The Necromancer Legacies Novels & Stories

Talia revealed. "And since she bears the same name..." "It therefore means she's actually now the head of that clan. And she is totally unaware of it," Talia concluded. I sighed softly, pondering for a bit. "The Morgalis played a key role in trying to exterminate werewolves, offspring of the Shadow Guards of Vadar. Her emergence could as well mean the resurgence of that ancient war," I reasoned. "Maybe. And maybe not," Talia said. And she was right.

The girl, who prided and found pleasure in coning sugar daddies with her late boyfriend. The fifteenth law of power…All great leaders since Moses have known that a feared enemy must be crushed completely, if one amber is left alight, no matter how dimly it smolders a fire will eventually break out. More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation. The enemy will recover and will seek revenge. Crush him, not only in body but in spirit.

I tried to cry out, but my throat was too raw, my voice lost in the agony. Deeper and deeper we went. Into the darkness. The room she dragged us into was something out of a nightmare. Bones—everywhere. Piles of them, scattered across the floor, some still wrapped in rotting flesh. Candles lined the walls, their flames casting long, stretching shadows that danced like living things. Strange tools lay on wooden tables—blades, hooks, rusted saws. The worst part? The bodies. Seven of them, pinned up against the walls like twisted trophies.

Their impulses could be overridden, their wills redirected, their memories rewritten. It wasn’t just control. It was ownership. Rhett leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. He could almost see Weston in his mind’s eye, that cold half-smile, the one that spoke of inevitabilities and debts unpaid. The man had always been obsessed with legacy, but this… this was beyond obsession. This was necromancy by way of genetics.

Necromancer? "She can raise zombies, talk to ghosts and other dead, and she can heal the undead. Useful to have around. She's our primary conduit to Jeremiah." "Which one's he?"

"What of it?" "In the past there was a group called necromancers, they were vampires who discovered a way to become stronger through drinking the right type of blood" Raphael gave her a glance "Every being on earth has their own special blood, but drink that of a high alpha werewolf, and a noble vampire, it opens a whole new world of possibility" "What does a necromancer do?" Rebecca asked. "Dark magic, bring the dead back to life, some want to use its power to conquer the world, me, I want to cure the vampire curse"

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?”

~ KATALEYA ~ “Necromancy is one of the deadliest abilities one can possess. One that no one on this earth should ever have been given access to. It doesn’t just raise the dead. It twists the very basis of reality. It callously tears at the veil between life and death. Those who practice it aren’t just summoning spirits. They, like Mama said, rip the spirits from eternal rest, warping their very essence into something vile and inhumane. The dead do not return as they were, but as hollow, tormented shadows, bound by the twisted will of the necromancer.”

“Say what you came to say.” Varian tilted his head. “The dead want you, brother. They want their Alpha back.” The ground shook. From behind the heirs’ army, the snow split. Bones clawed their way up. Old armor rattled. Wolves with matted fur and glowing red eyes pulled themselves from the earth. Necromancy. On a scale Malric couldn’t have dreamed of. A hundred undead stood between the heirs and the gates. Ryn cursed. “Gods, I hate magic.”

I keep remembering Brendan’s legs giving out, can hear the pleading in his voice, can see the fear and the look of utter betrayal on his face. I heal the mage and step over him to go inside, but Adrian grabs me and pulls me back. “Don’t. They’re all dead.” “Maybe I can-” “What? Resurrect them?” “Is that something I can do?” I ask hopefully “Maybe, but...necromancy is not something you want to play around with, Pippa. You’re powerful, but you’re not God.” “So it can be done?” “Yes, but you’ll only reanimate their corpses. They’ll have no souls. Do you understand? No conscience, no emotions…just a mindless creature surviving on pure instinct.”