As they approached the palace, Zavet suddenly recognized a figure clad in the distinctive tabard of the Morning Glory knight order. The undead knight, still wearing the symbol of the order, seemed almost out of place among the others. “Hey, that’s the undead I created last time I was here,” Zavet exclaimed, a mixture of pride and nostalgia.
The knight turned towards Zavet, its lifeless eyes glowing faintly with recognition. “Master?” it rasped, bowing its head in respect.
Zavet grinned widely. “Hi! You should find Runner. He’d be happy to know you’re still around.”
The undead knight straightened, its senses suddenly sharpening as it picked up the faint scent of Runner. This unique ability was a direct result of having been created by Zavet; the undead under his command shared many of his abilities, becoming stronger as Zavet grew in power. Without another word, the knight turned and began to march purposefully toward the Krimlond house, its determination evident in every step.
Zavet watched the knight disappear into the distance, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I bet Runner will be happy to see his buddy,” he remarked to Talich.
Talich laughed, shaking his head. “Uhh, he’s probably going to try to kill him,” he said, amusement clear in his tone.
Zavet’s smile faltered as he looked back at Talich, confusion knitting his brows together. “Really?” he asked, unsure if Talich was serious or just messing with him.
Talich’s laughter grew louder, his amusement infectious. “Oh, definitely,” he chuckled, clapping Zavet on the shoulder as they continued on their way to the palace. The humor of the moment lightened the heavy atmosphere of the city.
The towering palace loomed before them, its dark spires reaching the sky, casting long shadows over the city. As Zavet and Talich approached the entrance, six knights of the Black Order stood in a disciplined line, their black armor gleaming dully in the low light. Each knight's face was obscured by helmets adorned with skeletal visages, and they carried massive two-handed swords, standing sentinel over the ancient stronghold.
Without a word, they bowed their heads in unison as Talich approached, recognizing him immediately. Their dark cloaks fluttered briefly in the wind as they stepped aside, granting Talich and Zavet entrance to the palace. Zavet couldn’t help but glance back at them as they crossed the threshold, feeling the weight of their presence.
Once inside, the palace's vast interior stretched out before them. Grand halls filled with towering pillars and intricate tapestries lined the stone walls. Their colors faded, but their intricate designs were still discernible. The air was thick with the scent of incense and centuries-old stone, mingled with the faint hint of magic lingering in the halls.
“Let’s not head to the throne room just yet,” Talich said, leading Zavet down a side corridor. “There’s something I want to show you first.”
They meandered through winding passageways, the echo of their footsteps the only sound that accompanied them. Talich pointed out various tapestries along the way, depicting pivotal historical moments, battles between dragons and elves, and the rise and fall of great kingdoms.
“I’ve shown you these tapestries before, but what do you think of them now?” Talich asked as they stopped before a huge one that dominated the hall. “You’ve learned a lot since you were last here. Look at it again. Tell me what you see.”
Zavet stepped forward, his eyes tracing the intricate designs woven into the fabric. His brow furrowed as he noticed something he hadn’t before. “These aren’t the same as I remember,” he muttered. “The dragons… they look different. They’re killing people. Are they… evil?”
Talich nodded, his expression grim. “The victors often write history. The Kingdom of Tiaghaneth teaches that the dragons were good and fought to rid the world of necromancers. They claim that the bronze elves were masters of necromancy. The dragons wiped them out. But that’s not the whole truth.”
Zavet glanced at Talich, intrigued. “What happened?”
“In reality,” Talich continued, “necromancy didn’t even exist until the dragon Nuri killed Ta-Ffairnutwati.”
“Ta-Ffair was her name,” came a familiar voice behind them, smooth and commanding.
Both Talich and Zavet jumped, turning quickly. Talich’s eyes widened as he immediately dropped into a deep bow. Leaning casually against the stone wall was Mah’nethotep, the ancient being’s presence commanding the room despite his relaxed posture. His eyes gleamed with knowledge and power, and he had a knowing smile on his lips.
Zavet’s face lit up with a smile. “Hey,” he greeted Mah’nethotep, the familiar warmth of their interactions returning.
Mah’nethotep returned the smile, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Come with me,” he said, gesturing toward a side door. “I have things to show you.”
Without hesitation, Zavet and Talich followed Mah’nethotep down another dimly lit corridor until they arrived at a large room. The room was furnished sparsely, but two portals shimmered ominously at the far end. Around a long table sat several familiar faces, including Vivian, Vlad, Vexx, and Krunk. However, Zavet’s eyes were immediately drawn to three unfamiliar figures beside them.
