The common room in Krimlond was packed to the brim, the air thick with tension and the scent of burning torches. Merlot stood at the center of the room, his imposing figure casting long shadows across the stone walls. He was surrounded by a sea of bodies, the barons, knights, and nobles of the kingdom all crammed into the space, with Solond's sixty members adding to the chaos. Most were standing, their voices rising in a cacophony of accusations and frustrations. The room buzzed with barely restrained anger, the heated discussions threatening to boil over into violence.

On one side of the room, Lina stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes darting between the faces of the gathered lords. Her short stature did nothing to diminish her presence, and her twin silver short swords hung at her sides like silent threats. Nearby, Edmond, the burly leader of Solond, swayed slightly, the remnants of a hangover visible in his bloodshot eyes. The Solond members, dressed in their quartered black and yellow tabards, grumbled, casting dark looks at the Erenlond delegation. Across from them, the members of Razlond, with their more regal bearing, stood with a cold, measured silence, their faces betraying no emotion.

The kingdom's other nobles, the Dukes and Duchesses, each representing one of the four regions under the crown, were seated at a long table, their faces drawn with concern. The kingdom was divided into these regions, each governed by one of these influential figures. Beneath them, the baronies—including Solond, Razlond, Erenlond, and Krimlond had always served as the backbone of the kingdom's might. But now, in the aftermath of the recent disasters, their unity was unraveling.

Merlot raised his hands, his voice commanding and clear as he attempted to restore order. “Everyone, let's quiet down,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “I know you have questions. I promise I have answers.” His words did little to calm the room, but the respect he commanded forced a momentary lull in the clamor.

“Yes,” Merlot continued, his tone grave, “the call of the heroic souls has been reactivated. And no, we did not do it. It was Adair, the guardian of our world. And yes, this one is permanent until Adair .”

At this, the room exploded into chaos. Voices clashed and collided as accusations flew from every corner. Solond's members were the loudest, their anger directed squarely at Krimlond. “This is Krimlond's doing!” one of them shouted, their words echoed by several others. On the other side, the Erenlond members turned their ire toward Merlot, blaming him for allowing necromancers to fight alongside them in the war. The accusations only fueled the flames of discord, hurling insults and threats across the room.

Merlot's patience snapped, his voice booming over the din with a force that silenced the room. “Enough!” he roared, his fists clenched at his sides. The room fell into a tense silence, all eyes locked on the Razlond leader. “If it's anyone's fault, it's the druids,” he declared, his voice icy with anger. “Which leads to the next task at hand. Druids are not in charge of this kingdom. If you are a druid, report to me—not your High Druid or whatever tree creature controls you. They caused this earthquake.”

A murmur of shock rippled through the room, but Merlot pressed on, his gaze hardening as he looked at the Erenlond contingent. “While we already claimed Solond, Razlond, Krimlond, and defended the keeps from the lords, the Erenlond barony lost their keep and decided to go tell the High Druid what was happening. Apparently, they were told the kingdom was lost. So he caused the earthquake. Quite frankly, I don't like an individual having that much power over my kingdom.”

The Erenlond members protested, blaming Krimlond for telling Lavender those lies. Their voices rose once more, but before they could overwhelm the room again, Lina stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “Flynn did that of his own free will,” she said, her words cutting through the noise. “He lost his mind during the fight and accused some of us of being undead. We had to subdue him. He later broke out.”

Merlot nodded in agreement, his expression grim. “Yes, Flynn and Lavender are in the dungeon. But that leads us to our next problem. All of the prisoners that were in the dungeon before the earthquake are missing.” A hush fell over the room as the implications of his words sank in. “The earthquake left a massive ravine where the dungeon once was,” Merlot continued, his tone heavy with the weight of the situation. “So yes, all of those necromancers who did terrible things are loose.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone present. The kingdom, already battered and bruised from the war and the earthquake, now faced an even greater threat that could unravel everything they had fought to protect.

As the meeting concluded, the tension in the air lingered like a storm that had only just passed. Lina, her mind racing with thoughts, stepped out of the crowded common room and made her way toward the tents pitched just outside the keep. The weight of the day's discussions still hung heavy on her shoulders, but there was one more matter she needed to address. She had just thought of Talich’s wife, Vivian, the head of a noble house and conspicuously absent from the meeting. Her curiosity piqued, and Lina decided to seek out Talich and inquire about her.

The night was cool, with a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as Lina walked through the camp. A few soldiers and camp followers were gathered around a fire, its flickering flames casting long shadows on the ground. Among them were Runner and Alley, seated close together, their heads bent in hushed conversation. Lina couldn’t help but smile as she noticed how they looked at each other, their eyes filled with the unmistakable spark of new affection. She made a mental note to tease them later about their puppy dog eyes, but for now, her thoughts were focused on finding Talich.

Lina scanned the area, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. She spotted some of Talich’s belongings scattered near a tent on the edge of the camp, and she made her way toward it. The tent was modest, with a few personal items placed outside: a worn leather satchel, a cloak draped over a makeshift chair, and Talich’s distinctive sword resting against a stump. Satisfied that she had found the right place, Lina lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.

The dim light from a single lantern revealed a figure lying under a thick blanket. At first glance, Lina thought it was Talich, but something about the shape and size of the figure made her pause. The person beneath the blanket was much smaller than Talich. A thought crossed her mind: could it be Vivian? The petite woman, known for her diminutive stature, could easily be mistaken for a child if one wasn't paying close attention.

Lina’s heart softened as she recalled their shared history. She and Vivian had been childhood friends, bound by a deep understanding and mutual respect. Vivian had always been fascinated by the mystical arts, particularly divination and the ancient practices of necromancy. This interest, coupled with her formidable intellect, had drawn her to Talich, a man seventy years her senior but whose extended lifespan had preserved his youthful appearance. Despite the age difference, their bond was undeniable, and Lina had always admired how they complemented each other.

Smiling to herself, Lina decided to surprise her old friend. She slipped under the blanket, ready to whisper a playful greeting, but the moment she did, she realized something was wrong. The body she touched wasn’t warm and soft like Vivian’s; instead, it was rough, covered in scales, and unnervingly cold. A jolt of fear shot through Lina, her voice catching in her throat as she managed to gasp, “Who?”

But before she could react further, the figure beneath the blanket moved with a speed and strength that took her completely off guard. Glowing red eyes snapped open, burning with an unnatural light that sent a chill down her spine. The next moment, powerful hands wrapped around her throat, crushing her windpipe with terrifying force. Lina struggled, her mind reeling in shock and confusion, but it was futile. The strength wasn’t human, it was something else, something dark and twisted, fueled by a power that Zavet himself had yet to understand fully.

Zavet’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. The command, instilled deep within him, had taken over completely. As Lina’s life slipped away, her body went limp, and the light faded from her eyes. The moment her neck snapped, Zavet was released from the thrall, his mind clearing just in time to witness the horrific result of his actions. Horror and guilt washed over him as he saw Lina’s lifeless body crumpled beneath him. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of what he had done pressed down on him like a vice.

But the nightmare wasn’t over. Before he could process the full extent of his actions, Lina’s body began to twitch, the necromantic energy still lingering in the air. Her skin grew pale and cold, her eyes opening once more, now glazed over with the empty stare of the undead. Panic surged through Zavet, and he acted on instinct. With a swift, decisive motion, he killed her again, this time ensuring that she would not rise once more.

Zavet stumbled out of the tent, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked around frantically, his mind racing. Had anyone seen what had just happened? He had to know. Spotting Runner by the campfire, he hurried over, trying to keep his voice steady despite the terror gnawing at his insides.

“Hey, Runner,” Zavet whispered, his voice barely audible.

Runner looked up from his conversation with Alley, his brow furrowing in concern. “You okay?” he asked, noting the fear in Zavet’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Zavet replied, forcing a weak smile. “Just checking to see who came into my tent a second ago.”

Runner gave him a puzzled look. “I didn’t see anyone. Maybe it was a dream?”

Zavet nodded, though the fear in his eyes betrayed his unease. “Maybe… maybe it was,” he mumbled, glancing back toward the tent. The image of Lina’s lifeless body was seared into his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that clung to him like a second skin. “I’m going to put up my own tent,” he added suddenly, the need to distance himself from the scene of the crime overwhelming him. “Can you show me how to do it?”

Runner’s expression softened, though a flicker of irritation crossed his face at the prospect of setting up a tent in the dark. But his frustration melted away when he saw the terror etched on Zavet’s face in the firelight. “Sure,” Runner said, his voice gentler now. “Let’s get it done.”

The two of them worked in silence; the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the distant murmurs of the camp. It took longer than usual, the dim firelight making the task more difficult, but eventually, they managed to set up the tent. By the time they finished, most of the camp had settled down for the night, the once-bustling camp now quiet and still.

