necromancer Novels & Stories

She paused. Then opened it.". The air shifted immediately — colder, denser. From the shadows, her warlock advisor emerged. "My lady…" he warned. "You vowed once never to open that book." "I never vowed," she said coldly. "And besides… losers make rules." She turned a page — blood-red text exhaled onto the parchment, vibrating with forbidden power. Necromancy. Soul merging. Harvest spells that derived strength not in sacrifice… but in bondage. "I will obtain a vessel," she spoke softly. "And I will feed this plague something new. A hunger that is beholden to me."

“There’s an ancient rite. Forbidden, but not lost. It allows one mage to tether the soul of another. It’s not possession. It’s a bond—deep, raw, permanent. Dangerous.” “Dangerous how?” Maxwell asked. “If Lena loses herself, I could pull her back,” Nima said. “But if she falls too far... she could drag me with her.” I stepped forward. “I won’t let that happen.” Nima’s eyes didn’t waver. “You won’t be able to stop it if it does.” The wind screamed suddenly, sharp and low, like a warning. Far on the horizon, pillars of dark light began to rise. The ground quaked beneath us. The seal was almost gone.

Everything inside me goes cold all over again, the flicker of hope that had been there extinguished. I stare at him, dully, knowing it is not Lucas. But it is Lucas. Lucas’s memories, Lucas’s voice, his face, his hands. He begins to walk away from me, as if disgusted, and despite the shock to my system, my eyes catch some thing from the corner of them. The necromancer is standing on the balcony, holding a black spear which is both thick and heavy. His eyes are gleaming as he looks at Lucas’s back. And then he throws it with a speed that is terrifying.

He injected me and then here he was planning to take my powers; that only meant that healing my babies was going to be impossible. "It's time to have those powers, my friend is on her way here Vandeer Blight, the best necromancer", All the remaining color drained from my face when l heard the name. This wasn't a witch but a necromancer. He chose a necromancer over his family.

She crossed to the window and looked out at the grounds below. "You are a Nyxara witch with an unsanctioned bond to an Alpha werewolf. Which is considerably more dangerous." "Unsanctioned," I repeated. "That's what we're calling it." "That is what it is, Isabella. A bond formed outside the bloodline, outside coven law, outside everything our family has built for six generations." She turned. Her eyes were steady. Careful. The eyes of a woman who loved me and had already decided that love required this.

Not because I couldn’t but because I didn’t want to. Do you know how disturbing that is for someone like me? I feel like my entire personality folder got corrupted. Luca keeps calling it “character development,” like he’s personally responsible for this emotional glow-up. Sofia pats my cheek sympathetically and tells me heartbreak builds empathy. Empathy. No thank you. But then something shifts in the air. Like a disturbance in the force. Like the universe whispering, Heads up, King — chaos is coming. So I finally look up and see an eight-year-old girl annihilate my front display like she’s reenacting Fast & Furious: Bookstore Drift.

I already knew that. “It found her because of you.” That didn’t matter. “Fix it.” Her lips curved slightly, but there was no humour in it. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t be here.” I stood, keeping one arm around Iris as she stayed close to me. “Then make it simple.” Lucien exhaled softly behind me. “You really don’t do patience, do you?” I ignored him. The witch’s gaze sharpened slightly. “The bond between you is unstable now,” she said. “It’s no longer bound by distance.”

Physical traits. My hand moved without thinking, brushing lightly against the side of my ear. I had always been told I was human. I had believed it, because there had never been anything to question. But now, standing here, reading this, it didn’t feel like the truth anymore. It felt like something I had been made to believe. I swallowed, my throat dry as I forced myself to keep reading. Such bindings require a blood anchor. Only one of the same bloodline, most often the mother, may cast a seal strong enough to hold royal magic for extended years. The cost is great, and the spell cannot be undone by the caster once completed.