* * * * *

Surviving is easy. Living is the hard part.

What are you living for?

* * * * *

* Ian -

Ian unlocked and opened his apartment door. The drive home had been a blur. The moment his tired ass had planted itself in the passenger seat, his body had shut down. It wasn’t his longest day. Or even, his deadliest. But, it was tiring nevertheless.

“I’ll walk you out.” Sarah had offered after the third yawn. “Do you need a ride?”

“I think I’ll be alright.” He’d evaded.

Out front, her surprise over the sight of Ember was understandable. His Demoness was perched atop the Lamborghini, in a delicious perversion of innocence. If Ember was aiming for a freshly-fucked look, Ian would award her an A+. Shredded leggings - black, hair - tousled, oversized T-shirt exposing her shoulder - one of his, strapless push-up bra - at least, he didn’t see a strap on that nude shoulder, and high-top converse - in baby blue. Yeah, she’d dressed to impress.

She’d then sauntered, swaggered, and siddled all in one, up to him, grabbed him by the front of his collar, and pulled him into a kiss. The warmth of her body was pliant. He palmed her ass, pulling her in, deepening the kiss. The way her form shaped around him informed his dormant libido he’d been wrong. Not a bra to be felt. Her wink added a cherry to her cake.

Addressing the agog officer over his shoulder, he said, “Come by the complex sometime to check out if it’s for you.”

In the car, Ember smirked as she made an illegal U-turn, and floored the car past the police station. Watching the pretty Detective in the rearview mirror. "You set 'em up and I'll knock 'em down," She murmured. He’d laughed. Life was good… wasn’t it?

A guilty pang spun through his thoughts. The news of Rachel, Lily’s revelation about Master Long, the Kin, the Night Watch, Inquisition… So many factors, each colliding and rebounding. Now that he was free from the interrogation, he allowed his mind to expand in circles of logic and happens-chance, putting together what he knew, and what he was able to intuit, from the city meeting.

The Sponsors wouldn't stand for anyone trying to destabilise the system. The Inquisition would see to that. The Factions wouldn’t want another force telling them what to do, they were criminal organisations when all was said and done. He’d already come to terms with the Inquisition, knowing - that despite being a branch of the FBI - their main job was to make sure the established order was kept, not keeping things ‘legal.’ Maybe in another time they’d been that way. Now; now they acted more like the Sponsors enforcer arm than a judicial service. The weak resistance they’d offered when Long tried to snare the Castile family was all the proof he needed. That wasn’t to say this clandestine police force couldn’t be useful. It was simply a case of finding the right time, and right way, to approach the powers that be to ensure his childhood friend stayed safe.

That was when Ember had nudged him. They were home. An odd sense of homeliness and welcoming brushed over him. Inside, Dani, surfing the internet on the couch, greeted them with a smile Ian couldn’t discern. At the breakfast table sat a white haired beauty. Her stare of wonderment made him uneasy, considering she didn’t blink. Grim and Scraps were on the balcony fiddling with a new grill, though their arguing was indicative of little progress.

Dani pointed to the guest bedroom. "The Banshee is still sleeping soundly," She told them in a quiet voice. “The Agent gave her something, so she might be out for a couple days.”

Ian nodded, lips pursing as he examined the sofa. They - Ember had told him to do it - had ordered a bed for Dani when it became obvious she had nowhere else to go.

“Lily?” He asked rhetorically.

She nodded. “Left a number.”

"Sorry to have you sleeping on the couch again," Ian apologised. "We might need a bigger apartment soon." Considering how hard he’d busted his hump for the Sponsors - those mythical nebulous entities that lorded over the underworld - he felt he was owed that much.

Ember let loose her musical laughter, "No way. We just need to get a bigger bed."

Dani’s pale cheeks flushed, "Don't worry about it.” She offered in a dry rush. “The couch feels great and I'm thankful for you guys putting me up." In a flash she’d regained her seat and was studiously ignoring everything outside of the laptops screen.

With that he allowed his perceptions to absorb the ethereal beauty patiently waiting at the table. Her own attentiveness never wavered, as if afraid to blink. Sharpened breathing, a stillness as her eyes followed his movements - admittedly he couldn’t actually see where her gaze landed, but he sure felt it examining him - combined with her straightening posture, and it became obvious she was barely containing her nervous excitement.