As they stood in the dark, the reality of what had transpired weighed heavily on Zavet’s shoulders. The night had swallowed up his secret for now, but the darkness that had awakened within him was something he could not escape. The terror of what he had done and the power that had driven him to it would haunt him long after the fires died.

Zavet lay in his tent, the weight of the night’s events pressing heavily on his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lina’s lifeless face staring back at him, her eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Sleep eluded him, his mind too restless to find any peace. The guilt gnawed at him, a relentless force that kept him awake long into the night.

By the time the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Zavet knew there would be no sleep for him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind linger on what had happened. The only way to push the memories aside was to exhaust himself to the point where he no longer had the capacity to think, to remember, or to distinguish between nobles and commoners. If he were delirious with fatigue, perhaps the dark thoughts would leave him, if only for a while.

As the sun began to crest over the camp, painting the sky with hues of gold and pink, Zavet couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to get out and lose himself in work—any work that would keep him away from the others, especially those he knew to be nobles. The thought of being near them, seeing their faces, and remembering what he had done was too much to bear.

Quietly, he gathered his things, his movements careful not to disturb the stillness of the early morning. His heart pounded as he scribbled a crude map on a scrap of parchment, marking an X where he planned to work for the day. His mind was so clouded by exhaustion and guilt that he didn’t realize he had mistakenly marked the Razlond district, thinking it was the opposite side of the camp. He pinned the map to the outside Runner’s tent, hoping it would be found without too much scrutiny.

With that task done, Zavet began to walk in the direction he believed would take him farthest away from Lina’s resting place and the other nobles. The morning air was cool, but he hardly noticed it, his mind too consumed by the need to occupy himself. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the few people already up and about, their faces blurring together in his mind.

As he made his way through the camp, Zavet’s attention was drawn to a group of Solond members hurrying away from something. Their movements were frantic, almost panicked as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime. His curiosity piqued, Zavet slowed, his eyes narrowing as he watched them disappear into the distance. Something about the way they moved sent a chill down his spine.

Cautiously, Zavet approached the area they had just vacated. His eyes scanned the ground, and soon, he spotted what they had left behind: a body lying motionless in the dirt. A knot of dread formed in his stomach as he crept closer, every step a battle against the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.

As he neared the body, Zavet’s breath caught in his throat. He recognized the signs immediately: the pallor of the skin, the unnatural stillness that preceded the inevitable. The person was turning, the necromantic energy taking hold, reanimating the dead flesh into something monstrous. Without hesitation, Zavet drew his blade and put the undead creature down with a swift and practiced motion before it could fully rise.

He stood over the body, breathing heavily as he wiped the blade clean. His mind was racing, the sight of the corpse stirring a storm of thoughts. The Solond members had fled the scene, leaving the body behind. But why? Zavet crouched down, examining the body more closely. The man’s weapons and items were missing, stripped away before he had turned. The realization hit Zavet like a punch to the gut.

“I just witnessed them kill someone,” he thought to himself, his mind reeling. “Looks like they stole his weapons and items.”

The idea made Zavet’s blood run cold. The Solond members had murdered this man and left him to become undead, scavenging what they could from his body like vultures. Anger and disgust welled inside Zavet, mingling with the guilt and fear already festering in his heart. The city was becoming a twisted reflection of the horrors outside its walls, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something far darker was lurking beneath the surface.

He pushed on, knowing he could not do anything to them in his state. He could not turn them in because he knew he would need to. Eventually, I talked to a noble. So he went to the area he marked and started to sniff out undead.

Runner stirred awake, his senses slowly returning as he felt the warmth of another body beside him. He blinked, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the tent, and saw Alley lying beside him, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Her body, toned and hardened from years of rigorous training, mirrored his own. He stared at her for a long moment, a mixture of admiration and guilt playing across his mind. They had shared a connection, something more profound than just the physical, but the weight of the world outside the tent loomed large, and he could already hear the distant murmur of voices.

Suddenly, a sharp conversation broke through the morning quiet, snapping Runner out of his thoughts. "Did you hear? Someone killed Baroness Lina right after the meeting. They’re asking about Talich and Zavet’s whereabouts!" The words hit him like a cold splash of water, and he bolted upright, his heart pounding. He scrambled to get dressed, his movements frantic as he pulled on his clothes with shaky hands.

Alley stirred beside him, sensing his urgency. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“No time to explain,” Runner muttered as he pulled on his boots. “I have to go.” He leaned down, kissed her forehead, and rushed out of the tent before she could say anything more.

The morning air hit him like a tremendous slap, bracing against his skin. As Runner stepped outside, his eyes immediately caught sight of a piece of parchment pinned to the outside of his tent. It was a crude map, hastily drawn, with an X marking a spot. Without thinking, he snatched it up and pocketed it, too preoccupied with the news of Lina’s death to fully process what it meant.

He sprinted through the camp, weaving between tents and dodging those beginning to stir for the day. His mind raced as he tried to understand what he’d just heard. Lina, dead? How could that be? And why were they looking for Talich and Zavet? His thoughts were a tangled mess as he finally reached the spot where a group of Krimlond members had gathered.

Lina stood with Hoat and the rest of the Krimlond contingent, looking grim and determined. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of fear, anger, and confusion swirling around them. Runner forced himself to stay calm as he approached, knowing that anything he said could have serious consequences.

“Hey,” he called out, interrupting their conversation. The group turned to look at him, their expressions a mix of relief and suspicion.

“Runner,” Lina greeted him, her voice tight. “Have you seen Talich or Zavet?”

Runner nodded, trying to keep his tone casual. “Yeah, Talich left to talk to his Knight master last night.” He chose his words carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. Technically, Talich wasn’t a knight, but he is a retired dark knight who is close enough.

Lina’s eyes narrowed slightly. “When did he leave?”

Runner swallowed, his mind racing to piece together a believable timeline. “About an hour or so before the meeting ended. Zavet was asleep in his tent when I last saw him. We spent most of the night setting it up.”

Hoat, who had been watching Runner closely, held up a small vial filled with a clear liquid. “Would you drink this and tell us that again?” Runner recognized it immediately—a truth serum. He’d seen it used during his knight training as a tool to weed out lies and deceit. The implications were clear: they didn’t fully trust him.

“Yeah, of course,” Runner replied without hesitation, trying to keep his voice steady. He took the vial from Hoat, uncorked it, and downed the contents in one quick gulp. The liquid was bitter, burning slightly as it went down. He closed his eyes, waiting for the familiar sensation to wash over him, and then he repeated his story. “Talich left to talk to his master about an hour before the meeting ended last night. Zavet was asleep when I left him in his tent. It took us well into the early morning to get it done.”

Hoat nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Well, we know Runner isn’t immune to the serum,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice.

Lina, however, wasn’t done. She studied Runner closely, her gaze piercing. “Did you see me come out of the keep last night?”

Runner shook his head, trying to mask his growing anxiety. “Sorry I didn’t see you.”

Lina sighed, frustration evident in her voice. “My things were still in my room. I would’ve grabbed at least a sword if I were leaving the keep. So it must have been someone inside the keep who did this.”

Gauges’s head dropped, a look of realization dawning on his face. “Oh man, it could have been one of the old members of Krimlond, the ones who got locked up for consulting and creating undead.”

Lina’s expression darkened as she nodded. “Yeah, they might know a way into the keep. If that’s the case, we have a bigger problem.”

The group fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation sinking in. Runner’s mind was spinning, trying to process everything. Lina’s murder, the suspicions around Talich and Zavet, the possibility of undead infiltrators, it was all too much. But one thing was clear: they were dealing with forces far beyond their control, and if they didn’t act quickly, the entire kingdom could be at risk.

The truth serum’s effects still lingered in Runner’s system, making it difficult to hide his fear. He knew he had to be careful, that any misstep could lead to disaster. But as the conversation continued around him, one thought kept nagging at the back of his mind: What had Zavet been doing last night?

As the morning light grew more robust, the tense atmosphere that had gripped the camp began to ease. After a round of questioning and gathering information, Lina seemed more at ease. She had pieced together enough of the night's events to form a clearer picture and was ready to move forward. With a nod to the group, she spoke up, her voice carrying a note of finality.

“Thank you all for your help. I’m sorry for the interruption,” Lina said, her tone sincere. “We’ve got a lot to process, but I think we’re starting to get a handle on things.” She turned to Gauge, standing nearby, and gave him a reassuring nod before heading toward the tents. “Let’s go find some breakfast,” she added, the exhaustion of the morning catching up with her.

Gauge stepped beside her, his relief palpable as the questioning finally drew to a close. “Sounds good,” he muttered, his stomach growling at the thought of food.

As they made their way to the camp, the smell of cooking greeted them, a comforting contrast to the tension that had dominated the last few hours. They soon spotted Runner and Alley near a small fire, where the scent of roasting potatoes and eggs wafted through the air. The sight of the two, already preparing breakfast, brought a sense of sorely needed normalcy.