Talich’s face brightened with excitement as he recognized the trio. His booming voice filled the room. “Hey! Wow, it’s been too long! What, ten years now?”
One of the men, tall and gaunt with ashen skin and hollow eyes, stood and embraced Talich, slapping him on the back. His fingers were long and bony, and his cloak absorbed the light around him, making him look like a moving shadow. “Virek Shadowthorne,” Talich said with a grin, stepping back to look at him. “It’s been far too long.”
Virek’s voice was a husky whisper, his words sending chills down Zavet’s spine. “Hello, my old friend. It has indeed been many years, Master Talich.”
Virek stepped aside to allow Talich to greet the next group member. She stood up, her alabaster skin gleaming in the dim light, her crimson hair falling in loose waves around her face. Her eyes glowed with a deep red hue, and her attire, a tight, stitched-together dress made from human skin, exuded an aura of terror.
“Liora Morvayne,” Talich said, shaking his head in mock fear. “You look beautiful, but I think the proper word is ‘terrifying.’ You do know the Call of Heroes is in the city, right? They’re hunting for necromancers and undead.”
Liora smiled, her lips stained red with what could have been blood, and hugged Talich. “I’m not worried. Let them come. They’ll never find me,” she replied, her voice carrying a soft but menacing edge.
Talich laughed and turned to the last person at the table, but Zavet was already lost in her gaze. She was a short, slightly chubby woman with jet-black hair that flowed like living shadows around her pale face. Her violet eyes glowed faintly, drawing Zavet in like a moth to a flame. She wore a black silk robe embroidered with silver runes, her hands encased in delicate black lace gloves. But her smile captivated Zavet the most, soft, inviting, and somehow innocent and knowing.
“Hello,” she said, her voice like music to Zavet’s ears.
Zavet stared at her for too long before realizing he hadn’t spoken. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Zavet,” he stammered, internally wincing at his awkwardness. “What… uh… what name belongs to you?”
She giggled softly, her violet eyes never leaving his. “I belong to the name Thebe Nyx,” she replied, extending her hand.
Zavet shook her hand, holding onto it a bit too long. Her skin was warm and soft, and as he held her hand, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had some kind of supernatural allure. Was she a vampire? Had she cast some sort of spell on him? He shook the thoughts away, realizing she smelled faintly of rain and flowers, not the scent of the undead.
“Zavet?” someone called, breaking him out of his trance. He blinked, realizing he was still holding Thebe’s hand and everyone in the room was staring at him. He quickly let go, embarrassed.
“Huh? Sorry, I was… uh…” Zavet stammered, looking around for the source of the voice.
Talich burst out laughing, slapping Zavet on the back. “Oh, I know that look!” he said with a grin. “You’ve just seen the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, haven’t you?”
Zavet’s face turned pale as he glanced back at Thebe, who smiled knowingly.
Mah’nethotep's eyes gleamed as he cast a knowing wink in Zavet’s direction, a small but significant gesture that momentarily lightened the heavy atmosphere. The elf then straightened and addressed the room, his expression growing serious. His presence demanded attention, and all eyes turned toward him as his voice echoed through the chamber.
“I’ve called all of you here for a reason,” Mah’nethotep began, his deep voice resonating with authority. “We are about to become the target of the entire Call of Heroes.”
A murmur spread throughout the room, a ripple of unease passing through the gathered individuals. Even those seasoned in the darkest arts shifted in their seats at the mention of the Call of Heroes, a group renowned for their relentless pursuit of justice and their unwavering hatred for necromancers.
Mah’nethotep continued, undeterred. “I don’t know why they’ve been summoned here, but most will see us as enemies. And while they aren’t exactly wrong in their assumptions, we face a far more dangerous foe than them.”
He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. Zavet, Talich, and the others listened intently, waiting for him to reveal the threat looming over them all.
“Wispein is controlling Iscariot,” Mah’nethotep finally revealed, his voice carrying a weight. “She has twisted him into her puppet, using him to further her dark ambitions. If we don’t find a way to sever her connection to him, she will continue manipulating him, and If possible, we need to kill him.”
The room fell into a tense silence as Mah’nethotep’s words settled over the group. Zavet glanced at Talich, his thoughts racing. He had suspected there was more to Iscariot’s recent behavior, but Wispein’s involvement made the situation far more difficult than he had imagined. Zavet’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process the gravity of the situation.
