The Boundless Necromancer Novels & Stories

She was betrayed by the man she loved. He intended to use the woman he hated. Lorraine Silvius thought losing her sight was the cruelest thing fate could give her, until she discovered the person she trusted most had been lying to her all along. Determined to uncover the secrets surrounding her mother’s death, she enters the territory of Alexavian Lancaster—the immortal Alpha of the Crimson Pack. A man who has spent centuries despising witches. Bound by secrets, old hatred, and a dangerous attraction neither of them expected, Lorraine and Alexavian must uncover the lies buried beneath centuries of betrayal. Because the closer they get to the truth, the harder it becomes to tel

I created a monster to ruin her. Now he’s ruining me. **** Helena spent her nights writing savage Alphas who dominated, punished, and shattered their women. One car crash later, she died, and woke up trapped in the body of Azalea, the pure 18-year-old princess she had written to be broken. Her fictional story became real as King Valdman Wolverton came for her. Scarred by years of torture, this ruthless werewolf king slaughtered Azalea’s entire family in front of her eyes and dragged her away in chains. He doesn’t want a quick death. He wants her to bleed for every sin her father committed; slowly, brutally, and completely. Helena feels every second of it: every painful lash and every cr

They were somehow also unaffected by her waves of ultrasonic shrieks and necromancy. To me, it was all in a blur, as I was barely alive, lying on the floor and gurgling the blood mixed with my venom. I don’t think I can hold on for much longer. The deaths of my warriors and her shrieks are taking a toll on me, although Sentaya’s other abilities do not touch me as I am a necromancer, too. One of the things I clearly saw while lying helpless on the ground and writhing in pain was Nexelex sidling behind Sentaya.

"You should all know how terrifying a Skybound Revenant is. It can fly, burrow, and possess immense power. "Necrobounds thrive on human vitality. If one of them successfully evolves into a Skybound Revenant, I'd say the death of tens of thousands of people would be a conservative estimate."

He smiles as he watches the head of the clan and everyone around that room dead and bathing with their blood that put him in utmost content. He who sacrifices his very soul and is bound into the chains and clutches of that God. The master of the dead, a necromancer, and an alchemist. He who is supposed to be dead yet is alive and continues to like a cycle of a jellyfish and two. He is greeted as his very creation and façade of an older sister, replies. “As your very wish, master.”

His breathing was shallow but steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only reminder that he was still here, still alive, still mine to claim. The scent of blood clung to the air like a storm that refused to pass. It drowned out everything else, seeping into me until it filled every corner of my senses. I could taste it still—sharp, sweet, maddening—and every breath I drew only fanned the fire clawing at my insides. I had witnessed the binding ritual performed countless times. I knew its weight, its consequences. But never—never—had I felt this.

His ultimate goal required an army of zombies that kept growing at an exponential rate, until there were so many that nothing could stand before them. At present, any bodies he reanimated were clumsy, slow moving creatures, but once he fully destroyed the seal, he expected that to change. Long dead corpses would always be slow, but the more recently deceased should be capable of moving almost as fast as living humans, making them far more dangerous. He wished he could have reached this level of success a century ago, before the armies of the world became so mightily armed with modern weapons of destruction. He was still learning back then, though, and he hadn’t had the black waziri to aid h

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.”