Runner looked up as they approached, offering a tired but welcoming smile. “Lina, Gauge, come join us,” he called out, motioning to the space around the fire. “We’ve got more than enough to go around.”

Lina and Gauge exchanged a glance before nodding in agreement. After their morning, the idea of sitting down to a meal with friends was far more appealing than eating alone. They settled down beside the fire, the warmth from the flames a pleasant contrast to the cool morning air.

“Thanks,” Lina said as she accepted a plate from Alley, who had been busy portioning the food. “It’s been a rough morning already, and we could use the break.”

Gauge nodded as he took his plate, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the exhaustion in his eyes. “It’s been a lot, but I’m glad we’re getting a handle on things.”

As they began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally, the earlier tension easing away with each bite. The potatoes were perfectly crispy, the eggs soft and savory, and it was a simple meal, but it was exactly what they needed. Runner took a moment to glance around at the group, feeling a sense of gratitude for the camaraderie they shared, even during all the chaos.

“So, any updates on what happened last night?” Alley asked, breaking the comfortable silence. She looked between Lina and Gauge, her curiosity piqued despite the seriousness of the situation.

Lina took a bite of her food before responding. “We’re still piecing things together, but it’s looking like the prisoners who escaped the dungeon might be behind it. There was suspicion on Talich and Zavet, but we’ve cleared that up. I did not think it was one of them. But last night, I had Harley come out here and investigate, and she said all two of them were working on a tent, and Talich was gone. So Talich became high on the list. But it could not have been him if he had left while I was still in the meeting unless he came back. Even then, I thought, how did he get inside the keep? After everyone left, Teric said he revoked the ward controls from everyone but our current members.”

“Yeah, that was a close call,” Runner added, remembering the tension when he had to prove their innocence. “It was getting pretty intense there for a minute.”

Gauge nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll need to keep an eye out, though. If those prisoners are loose, they’re bound to cause more trouble. But at least we’ve got a direction to go in now.”

Alley, who had been listening intently, nodded in agreement. “ But at least we’re not completely in the dark anymore.”

The conversation shifted after that, moving away from the grim topics of the morning and focusing more on lighter subjects, stories from past battles, jokes shared between friends, and plans for the day ahead. The fire crackled gently, the food warmed them from the inside out, and for a little while, the world's troubles seemed a little more manageable.

Lina looked around at her companions with a small smile as the meal wound down. “Thanks, everyone,” she said, her voice carrying a note of sincerity. “We have work today. If you and Runner would join Merlot in working with Zavet, that would be wonderful. His Majesty wants to help Zavet find our citizens personally. “ Runner's eyes go wide. “Oh, uh, sure, let me go find Zavet first before His Majesty wastes his time looking for him.”

Lina nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful. "I'll send him back to his tent by the Razlond embassy. Oh, and can you have Zavet find the Queen? If he does, it will mean a lot to His Majesty."

Runner nodded, understanding the weight of the request. He stood up, signaling to Alley that it was time to go. As he strapped on some of his armor, the familiar weight of his gear brought a sense of purpose. He left his father’s sword in the tent, opting instead for his old two-hander—a weapon that had seen him through countless battles.

Alley quickly gathered her things, her eyes meeting Runner's with a silent agreement. They had work to do. The two of them made their way to the area marked with an X on the crude map Zavet had left behind. The journey was tense, filled with the distant sounds of the camp waking up and the occasional groan of the undead still wandering the ruins.

When they arrived at the marked location, they found Zavet hard at work. He was a whirlwind of activity, clearing the roads and killing any undead that crossed his path. His strength was evident in every move—he picked up large slabs of stone wall as if they were nothing, throwing them aside quickly to make the path clear.

Runner called out to him as they approached, "Hey, Zavet! They’re going to give you a team of people. They just want you to mark where the survivors or bodies are, and we’ll handle the digging."

Zavet paused in his work, turning to face Runner with a nod of approval. "I like that. That would be great," he replied, his voice calm but filled with determination.

Alley waved at Zavet, flashing him a reassuring smile. "I’ll go get the team. Oh, and Runner, can you gather some sticks and cloth from the fallen houses around here? Just don’t take too much—the people who lived here will still want their things once we rebuild."

Runner nodded, watching her as she turned to leave. He admired how she took charge, her confidence a steadying force in the chaos. As she disappeared into the distance, Runner set to work, carefully gathering what he needed without disturbing too much of the ruins. The streets were filled with remnants of lives interrupted, and he knew how important it was to respect that.

Alley made her way to Merlot’s tent, her pace quick but controlled. As she arrived, she saw Merlot stepping out, dressed plainly in trousers and a tunic. Nothing on him indicated his noble status; in fact, he looked like just another member of the camp, which was a deliberate choice. Two members of Razlond accompanied him, both similarly dressed in plain clothes, with only short swords and small bucklers hooked to their waistbands. Sir Ulrich, an imposing figure even in simple attire, was also with them.

Alley greeted them with a nod. "We’re going to need to be cautious out there," she began, her tone serious. "With the new threat of these prisoners, we’re going by different names. So, think of new names, and don’t reference anyone as a noble. We don’t want any added difficulties."

Merlot and the others exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable but clearly understanding the necessity of the precaution. The gravity of the situation had everyone on edge, and Alley’s directive was a sharp reminder that they were in a warzone where any mistake could be deadly.

Merlot was the first to speak, a thoughtful look on his face. "Understood. You can call me Clive."

With the team assembled Alley led them back toward the area where Zavet and Runner were working. The tension was palpable as they approached, each group member preparing themselves mentally for the task ahead. They moved with purpose, their steps careful but determined. The morning sun cast long shadows over the ruins, a stark reminder of the destruction that had taken place.

When they arrived, Zavet was still hard at work, his focus unwavering. Runner had just finished gathering Alley's requested materials and was busy setting them aside, ready for whatever came next. He looked up as the group approached, giving them a quick nod of acknowledgment.

Alley stepped forward, addressing the group with quiet authority. "We’ve got our team. We’re the Wraiths now, and our job is to find survivors, clear the area, and deal with any undead that remain. Zavet will lead the way; he knows this area best."

Zavet gave a curt nod, grateful for the support but more focused on the task. "We’ll start by marking the locations of any survivors or bodies. Once we’ve done that, we’ll clear the area and make it safe."

The team got to work, and their movements were synchronized and efficient. Zavet led them through the ruined streets, marking locations as he went. Alley and Runner followed close behind, gathering what they could to help with the rebuilding effort. The Razlond members and Sir Ulrich moved with precision, their swords and bucklers ready to strike down any undead that dared to approach.

As they worked, the atmosphere grew more focused. They were a unit now, bound by the same mission and the same determination to see it through. The ruins of the Razlond district loomed around them, a stark reminder of the devastation that had been wrought but also a testament to the resilience of those who remained.

Hours passed as they combed through the district, their efforts yielding bodies to be laid to rest and survivors who had miraculously endured the chaos. Each discovery was met with the same level of care and respect, the team working silently, understanding the gravity of their task.

Finally, as the sun descended in the sky, Alley called a halt. "That’s enough for today," she said, her voice weary but satisfied. "We’ve done good work. Let’s head back and regroup."

The group nodded in agreement, their exhaustion evident but tempered by the knowledge that they had made a difference. The shadows of the ruins loomed around them as they began the trek back to camp. The air was heavy with the lingering scent of decay, but the thought of returning to camp for some rest kept them moving forward.

Suddenly, the relative calm shattered as a swift stream of spells flew out from the ruins. The first bolts of magical energy struck Runner and Zavet with alarming precision, sending Runner sprawling to the ground, his body seized by a paralyzing force. Zavet, however, barely flinched as the spells washed over him. His unique nature, a product of necromantic magic, rendered him immune to the effects of the sleep and paralysis spells the attackers had foolishly chosen to use against him.

Before the group could react, three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows, their weapons drawn, and charged at Sir Ulrich. However, they quickly learned why Sir Ulrich was a knight of the White Orchid, one of the most elite orders in the kingdom. His sword moved with blinding speed, deflecting their attacks with the ease of a seasoned warrior. His expression remained calm and focused; he was no easy prey.

At the front of the group, three other attackers lunged for Alley, their intentions clear as they tried to overwhelm her. But Zavet, having shrugged off the ineffective spells, moved with a speed that belied his massive frame. As the cloaked figures rushed past him, expecting him to be paralyzed, Zavet’s tail lashed out like a whip. It coiled around the leg of one of the attackers, pulling him off his feet with a forceful yank. The cloaked figure crashed to the ground with a muffled cry, his hood falling back to reveal a ghastly, undead visage.

Zavet wasted no time. He recalled a spell Tear had taught him during their brief time together that could bring an enemy to their knees. Zavet’s eyes glowed with a cold light as he muttered the incantation, “I call upon necromancy to inflict your bones with rot.”