Mah’nethotep’s gaze swept across the room, his eyes locking onto Talich and the rest of the kingdom’s representatives. “Your task will be to keep the Call of Heroes off our trail,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “We need them focused on the lords of necromancy, not us. We cannot afford to become the enemy in their eyes, not when Wispein is still out there, pulling the strings.”
Talich nodded, his face set with grim determination. He understood the importance of the task at hand and the weight of responsibility that had just been placed on their shoulders. The Call of Heroes was relentless; distracting them would require every ounce of cunning and skill they possessed.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Mah’nethotep continued, outlining the plan. “Create diversions, sow confusion. Misdirect their efforts. Make them believe that the lords of necromancy are their true enemy—and they are. Use whatever means necessary, but make sure their eyes are not on us.”
Liora, her crimson eyes glinting with amusement, leaned forward slightly. “I assume we have free rein when creating these… distractions?”
Mah’nethotep inclined his head. “Use your talents wisely, but do not draw unnecessary attention. We cannot afford to be seen as the aggressors in this conflict. Subtlety is key.”
Virek, his gaunt features shadowed by the dim light, nodded thoughtfully. “I can call upon some… allies from the shadows. They’ll be more than capable of sowing the chaos you’re asking for.”
Vivian, seated beside Talich, spoke up. “And what about Iscariot himself? If we can’t sever Wispein’s hold on him, killing him may be our only option. But do we have a plan for that?”
Mah’nethotep’s expression darkened. “Killing Iscariot will not be easy. He is deeply entrenched in Wispein’s magic, and any attempt to destroy him could backfire if we’re not careful. We must weaken their bond first, find the source of Wispein’s control, and sever it before we can strike.”
Zavet, who had been silent up until now, spoke up. “How do we even begin to break that connection? Wispein is powerful, and she’s been manipulating Iscariot for a long time.”
Mah’nethotep’s gaze softened slightly as he regarded Zavet. “That is where you come in, Zavet. You’ve encountered Wispein’s influence before and felt her presence. You must use that connection to our advantage, find the thread that ties them together, and unravel it.”
Zavet nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for such a task, but Mah’nethotep’s confidence in him reassured him.
“We don’t have much time,” Mah’nethotep said, his voice firm. “The Call of Heroes is already gathering, and they will not wait for us to act. We move quickly, or we fall.”
With that, the group dispersed, each member preparing for their roles in the coming conflict. Talich placed a hand on Zavet’s shoulder, offering him a brief but encouraging nod. “I want to introduce you to someone.” He puts his large hand on Vivian's Back. “This is my wife, Vivian. After the call of heroes releases us, we will go to My Home with Vivian. “
Vivian’s gaze shifted from Zavet to Talich, her eyes narrowing, and her voice carried a sharp edge. “So, this is the creature you abandoned your retirement for.”
Talich visibly flinched at her words, his shoulders slumping under her disappointment. He could feel the tension in the air thickening. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low, avoiding her piercing gaze. “I know I left in the middle of the night that day. I should have explained everything.”
Vivian's eyes, usually warm, now flickered with a hint of cold fire as she stared at him. “You waited an entire week to tell me what was happening,” she said, her tone biting. “Do you have any idea what that felt like, Talich? Without a word, you left me and your two children to play father to this… lizard.”
Talich’s head dropped even lower, the guilt gnawing at him. He knew he had failed her then, leaving without considering the impact on his family.
Zavet, feeling the shift in the air but not fully understanding the depth of the conversation, spoke up in his usual, innocent manner. “I didn’t know Talich had a mate or little ones,” he said, his eyes wide with curiosity. “I thought fathers kept their family safe by keeping bad things away, and mothers were the ones who taught and fed the babies.”
Vivian's eyes darkened for a brief, almost imperceptible moment, a flash of anger boiling to the surface. But she restrained herself, recognizing Zavet’s naivety. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she sighed, the fury subsiding as quickly as it had risen. “I will disregard that,” she said coldly, “because you are only a child and do not understand. But know this: you will be taught properly when you come to my home.”
Zavet blinked, not fully grasping the gravity of her words but sensing the tension in the room. He glanced at Talich, unsure of what to say next, while Talich stood there, silent, weighed down by the consequences of his actions.
Vivian’s voice carried an edge of finality as she spoke, “For now, we must do what we were called here to do. Don’t worry about our children. The servants are watching after them.”
Talich, standing beside her, tilted his head slightly, his expression filled with concern. “Krimlond is using your family home as a base,” he reminded her, his tone respectful yet hesitant.