The spell took hold instantly. The undead attacker’s bones began to deteriorate, becoming brittle and fragile. The once fearsome creature let out a pained groan as Zavet delivered a series of swift, brutal blows, breaking its arms and legs, ensuring it could not escape or attack again.

Meanwhile, Alley was holding her ground, her sword flashing as she parried and dodged the strikes from her attackers. She knew she only needed to hold out long enough for help to arrive. Her concentration was fierce, her movements fluid as she matched their aggression with a disciplined defense.

Merlot, witnessing Alley’s predicament, sprang into action. He fought off two of the attackers with the skill of a seasoned warrior, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. The attackers were relentless, but Merlot’s calm determination prevailed. With a final, powerful strike, he downed both of them, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a heap.

Sir Ulrich, who had been fending off the trio of attackers aimed at him, proved why he was a knight of the White Orchid. His movements were a blur, his sword an extension of his will. He cut down his attackers ruthlessly, their undead forms collapsing under the weight of his blows. With the three who had targeted him defeated, he turned his attention to the others, quickly finishing the last two..

As the dust settled, Alley hurried over to Runner, who was still paralyzed. She knelt beside him, touching his chest and muttering a soft incantation. A warm, golden light spread from her fingertips, dispelling the paralysis that held Runner in its grip. He gasped as sensation returned to his limbs, his eyes filled with gratitude.

Merlot and Ulrich, meanwhile, were inspecting the bodies of the fallen attackers. They pulled back the hoods of the cloaked figures, revealing two low-ranking members of Solond and four unknown individuals. The sight of the Solond members made Merlot’s brow furrow in recognition.

“It’s two Solond members,” Merlot said grimly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow. “Krunk is the orc. He’s also a knight of a non-kingdom order of orcs. And the halfling is known as Solo, one of Solond’s scouts. The undead must have killed them, but they’ve been raised again as these... abominations.”

Ulrich's face was set in a grim expression, and they studied the bodies closely. The wounds on them were fresh, but it was clear they had been killed some time ago, their flesh bearing the pallor of death. He turned to the group, his voice measured but serious. “These undead had orders. This wasn’t a random attack. It was an ambush, planned and executed with precision. Knowing my rank, they targeted me and used magic to incapacitate our front-line fighters. Then they went after Alley, the only healer we have here. This was too organized to be the work of mindless undead. There’s something or someone nearby with greater intelligence, possibly a more intelligent undead or a necromancer, orchestrating these attacks.”

The gravity of Ulrich’s words sank in, and the group exchanged uneasy glances. The idea that they were being hunted, not by mere monsters but by something with a mind and a strategy, chilled them to the bone.

Merlot nodded, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. “We need to be on guard. We can’t afford to let our guard down for a second if there's a greater threat out there.”

Having helped Runner to his feet, Alley looked around at the group, her expression resolute. “We’ll need to regroup and figure out our next move. But for now, let’s get back to camp.”

The group returned to Krimlond’s camp, and their spirits lifted despite the arduous task of searching for the queen without success. The looming darkness of the ruins had given way to the flickering light of campfires, and the sounds of life in the camp were a welcome relief. Merlot and Ulrich, with their small contingent of Razlond knights, escorted them until they reached the edge of Krimlond's territory, where they parted ways. Merlot nodded briefly to Zavet, Runner, and Alley before leading his men back to their camp, leaving the trio in the safety of Krimlond’s well-guarded encampment.

As they approached, Talich emerged from his tent, his eyes lighting up at seeing them. "Welcome back," he called out, his voice warm and welcoming. "I just returned myself." He then turned to Zavet, his expression growing more serious. "Zavet, I’ve prepared the ritual to break your command. The circle is ready. If you’re prepared, we need to do this now.”

Zavet looked at Talich, his eyes reflecting relief and anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment, the opportunity to free himself from the commands that had bound him. With a nod, he stepped into the circle that Talich had meticulously prepared. The runes and symbols etched into the ground around him glowed faintly as Talich began to chant the incantation.

The ritual took twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity to those watching. The air around them seemed to thrum with power as Talich's voice grew stronger, the words of the ancient spell resonating through the camp. Zavet stood in the center of the circle, his eyes closed, feeling the weight of the command slowly lifting from him. The dark tendrils of necromantic energy that had controlled him began to unravel, dissipating into the ether.

When the ritual finally concluded, Zavet stepped out of the circle, a broad smile spreading across his face. The tension that had been etched into his features for so long had vanished, replaced by a sense of freedom he had almost forgotten. "I don’t need to worry about seeing Lina or the others anymore," he said, his voice filled with genuine cheer. The burden had been lifted, and he felt truly free for the first time in a long while.

That night, the camp was filled with a sense of anticipation. The group gathered around a crackling campfire, the flames' warmth warding off the night's chill. They ate, drank, and shared stories, their laughter echoing the camp. Talich, ever the storyteller, regaled them with tales of his past adventures, many of which involved Runner’s father, Thaine. Talich was careful with his words, mindful not to reveal too much about Thaine or draw unwanted attention to himself or Runner. Yet, the stories were captivating, painting a picture of the legendary warrior Thaine had been, and the bond Talich had shared with him.

As the night wore on, the stories grew more animated, the group laughing and teasing one another as the fire crackled merrily. But then, something unexpected happened. They all felt it, a subtle yet insistent pull at their chests. It wasn’t a strong tug but more like a gentle urging, as if they were being called to something of great importance. The sensation was strange, a mix of urgency and familiarity, as if they were late for an event they knew they couldn’t afford to miss.

The feeling was strong enough to rouse even those who had fallen asleep, and soon, the entire camp was abuzz with activity. People emerged from their tents, talking in hushed tones, their faces reflecting a shared understanding. This was no ordinary call; it was something far greater.

“That was it,” Talich said, his voice filled with awe. “That’s our heroic soul being gathered. The call of the heroes.” His words sent a shiver down their spines, the realization settling in that they were being summoned for something significant, something beyond the ordinary.

Without hesitation, they began to pack up their gear, the urgency of the pull driving them to move quickly. There was no time to waste, and the camp was soon filled with the sounds of preparation as everyone prepared to follow the call. The path ahead was uncertain, but they all knew one thing: they had to answer this call, no matter where it led them.

As they prepared to leave, Zavet glanced around at his companions, his heart swelling with a sense of purpose. The chains that had bound him were gone, and now he was ready to face whatever lay ahead. With a determined nod to Talich and the others, he tightened the straps on his pack and picked up his weapon, ready to embark on the next chapter of their journey.

The night was alive with anticipation as the group set out, following the unseen pull that guided them toward their destiny. The campfires of Krimlond flickered behind them, but their eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the call of the heroes awaited them.

The pull led them to Ffairfon, but it wasn’t the welcoming sight they had hoped for. As they crested the final hill, dark and foreboding, the city loomed before them. The once-great city was now shrouded in a thick, unnatural fog that clung to the streets like a deathly pall. The air was heavy with the stench of decay, and the only sound that reached their ears was the distant, haunting moans of the undead.

The group halted, taking in the grim scene. The city’s towering stone walls, which had once stood as a testament to its strength, were now cracked and crumbling. Shadows moved unnaturally across the battlements, and the gates, which should have swung open in welcome, remained firmly shut, barred against the horrors within. But it was clear that the actual danger lay inside the walls.

His face set in grim determination, Merlot stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “This is where the pull has brought us,” he said, his voice low but carrying a weight of authority. “But we won’t be welcomed with open arms. Ffairfon is overrun. We’ll have to fight our way inside.”

Ulrich nodded, his expression mirroring Merlot’s resolve. “We’ve faced worse,” he said, his voice steady. “And we have the strength of Tiaghaneth’s finest with us. We’ll carve a path through those walls, one way or another.”

The group moved into formation, each member taking their place with practiced precision. Zavet, now free from the command that had bound him, flexed his muscles and cracked his knuckles, his eyes fixed on the darkened city. Runner and Alley stood beside him, their weapons ready, while Talich, ever the strategist, surveyed the battlefield with a calculating gaze.

As they approached the city gates, the full extent of the horror became clear. The undead swarmed the streets, their rotting forms shambling through the fog, their eyes glowing with a malevolent light. These were not the mindless undead they had encountered; these creatures moved with purpose as if guided by some unseen force. Among them were fallen knights, their once-shining armor now tarnished and broken, their swords clutched in skeletal hands.

With a nod from Merlot, the group advanced. The first wave of undead surged toward them, their moans growing louder as they closed in. Zavet was the first to engage, his small form plowing into the horde with a ferocity that belied his necromantic origins. He swung rump whip in wide arcs, cleaving through the ranks of the undead, his tail lashing out to trip up those who tried to flank him. He used his bone dagger in his other hand to Deliver the killing blows with the dagger to get the shadow armor. The others followed suit, each fighting with the skill and determination that had brought them this far.

Runner moved with the agility of a seasoned warrior, his two-handed sword a blur as he cut down the undead before him. Alley, her healing abilities momentarily set aside, fought with deadly precision. Her strikes aimed at the heads and hearts of the undead, ensuring they would not rise again. Talich, using his sword and mace, which Thaine had created, disintegrated the undead where they stood.

Merlot and Yvonne fought side by side, their swords moving in perfect harmony. Yvonne, though young, displayed a skill that rivaled even the most seasoned knights, her blade flashing as she dispatched one undead after another. Merlot, his face a mask of concentration, fought with a controlled fury, every strike of his sword a testament to his years of training and experience.

Ulrich's White Orchid armor gleaming despite the darkness was a whirlwind of death. The undead that dared to approach him were cut down with ruthless efficiency, their bodies crumpling to the ground before they could even raise their weapons. He moved with a grace and power that spoke of years of discipline and combat, his every movement calculated to bring about the maximum destruction.

The battle raged on, the sound of clashing steel and the cries of the undead filling the air. The group pushed forward, carving a path through the horde, their eyes fixed on the city gates. They knew the only way to survive was to reach the gates and secure a foothold inside the city. But the undead were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless.

Just as they began to wonder if they could hold out, a horn sounded from within the city. The gates creaked open, just wide enough to allow the group inside. A figure stood on the other side, urgently waving them in. They made a break for it without hesitation, cutting down the last of the undead in their path as they rushed through the gates.

As soon as they were inside, the gates slammed shut behind them, the sound reverberating like the final toll of a death knell. The group found themselves in a small courtyard, surrounded by marble buildings and more undead.

The figure who had opened the gates stepped forward, revealing themselves to be a knight, his armor battered but still recognizable as the White Orchid's. “Welcome to Ffairfon,” he said, his voice weary but laced with determination. “You’ve made it just in time. We have almost claimed the city back from The Undead.”

Merlot stepped forward, his sword still in hand. “We’re here to finish this,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of their shared purpose. “Whatever it takes, we will not allow the kingdom to fall.”

The knight nodded, a grim smile on his face. “Then let’s not waste any time. The real battle is about to begin.”

With purpose in their stride, Zavet, Talich, Runner, and the rest of the Krimlond contingent have prepared themselves for the task ahead. The pull of the heroic souls had drawn them to this place for a reason they could not yet fully comprehend but knew was vital to their cause. Under the watchful eye of Baroness Lina, who had received her orders directly from Merlot, they set off to find a suitable base of operations within the ruined city.

As Krimlond began their search, Solond’s forces moved with grim determination. Edmond, their leader, was already issuing commands through his drunken haze, his strategic brilliance undiminished. His soldiers, clad in the quartered black and yellow of their barony, worked tirelessly to erect barricades and fortify the perimeter around the intended base of operations. These defenses would be crucial in keeping the enemy at bay, allowing Krimlond the time they needed to secure the interior.

Meanwhile, the druids and rangers of Erenlond had taken up positions in strategic locations throughout the city. They were the lifeblood of the defense, and their healing arts were essential to keeping the soldiers in fighting shape. Their presence was a beacon of hope in the midst of despair.

On the city's outskirts, Razlond’s warriors, along with the other heroic souls, were locked in fierce combat. Merlot himself, his red dragon-embellished sword blazing, led the charge against the Stranglers, vile creatures that had pursued them from the darkness. The clash was brutal, and each strike was delivered with the knowledge that failure meant death not just for themselves but for those still within the city’s crumbling walls. The Stranglers were relentless, but Razlond’s members were undeterred, their elite training and magical weapons giving them an edge over the nightmarish foes.

As the various groups executed their orders, the air was thick with tension. Every soldier and hero was attuned to the underlying sense of unease that permeated the ruins. Each heroic soul was in the dark about the exact nature of their mission, knowing only that they had been drawn here for a purpose yet to be revealed. The uncertainty gnawed at them, but their resolve remained unshaken.

With her band of Krimlond misfits, Baroness Lina stood outside a building they had been ordered to convert into a command center. Though battered by time and recent upheaval, the structure still bore the marks of a grander age. It was once one of Ffairfon’s official buildings when the bronze elves ruled the city. In those days, there were no baronies or embassies; power was concentrated within noble families rather than among groups selected for their skills or loyalty.

The building, now abandoned and overgrown with vines, had fallen into disuse when the bronze elves’ rule ended. Lina’s mission was to reclaim it, to turn this crumbling edifice into a stronghold for Krimlond. Under her command, Hoat led the charge, and the warriors of Krimlond moved with practiced efficiency as they secured the building. Inside, they found remnants of the past, old elven guardians that had stood vigil over the house for centuries. These ancient protectors, once formidable, were no match for Krimlond’s forces. They were swiftly dismantled, their arcane mechanisms rendered inert. With the old guardians destroyed, Gauge set to work, installing his creations, stone golems crafted to defend the building with unyielding resolve. Krimlond had claimed the building, transforming it into a fortified command center, ready to serve as the nerve center of their operations.

Across the city, in a different part of the ruins, Talich’s group had their mission. Talich, Zavet, Runner, and Alley went to the Andiesen household, a place deeply personal to Talich. The house, once a proud seat of power within the city, had been claimed by the Andiesen family, one of the few noble houses to survive the city's fall. Talich’s wife, Vivian, was the current leader of the Andiesen family, and this house was a tangible link to that legacy.

The Andiesen household had fallen into disrepair over the years. Its grand halls, which had once echoed with laughter and conversation, were now eerily silent, occupied only by undead servants and guardians left to maintain the household without living masters. These undead, bound to the house by ancient magic, continued their duties in the shadows, their presence a grim reminder of the city’s tragic past.

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Talich, however, showed no hesitation. With swift precision, he and his companions dispatched the undead, their ancient bones crumbling to dust as they fell beneath the skilled blows of the Krimlond warriors. The house was soon cleared of its grim occupants, the air thick with the scent of death and decay. Once the last undead were dealt with, Talich ordered the installation of new guardians, stone golems, their massive forms standing sentinel where the undead once roamed. These hulking figures would ensure the household’s security, protecting it from further threats.

Inside, the house was a stark contrast to its fortified exterior. Dust and cobwebs coated every surface, remnants of a time when the house had been abandoned to its fate. Talich could not help but feel sorrow as he walked through the once-grand halls, now reduced to little more than a mausoleum. But there was no time for mourning. The house was more than a memory; it was a secure location for Talich and his group, where they could regroup and plan their next moves. The Andiesen household, once fallen into ruin, would serve a new purpose in the coming battle. Talich and the group would live here while they are in Ffairfon.

With the princess and His Majesty safely escorted inside the newly established command center, Krimlond’s warriors breathed a sigh of relief. The building, once a symbol of the bronze elves’ rule, now served as a fortified refuge for their leaders. But there was no time to linger; they had another task. Talich was out there, scouting for a location they could transform into a more permanent base, a place that could serve as a home away from home in these desolate ruins.

Determined to find him, the group began navigating the labyrinth of crumbling streets and dilapidated buildings that once formed the heart of Ffairfon. They moved cautiously, eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger, yet their thoughts were focused on the task ahead. Talich had promised to leave signs, a trail of subtle markers only Krimlond would recognize, leading them to his location once he had secured a suitable site.

As they traveled, the conversation shifted to recent events and the future of their band. Runner, who had fought bravely alongside them, was the topic of much discussion. He had shown unwavering loyalty, quick thinking, and a knack for survival, earning him the respect of Krimlond’s hardened warriors. “He’s proven himself,” Hoat remarked, his voice low but firm. “Few can match his skill with poisons or his ability to keep a level head during hard times. He’s more than just an ally; he’s Krimlond material.”

The others nodded in agreement. Runner fit in seamlessly with their ranks, displaying the qualities they valued most such as loyalty, skill, and a certain ruthless pragmatism that Krimlond was known for. Bringing him as a full member was the natural next step.

But as the conversation turned to Zavet, the mood grew more contemplative. Zavet was talented. There was no denying that his connection to powerful forces and his surprising resilience in battle had caught their attention. Yet, there was a lingering concern. “He’s young,” one of them murmured, voicing what many of them felt. “Too young. He’s got potential, sure, but potential isn’t enough. Not in Krimlond.”

There was a collective sense of doubt. They had seen what the world could do to those unprepared for its harsh realities, and while Zavet had already faced his share of trials, the question remained whether he was ready for the relentless demands of Krimlond’s way of life. They wanted to see more from him before making any decisions—more battle-worn experience, more proof that he could handle the burdens that came with the name Krimlond.

The discussion eventually drifted to Alley, who had also made an impression on the group. She was resourceful, skilled, and quick on her feet. These qualities would make any warrior proud. Yet, there was something about her that made them hesitate. “Alley’s good, no question,” Hoat said thoughtfully. “But Krimlond isn’t just about skill. It’s about fitting into a specific mold, about a certain… mentality. I’m not sure she’s quite cut out for it.”