Vivian’s sharp gaze snapped to him, her piercing blue eyes narrowing with the kind of glare that made servants tremble and lesser nobles falter. “Then they will make room for me, won’t they!” she retorted, her voice cutting through the air like a dagger.
Talich, ever the obedient husband, bowed his head in submission. “Yes, my love. I’ll head there immediately and clear out our room.” Without another word, he swiftly turned and left the keep, his cloak trailing behind him as he moved with purpose toward Krimlond’s base, leaving Zavet standing awkwardly in the tense silence.
Once Talich was out of earshot, Zavet shifted uncomfortably before speaking. “Hey, don’t be too hard on him,” he said, his voice gentle, though there was a faint hint of defensiveness.
Vivian’s gaze shifted to Zavet, and though her expression softened slightly, it still carried a coolness that made him uneasy. “Little lizard,” she began, her voice calm yet filled with a quiet intensity. “His heart is too big for his body. He has this... maddening habit of putting others before himself, before his own family. That’s one of the reasons I love him—he’s noble, selfless—but there are times when it feels like everyone else is more important to him than we are.”
She took a slow, measured breath before continuing. “If you ever find yourself in love, remember this—your family should always be the most important thing in your life. You may be insignificant in the eyes of the world, just one more person in a sea of many. But to your family, you are everything. The world will always find someone to save it, Zavet, but your family? They need you.”
Vivian’s words cut deep into Zavet’s soul, the weight of them sinking into his mind, where they would remain forever etched as a core memory. He found himself at a loss for words, his usual quick wit silenced by the gravity of her wisdom. Instead, he slowly walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, replaying her words in his head, over and over, trying to comprehend the full depth of what she had said.
As he sat, quietly reflecting, the muffled sounds of Vlad, Vexx, and Krunk’s conversation reached his ears, pulling him from his thoughts.
“So, Runner and Alley are together now,” Krunk said in a low voice, his tone carrying a hint of malice.
“Good,” Vlad replied with a sneer. “We can get them both tonight. I owe her a few deaths.”
Zavet remained silent, his eyes downcast, but his mind sharpened, ears straining to hear more. He could sense the darkness in their words, the underlying threat. Vexx, noticing Zavet's presence, raised a finger to his lips in a subtle gesture, signaling the others to keep quiet. They exchanged knowing glances, assuming that Zavet was lost in his thoughts, paying no attention to their conversation. But Zavet, now fully alert, had caught every word.
Zavet kept his expression calm, masking the unease that simmered beneath his surface as he listened to the dark conversation between Vlad, Vexx, and Krunk. He knew better than to react, waiting patiently for them to leave before he made his move. Once the trio exited, Zavet rose from his chair, determination settling in his bones. He moved quickly through the halls, his destination clear: Mah’nethotep.
Finding the ancient being wasn’t difficult. Mah’nethotep often preferred solitude, his presence imposing yet subtle. Zavet approached him, hesitant but resolute. “Hey, uh... do I call you Master?” he asked, his voice low, unsure of the protocol when speaking to a god-like figure.
Mah’nethotep’s face softened, a faint smile curling his lips as he shook his head. “Would you like to be one of my followers, Zavet?” he asked in a lighthearted tone, raising a brow with playful curiosity. “They are the ones who call me Master. But if you’d prefer, you can call me Neth. My family, including Ta’Fair, called me that. It's a bit less formal, don’t you think?”
Zavet shrugged, his casual demeanor hiding the whirlwind of thoughts racing in his mind. “I don’t know if I want to follow you around,” he admitted, glancing away briefly. “I mean, I still need to help Talich, Runner, and Lina. And I’ve been thinking… I want to talk to Iscariot. I think he should tell that Wyspein person to leave him alone. I feel like he’s too caught up in something dangerous.”
Mah’nethotep considered Zavet’s words momentarily before responding, his face adopting a thoughtful expression. He raised an eyebrow as he responded, his voice deep and commanding but still holding a warmth that made Zavet feel safe. “Well, I have no issue with that. But just remember, I need you to use that portal every morning. You need to study with Tear. After lunch, you can help Talich and the others. But you must attend school, Zavet. If you miss too many days, I will find you and bring you to him personally. Do you understand me?”
Zavet nodded earnestly, a grin breaking across his face. “Yeah, I get it. I like Tear. He’s funny, and I enjoyed his classes. I think I’m learning a lot.”