The others seemed to agree. Alley was exceptional in her own right, but there was an unspoken sense that her path might not align with Krimlond’s. She was a valuable ally but perhaps not a future member of their close-knit band.

As they continued their search, the discussion faded into silence, replaced by their footsteps echoing through the empty streets. The signs that Talich had promised began to appear, such as an arrangement of stones here and a faint marking on a wall there, guiding them closer to their destination. Krimlond’s warriors pressed on focused on the task at hand, but their minds were still turning over the conversations they had just shared.

As they walked through the crumbling streets of Ffairfon, the remnants of an ancient civilization scattered around them, Gauge turned to Lina with a curious expression. “What about Talich?” he asked, his voice echoing slightly off the stone walls.

Lina chuckled, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Talich? He was a baron once, long ago,” she replied, her tone light with nostalgia. “But that was in another time. He’s supposed to be retired by now, enjoying the quiet life. But knowing him, he’s far too stubborn to let go of the fight. Age hasn’t dulled his spirit.”

Gauge nodded, his thoughts lingering on the enigmatic warrior who had once held a noble title. Talich had seen countless battles, each one leaving its mark on him, but despite his years, there was still a fire in his eyes, a determination that few could match.

As they approached their destination, the conversation died down. They spotted Zavet crouched by the side of the building, his hands busy with something on the ground. As they drew closer, it became clear that he was digging in the dirt, focusing entirely on the task.

“Hey, Zavet,” Lina called out, her voice warm as she addressed the young lizardman.

Zavet looked up, his face lighting up with a smile as he recognized them. “Hi,” he replied, his voice bright with the simple joy of the moment. In his hands were a few small insects, his favorite treat, as the others knew all too well.

Lina couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Did you guys find a place where we could stay?” she asked, glancing around at the surrounding ruins.

Zavet’s grin widened as he nodded eagerly, pointing to the building beside him. “Everyone is inside,” he said proudly. “They told me to find food.”

Following closely behind, Scarlet gasped in surprise as she realized what Zavet was referring to as ‘food.’ The sight of the wriggling insects in his hands made her stomach turn. “Uhh, we don’t need to eat that, right?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Harley, always one to seize an opportunity for mischief, saw her chance. With a straight face and a glint of humor in her eyes, she leaned in closer to Scarlet. “Yeah, we’re on bug rations,” she said, feigning seriousness. “No one thought to bring food, so it’s bugs for us.”

Scarlet’s eyes widened in horror as she looked at the insects in Zavet’s hands. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Teric chimed in, his tone casual as he glanced over at Scarlet. “She’s right,” he said, though his voice carried a hint of amusement. “But I did bring my food, so I’ll be fine.”

Scarlet looked between them, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or pulling her leg. The smirk on Harley’s face gave it away, and she realized they were teasing her. “Very funny,” she muttered, crossing her arms with a huff, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Zavet, blissfully unaware of the joke being played, continued to search for more bugs and content with his task. Lina patted him on the shoulder, her gaze shifting to the building he had pointed out. It was an old structure, worn by time but still standing firm as a potential refuge.

“Let’s head inside and see what Talich and the others have found,” Lina said, her voice carrying a note of authority as they moved toward the entrance.

As the group entered the old, dusty building that would temporarily serve as their base, the air was thick with anticipation and underlying unease. The stone golems that Talich had summoned stood stoically by the entrance, their rough-hewn forms a stark contrast to the ancient home's elegant, if weathered, architecture.

Gauge and Teric, however, were less than impressed. They exchanged glances, their eyes narrowing as they took in the guardians. “Yeah, that’s not going to work for us,” Gauge muttered to Teric, shaking his head. His voice carried a tone of mild frustration, tempered with the knowledge that they could quickly remedy this.

“Agreed,” Teric replied, mentally cataloging the necessary components. “I’ll start gathering the necessary materials. These golems are too rigid, too predictable. We need something with a bit more… flexibility.” His mind raced with ideas of how to reconfigure the defenses to suit Krimlond's needs better.

As the group settled in, they claimed a room within the sprawling, dilapidated structure. Dusty tapestries hung limply from the walls. Their colors faded from years of neglect while the scent of age and decay permeated the air. Lina, taking charge of the situation as she often did, strode into what must have once been a grand dining hall. Though covered in a thick layer of dust, the long table was still sturdy enough to serve their purposes. She placed a large, weathered bowl in the center of the table and affixed a note to it with a piece of parchment. The note in her precise handwriting read: “Please donate half of your findings during the gathering. – Lina.” It was a practical instruction meant to ensure that they all shared the burden of survival and contributed equally to the group's well-being.

Talich, who had initially accompanied the group, knew his place was outside these walls. Though he had been instrumental in securing the building, he was not a member of their barony, and he felt it best to give them space to organize as they saw fit. With a nod to Lina, he stepped outside, the heavy door creaking shut behind him.

As he exited, he noticed Zavet crouched in the overgrown yard, intently gathering bugs into a small burlap sack. Talich’s brow furrowed in mild concern as he approached. “Shit, Zavet, not bugs,” he admonished gently. “Normal people don’t eat bugs. Come on, let’s head to the palace. You remember the place where you first met the master?”

Zavet looked up from his task, his eyes lighting up as he recalled the memory. He stood, brushing dirt from his knees, and nodded enthusiastically. “I remember! But I’ll keep these bugs for later. Maybe I’ll smoke them this time. I even found a kitchen outside in the back,” he added, his excitement palpable.

Talich smiled, amused by Zavet’s innocent enthusiasm. “Yeah, I used that kitchen right before I met you. I stayed here right after being put on the mission to discover what happened to the forgotten..”

Zavet’s face brightened further as he thought of his family. “Oh, I want to visit my mom and dad,” he said, almost bouncing on his heels excitedly. “I’ll bring them here after the gathering. It’ll take me a week if I get a wagon and a horse.”

Talich chuckled softly at the boy’s eagerness, nodding in approval. “That sounds like a good plan. They’ll be happy to see you.”

Together, the duo made their way through the deserted streets, the once bustling city now eerily silent. All around them, the former citizens of Ffairfon, now undead, continued their daily routines as if nothing had changed. They were not mindless but rather animated by some strange necromantic force that kept them tethered to their previous lives.

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.

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 with 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 and powerful 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.

Zavet left the keep, his steps quickening with purpose. His mind raced as he recalled Vlad’s words, the malicious intent behind them clear. *“Good, we can get them both tonight. I owe her a few deaths.”* The words echoed in his head like a dark chant, spurring him forward.

As he walked through the city streets, he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of Runner or Alley. The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cobbled roads. He knew time was running out. If he didn’t warn them soon, Vlad and his accomplices would make their move.

Zavet’s heart raced as his feet pounded against the cobblestone streets, heading straight for the Andiesen house. The sky was dimming, the golden hues of sunset giving way to deep purples and blues. He could feel the urgency like a weight on his chest, Vlad’s sinister words echoing in his mind. As the large estate came into view, he spotted Talich, Vivian, and Lina standing outside in conversation, their expressions calm and unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows.

Vivian’s sharp eyes noticed Zavet first, her eyebrows rising in surprise as he approached at a near sprint. Talich, ever watchful, turned his head, his usual calm demeanor replaced with concern at the sight of Zavet’s urgency.

“Zavet?” Lina stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of one of her twin silver short swords. She seemed to sense something was wrong. “What’s going on?”

Breathing heavily, Zavet didn’t waste any time. “Is Runner and Alley here?” he asked, glancing between the three of them, hoping desperately that they hadn’t wandered off.

Lina shook her head, a slight frown forming on her lips. “Sorry, lizardboy. They went to explore the city at night. Said they wanted to see what it looked like after dark.”

Zavet’s heart dropped, his throat tightening. “Listen, Lina, I overheard Vlad, Vexx, and Krunk. They’re planning something, something bad. They’re targeting Runner and Alley tonight. We need to find them now!”

Lina’s expression darkened immediately, her eyes narrowing as she took Zavet’s words. She didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Stay here,” she said firmly, her voice hard as steel. She turned on her heel and rushed inside the Andiesen house. Within moments, she was back outside, accompanied by the entire group of Krimlond, alerted to the danger.

Hoat, Krimlond’s most experienced scout, stepped forward, his brow furrowed in thought. “Anybody know where they could be?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with concern.

Harley, one of the newer recruits but already proving his worth, shrugged but then raised his hand slightly. “I talked to them earlier,” he began, looking around at the group. “Told them the roofs around the city have a great view of the mountains. Maybe they’re up there.”

Lina nodded sharply, her expression serious. “Good lead. We’ll start there.”

Talich stepped up beside Zavet, placing a firm but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You did well coming to us, Zavet,” he said, his voice low and filled with the weight of the situation. “Now we’ll handle it.”

Zavet nodded, feeling a mix of relief and lingering anxiety. His thoughts raced. Would they be able to find Runner and Alley before it was too late? He knew Vlad and his crew wouldn’t wait long to strike. They had to act fast.

Lina gave orders swiftly. “Hoat, take the rooftops and get eyes on them. Harley, spread the word to our other scouts. I want this entire city combed if we need to. The rest of you, pair up and sweep the streets. They can’t have gone far.”

As the group dispersed, Zavet found himself standing with Talich for a moment. Talich gave him a nod, understanding the silent worry that lingered in his eyes. “We’ll find them,” Talich promised.

Zavet swallowed hard but nodded back. There was no turning back now. This night, the city’s quiet beauty was marred by the shadow of impending danger, and time was ticking away.

Without another word, Zavet turned, following the others as they began their search, his heart pounding again, this time with a different kind of urgency.

It had taken some time, and the tension was building with every passing minute. Zavet's heart thumped in his chest as they combed the city for Runner and Alley. The rooftops, where Harley had suggested they might be, stretched out in the fading light like silent sentinels. Finally, a signal came, a whistle from above.

Scarlet and Harley, perched on the higher ground, were the first to spot them. There, in a narrow alleyway, Runner and Alley stood over the bodies of Vexx, Vlad, and Krunk. Their lifeless forms lay sprawled out, and from a distance, it was clear they had met a swift, precise end. As Scarlet and Harley descended, the smell of blood and poison lingered faintly in the air.

“What happened?” Scarlet asked, her tone a mixture of relief and disbelief as she took in the sight before her.

Alley looked up from where she was crouched, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. She waved casually, her demeanor as nonchalant as if she were discussing the weather. “Oh hey,” she replied, her voice light. “Runner and I decided to take these guys out. followed them, and… well, we took them down with some of Runner’s poisons.”

She laughed, the sound echoing off the narrow stone walls of the alleyway. It was a laugh born of satisfaction, not fear or nervousness. As if on cue, Runner chuckled along, his eyes glinting with a quiet sense of accomplishment.

Scarlet and Harley exchanged glances before breaking into relieved laughter as well. The situation had gone from dire to done in a matter of moments, and it seemed Runner and Alley had taken control of it long before any help had arrived.

“They were planning to kill you two tonight,” Zavet said, his voice a little hoarse from the sprinting and anxiety of the past few hours. His relief was palpable, but he couldn’t quite shake the residual fear that had gripped him.

Runner glanced at Zavet and nodded, wiping the poison-laden blade he’d used on a rag he carried. “Yeah, Zavet. We figured something was off,” he explained. “We spotted them lurking from the rooftops earlier, moving like they were on a hunt. They’ve been after Alley for a while now. Killed her last year, in fact. So… we figured it was time to return the favor.”

Alley grinned at that, not the least bit bothered by the grisly scene in front of her. “Payback’s sweet, isn’t it?” she added with a wink, nudging one of the corpses with the toe of her boot. Her voice held no remorse, only satisfaction. The weight of her previous death by their hands seemed lifted now, replaced by a sense of closure she hadn’t expected.

Scarlet bent down, examining the bodies briefly. “Looks like they didn’t even have time to fight back,” she remarked, her tone one of admiration.

Runner shrugged, his face calm. “Poison works fast when you know how to use it. Besides, Alley and I knew what we were doing. It wasn’t hard to get the drop on them.”

Zavet, still processing the scene, found himself shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “I’m glad you’re both okay,” he finally said, the tension leaving his shoulders. He had feared the worst, but in the end, they had turned the tables on their would-be killers with precision and skill.

“Let’s get out of here,” Scarlet said after a moment, her eyes still scanning the alleyway as if expecting more trouble. “We’ll deal with the cleanup later.”

Runner and Alley exchanged a look, their smirks still lingering. Zavet approached Runner, his tone serious but filled with a quiet thrill. “Stay with me,” he said, glancing at the bodies strewn across the ground. “Let the others go. I want to try something.”

Alley, catching the tone in his voice, raised an eyebrow but nodded, turning to leave with the others. “Alright, just don’t get into too much trouble without us,” she quipped, waving them off as she disappeared down the alley with Scarlet and Harley.

Once they were out of sight, Zavet focused his gaze on the bodies before him, his mind racing. He turned to Runner. “Keep a lookout,” he instructed, his voice lowered with anticipation. “I’m going to make them undead.”

Runner’s expression shifted from mild surprise to intrigue. He leaned against a nearby wall, folding his arms across his chest. “You could use a spell to rapidly decay them,” he suggested, his voice casual but filled with the kind of knowledge Zavet appreciated.

Zavet sighed. “I wish I knew that one,” he admitted, frustration evident in his voice. “But I have a different plan. I want them to find Iscariot for me.”

Runner shrugged, a grin forming on his face. “Not a bad idea.”

Without wasting another second, Zavet began drawing the necromantic energy to him. He focused, feeling the power surge within him, like tendrils of green smoke swirling at his fingertips. As the magic gathered, he raised his hand and pointed at the corpse of Vexx.

“By the power of necromancy, I call upon the hunger of gluttony to animate this corpse,” Zavet chanted, his voice echoing in the dark alley as green energy snaked toward Vexx's lifeless body.

The magic flowed into the corpse, but to Zavet’s confusion, nothing happened. Vexx’s body lay still, untouched by the spell.

Zavet stared at the body for a few seconds, puzzled. “He’s imbued with necromancy already. He can’t be raised.”

Runner, watching intently, nodded. “Makes sense. Some bodies are too soaked in necromantic energy to be animated again.”

Zavet’s gaze shifted to Vlad’s corpse. “But Vlad… he’s not,” he muttered, the thrill of experimentation fueling his next move.

Runner’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Try changing the phrasing. Instead of ‘by the power of necromancy,’ say, ‘by my power over necromancy.’ It might give you more control.”

Zavet smiled, excited by the suggestion. “Good idea.” This time, he called upon the necromantic energy within himself, his personal connection to the dark arts, rather than simply harnessing the ambient magic around them.

“By my power over necromancy, I call upon the hunger of gluttony to animate this corpse.”

A surge of energy blasted from Zavet’s hands, sinking into Vlad’s corpse. For a moment, the body lay still. Then, with a sharp gasp, Vlad’s eyes flew open. He jumped to his feet, his posture defensive and wild with confusion.

“What the… You killed me!” Vlad spat, his eyes locking onto Runner, pure fury radiating from him. “Asshole!”

Zavet and Runner exchanged startled looks. This wasn’t the reaction they were expecting. “They’re supposed to be mindless,” Runner said, stepping forward, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Why does he still have his mind?”

Vlad’s gaze darted between them, blinking rapidly as he tried to process what had just happened. “You... turned me undead and I still have my mind?” His tone shifted from anger to awe, and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, be damned. I feel stronger than ever.”

Zavet, watching him carefully, raised a hand. “Stop moving for a moment,” he commanded.

Vlad’s body froze instantly, as if an invisible hand had taken control of his every muscle. He glanced down at himself in horror, then back up at Zavet. “Oh, shit. You can control me. No….wait, hold on, fuck!”

For a moment, Zavet held him there, testing the limits of his power over the undead Vlad. After a tense few seconds, he released his hold, and Vlad gasped, immediately trying to bolt.

But Zavet had already figured out the full extent of his control. “Stop,” Zavet commanded calmly, and again, Vlad’s body responded instantly, halting mid-motion.

Runner chuckled, impressed. “You’ve got full control over him. You could make him do anything.”

With Runner’s help, they began crafting a series of commands for Vlad. Zavet’s voice was calm but firm, laying out each command with deliberate intent. “Forget who created you. Do what you would normally do. Stop hunting Alley. Train your swordsmanship every morning for four hours. Don’t let anyone know you’re undead. Keep up your appearance to look alive. And most importantly, find Iscariot and give Talich his location.”

Vlad’s expression shifted as each command took root in his mind, his defiant demeanor giving way to an eerie calm. He was still aware, but Zavet’s control over him was absolute. Finally, Zavet and Runner stepped back, watching as Vlad nodded in quiet compliance.

“Well,” Runner said, stretching his arms above his head. “That went better than expected.”

Zavet grinned, feeling the excitement of their success surge through him. “Yeah, it did.”

By the time they were done, the other two corpses, Vexx and Krunk, had dissolved into dust. But that didn’t matter. Vlad was their key now, and Zavet couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at what they had accomplished.

As they made their way back to the Andiesen household, the thrill of the night still buzzing in their veins, they saw the rest of the Krimlond crew gathered outside, the evening air thick with anticipation.

Lina was at the center, her voice commanding attention as she addressed the group. “Alright, we’ve got a lead,” she announced, her eyes sweeping over them. “There’s a cave system beneath the city, and we need to investigate it. Zavet, Runner, you’re going with Gauge, Hoat, and Teric. Find out what’s inside and report back. This is our first major lead.”