Mah’nethotep chuckled, clearly amused by Zavet’s enthusiasm. With a flick of his hand, a ring appeared, small yet intricately detailed, with faint engravings of ancient symbols glowing softly. He handed it to Zavet. “Here,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter, almost tender. “If you put this on and think of Tear, it will bring you to him. I made this for you a few days ago. I need you to learn and understand the Way.”
He then elbowed Zavet playfully, a grin flashing across his face. “Oh, and by the way... she likes you.”
Zavet blinked, confused for a second. “She?”
“Thebe,” Mah’nethotep clarified. “You know who I’m talking about. You’re both young, and I think you’ll grow fond of each other over time. The look you gave her was the same one I gave Ta’Fair when I first met her. I still remember that feeling... thousands of years later, and it hasn’t faded. When I think about her, it’s like it was only yesterday. I still dream about her.”
His voice trailed off slightly as if lost in thought, and Zavet felt the weight of his words. There was a depth of experience in Mah’nethotep’s voice, something ancient that Zavet could only imagine. But Mah’nethotep’s following words brought him back to reality, grounding the conversation in something much more personal.
“Did you know Talich and his children are of my blood?” Mah’nethotep said, his voice calm yet brimming with pride. “He’s directly related to me. While my family tree is massive, Talich is one of the few who can trace his bloodline directly back to Ta’Fair and me. Thebe is another of my blood, a cousin of sorts. I keep a close eye on my children.”
Mah’nethotep’s expression softened as he continued, his gaze holding Zavet’s. “What Vivian told you earlier was the truth. Family is the most important thing you’ll ever have. Even more than your accomplishments and the world’s admiration or scorn. The world will always find someone to save it, but your family... they need you. And you, Zavet, are my family too. Even more so than Talich or Thebe. In many ways, you’re like a son to me. Though you have a mother and father, my magic has shaped you into what you are now. My blood, in a way, flows through you as well.”
Zavet’s breath caught in his throat. The weight of Mah’nethotep’s words settled over him like a mantle, the realization that this ancient being considered him family. He looked down at the ring in his hand, the glow of the symbols faint but steady. His heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude, responsibility, and a sense of belonging that he had never quite felt before.
A thought crossed Zavet's mind, one that had been gnawing at him for a while. He hesitated before speaking, glancing at Mah’nethotep. “Hey, could you make me a ring that lets me visit my family? You know, back where I first became… well, like this.” He gestured to his lizard-like form, his voice softer than usual, as if unsure of how Mah’nethotep would respond.
Mah’nethotep’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “I tell you what,” he said with a slight grin, “I will make that ring for you... but first, I need you to do something for me.” With a flick of his wrist, Mah’nethotep conjured a small piece of parchment, the ink on it swirling with strange symbols and glyphs. He handed it to Zavet, who stared at the paper, his face wrinkling in confusion.
“What is this?” Zavet asked, turning it over as if the back would reveal some secret.
Mah’nethotep paused, tilting his head slightly in realization. “Ah, that’s right. You can’t read, can you?”
Zavet scratched his head, embarrassed but trying to shrug it off. “Well, I’ve started learning, but... not very well. When I look at them, the letters and numbers move around too much.”
Mah’nethotep gave a knowing nod, stroking his chin. “I forget sometimes that creatures created through magic—like yourself—can have a different perception of written language. Your eyes don’t see words the same way the rest of us do. Your ‘R’s probably become ‘N’s, and fives look like ‘S’s to you, don’t they?”
Zavet blinked, surprised at how accurately Mah’nethotep described his problem. “Yeah... exactly like that,” he muttered, feeling a bit relieved to have someone understand his struggle.
“I’ll make sure to remind Tear about this,” Mah’nethotep added thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his chin. “We’ll find a way to help you with that, but for now, you’ll need someone to read the list for you.”
Zavet felt a rush of gratitude but also a wave of determination. He wasn’t going to let this setback stop him. “Thanks, Neth,” he said earnestly. But before he could say anything more, Mah’nethotep waved his hand dismissively and walked away, leaving Zavet alone with the task.
Zavet stood there for a moment, staring at the parchment in his hand. The strange symbols swam before his eyes, morphing into incomprehensible shapes. He let out a sigh. There was no use trying to decipher it. Instead, he tucked the paper into his pouch, resolving to find someone who could help him with it later.
For now, he had more urgent matters to deal with, namely Vlad, Vexx, and Krunk. He had overheard their sinister plot, and if he didn’t act fast, something terrible could happen. He needed to find Runner and Alley and warn them about the danger lurking in the shadows.