Zavet and Runner exchanged a glance, the adrenaline of the night still pumping through them. Without hesitation, they nodded, ready for whatever awaited them in the depths of the cave.

Zavet, Runner, and the rest of the crew descended into the cave, their boots crunching on loose gravel as the darkness swallowed them whole. The air grew colder the deeper they went, and the walls seemed to close in, the once wide tunnel shrinking into narrow, winding passages. The only light came from the flickering torches they carried, casting eerie shadows that danced along the rough, jagged walls.

The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing from unseen crevices. It wasn’t long before the first signs of life…or rather, undeath—emerged. They encountered shambling figures, their skin sagging from their bones and their eyes glowing with the faint green light of necromantic energy. The stench of decay filled the air as Zavet drew his sword, Runner readying his poisons.

“We need to be careful,” Zavet muttered under his breath, eyeing the undead creatures as they staggered toward them.

Hoat was the first to strike, his spear glowing faintly with the same greenish-gold light he had used in the tournament. It pierced the chest of an advancing corpse, the magic within the spear glowed a greenish gold. the magic while it was enough to kill these low ranking undead. it Was not made to kill undead. The rest of the crew followed suit, cutting through the small horde of undead with practiced precision. Teric’s ice magic cut through bone with deadly accuracy, and Runner, always quick and agile, darted between the creatures, he used a short sword rather than his two hander. The cave limited him by its narrow corridors and obstacles. Zavet used his dagger to gain his shadow armor and used rumpwhip as his main weapon. Meanwhile gauge healed anyone that got hurt.

The cave system, however, seemed endless. It was a winding labyrinth of tunnels and chambers that twisted and turned, leading them deeper into the earth. Each step took them further from the entrance, and the oppressive atmosphere of the cave weighed heavily on them all.

Zavet couldn't shake the feeling that something ancient lurked deeper within, a presence that gnawed at the edge of his mind. As they continued, they came across strange cave drawings etched into the stone walls, crude depictions of rituals, figures in cloaks raising their hands toward the sky, surrounded by swirling symbols that Zavet recognized as necromantic runes.

“This place reeks of death magic,” Runner muttered, wiping sweat from his brow as he examined one of the drawings. His usually playful demeanor had shifted to one of cautious seriousness. "Whatever happened here, it’s been going on for a long time."

Zavet nodded in agreement. The necromantic energy was palpable, permeating the very air they breathed. It was old, far older than anything they had encountered before. The walls seemed to hum with it, and even the undead they faced felt different—stronger, more resilient, as though the cave itself was feeding them.

Hours passed as they navigated the labyrinth, their bodies growing weary from the constant fighting and the claustrophobic tunnels that seemed to stretch on without end. At one point, they came across a vast chamber, its ceiling towering above them, lined with stalactites that dripped water onto the stone floor below. In the center of the chamber was an ancient altar, covered in dust and grime, but the faint glow of necromantic runes still pulsed faintly around its edges.

“This isn’t just a cave,” Zavet said, his voice echoing in the empty space. “It’s a tomb. A necromancer’s lair.”

The realization sent a chill down their spines, but there was no time to dwell on it. They needed to find a way out before the cave claimed them too. As they moved deeper, they encountered more resistance, undead creatures of all shapes and sizes, some humanoid, others monstrous in form. Their battles became more intense, the creatures more coordinated, as though something was guiding them.

By the time they found their way back to the surface, the first rays of dawn were breaking through the horizon. The crew was exhausted, their bodies bruised and battered, but they had made it out alive. The fresh morning air was a welcome relief as they stepped out of the cave, but the feeling of unease lingered.

Back at the Andiesen household, Lina and the others had begun to worry. They had feared the worst, that Zavet, Runner, and the others had been captured or worse. When the group finally returned, covered in dirt and grime, Lina’s face was a mixture of relief and concern.

“What happened there?” she asked, her eyes scanning each of them for signs of injury.

Zavet wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking his head. “The cave is full of undead, more than we’ve ever seen before. We barely scratched the surface. It’s an ancient necromancer’s tomb. The air was thick with death magic. Whatever’s down there... it’s powerful.”

“The place reeked of necromancy,” Runner added, his voice tinged with disgust. “We found old drawings, rituals, and signs of something big. There’s more down there, I can feel it.”

Lina’s expression hardened. “We need to investigate further. If that cave is tied to necromantic forces, it’s a threat to us all. Rest up, we’ll need to go back soon and explore more of its depths.”

The crew nodded, knowing they had only begun to uncover the mysteries hidden beneath the city. They had survived the first venture, but the cave’s endless labyrinth, its undead guardians, and the ancient magic that thrummed within its walls promised that the real danger still lay ahead.

Zavet hadn’t slept a wink. His mind raced with thoughts of the cave system, the undead, and the strange necromantic energy that still lingered in his senses. He decided he needed a break from the constant fighting and mystery. Using the ring on his finger, he teleported to Tear’s classroom inside the Black Pyramid, a place of solace and learning within Ffairfon.

Inside the darkened halls of the Black Pyramid, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment. Tear, the ancient Lich who took an interest in Zavet’s education, stood waiting as usual. His eyes, wise and piercing, followed him as he sat down.

"You’re early," He commented, his voice like the soft whisper of wind through the crypts. "No sleep, I see."

Zavet nodded, barely able to stifle a yawn. "Too much going on. Thought I’d use the time wisely."

Tear gave a small, approving smile. "Learning to read and write is just as important as learning magic. You’ll thank me one day."

For the next few hours, Zavet buried himself in the basics, reading old texts, practicing the formation of letters, and delving into the history of Ffairfon and its necromantic roots. He struggled at times, his mind always wandering back to the cave, to the undead, to the power he had felt coursing through his veins as he raised Vlad from the dead. But he forced himself to focus. This was important, too. Knowledge was its own form of power.

After his lessons, Zavet used the portal to go back to the Necromancer’s Guild Hall within Ffairfon. The hall was a grand, darkened place, with symbols of necromancy etched into every surface. The smell of incense and aged books greeted him, a comforting aroma after his morning of learning.

Vlad was just finishing up his training with Krunk in the training yard, sweat pouring down his brow as he swung his sword. Nearby, Talich and Mah’nethotep stood with Vexx, watching the training session closely. Vexx, a stoic figure with a sharp gaze, was instructing the others as they sparred, correcting stances, giving tips on form.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into them,” Talich said, watching Vlad and Krunk train with renewed intensity. “But they’ve really stepped it up. I hope they keep it up. We always need to stay sharp. No room for complacency.”

Vexx nodded, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with a deep understanding. “Yeah, my brother, Vlad. He stopped training once he joined Solond. And when he found that damn sword of his and became their champion, it all went downhill. He became an elitist. Just like edmond.”

Talich leaned in, lowering his voice. “Yeah, they were both in the Black Order before. But once they got into Solond, things changed. They became arrogant and started to bully people they believe are less than them, just like the rest of Solond. That baron puts too much drunken nonsense in their heads. It’s rotting their sense of discipline.”

Vexx’s eyes darkened for a moment, a flicker of something like disappointment crossing his face. “It’s why I stayed out of the baronies. I’m only thirty, but I’ve kept our House guard strong, and now we’re considered a knightly order. If all goes well, we’ll be officially recognized by the kingdom soon. Once that happens, the Necromancer’s Guild will finally have a foothold here.”

Talich’s eyes lit up. “That’s the dream, isn’t it? I’ve been pushing for legalizing necromancy as long as I can remember. We compromised with the kingdom but they were hard set against controlling undead, creating undead and conspiring with undead. But we’re still far from getting our own official guild. They believed it would corrupt the kingdom if they allowed a necromancer to take any noble position.”

“We’ll get there,” Vexx replied firmly. “We just have to play the long game.”

Just then, Zavet approached, waving at the group. “Hey, everyone. I’m heading back to the cave system under the city with Runner.”

Mah’nethotep, standing silently nearby, tilted his head slightly at this.“What cave system?”

Zavet paused, realizing he hadn’t mentioned the discovery to the others yet. “It’s an old cave system beneath the city,” he explained, glancing at the others. “Filled with undead. We were there for eight hours yesterday, and it feels like we barely scratched the surface. There were old cave drawings and necromantic runes; it reeks of death magic. It’s huge. I think it might be connected to something bigger.”

Mah’nethotep’s golden eyes narrowed, his interest clearly piqued. “I see. This cave... if it truly holds the stench of necromancy, I want to know more. Keep me informed of your findings, Zavet. There may be more hidden there than you realize.”

“I’ll let you know what we find,” he promised, before turning and heading out of the guild hall.

Runner was already waiting for him at the entrance, leaning against a pillar with that ever-present mischievous grin on his face. “Ready for round two, boss?” he asked, spinning a dagger between his fingers.

Zavet smirked, pulling his cloak tighter around him. “Let’s see what else is lurking in that cave.”