"I still can't believe I'm really alive," She murmured as he sat across from her. She cracked a tremulous smile. "Or that I can finally have a conversation with you."

Compared to Cassandra’s haunting callousness, this girl's timbre was calm, almost breathy. It held a youthful note to it that aided in cultivating her ephemeral aura.

"Well,” He offered with a soft smile of his own, “Technically you're not really alive."

Slender fingers waved the apology off. "I can feel again," She whispered. Twirling a lock of hair while sliding her hand over the table's cool granite surface, "You've no idea how excruciating it's been to exist without that simple pleasure. I don't think I could have retained my sanity if not for you. The fact that my flesh is preserved through our shared bond is nothing." Her head tilted down, gaze following the meanderings of the stone. "And I can still contact the dead, thanks to the Spirit Magic you’ve gifted me with… it’s something I’ll cherish." Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear she forced her chin up. “I suppose you have no idea who I am."

“If you don’t wan-”

“No,” She interrupted. “I do. I just…” She inhaled, swallowed, licked her lips, “"That night your sister died," She winced, "I was the beast's first victim…" Tears pooled as the memory of her death hit her in painful detail.

Ian was saved from choosing between his warring impulses when the woman shook her scrunched features, breaking away from whatever devils haunted her. He wasn’t so clueless as to be unaware she needed to work through this in her own time. Where he fit into that struggle, that was where he was clueless.

"I'd just turned twenty, I moved up here for college from California. My first year was useless. No friends, I was barely keeping up with classes, and the guy I was seeing turned out to be a cheating bastard. I was trapped and I just needed to get away. One day I just thought, screw it. Why not? I'd gotten sick of going to movies and parties by myself. I hated their weird looks. I just wanted to go someplace alone where I wouldn't be judged; where I could be free." She choked out a laugh. "Just my luck that the first time I went hiking I got attacked by a Werewolf."

She bowed her head, as if ashamed, and admitted, "Probably the worst thing that happened was that after it was all over, I was still there. I just felt… numb, looking down at my corpse thinking, 'what a waste.'" Her shoulders shook. "I didn't think of the parents I'd left behind, the people who loved me and would miss me… I didn't care!" She pushed out, as if blaming herself. Her hands came to her face and she cried. Nobody moved. Unspoken consensus said she needed this.

Ian lifted his hand out towards her but a dormant instinct told him to wait.

Sniffling her nose, and wiping her eyes on the back of her wrist, she soldiered on. "All I could think about… That I hope the next life isn't as shitty and unfulfilling as this one turned out to be." With an effort all could see, she gulped back her emotions while tear-stained eyes saw into a history that never was. "I was so close to just giving in and crossing over. I could feel the cold seeping in around me, pulling me towards the Plane of the Divine. Our souls aren't meant to survive here without a body to anchor us. Not intact."

"Then," That night filling her mind’s eye once more, "I heard the screams coming from your campsite. I tried to run towards the sound. As soon as I had the thought, I was there in the clearing with you." Her hiccoughing voice softened as she murmured, "Oh you should have seen your sister. You didn't have your Spirit Vision back then, but she was magnificent. A blazing Valkyrie with a shield of fire, standing in front of you, protecting you from anyone and anything."

"She humbled me. Here was someone who'd lived half my life a hundred times as full, and yet she burned with everything she had, fighting against the pull of the beyond to remain long enough to save you. I… I just- I just wanted to do something a fraction as brave and meaningful as she had before I left this world. I wanted to do something that she might’ve been proud of."

A shudder ran through her body as she rasped, "I chose to stay. I discovered that the energy you gave off was enough to keep my soul intact. As long as I stayed close to you, I could survive in this world. I watched you grow and found you had the same mettle as your sister. When your parents abandoned you, you remained strong. When you found out that the entire paranormal world wanted you dead, you took it in stride."

"I found in you something worth protecting; a goal that would have made your sister proud." She gave him a sad smile. "In the end, you never needed my help and I was content to simply stay on the sidelines, to watch you grow." She paused. "Now, you've given me life." She let out a shaky breath, pleading in a soft whisper, "Please don't send me away. I still haven't accomplished what I remained behind to do. And… I find I still need to be close to you. You've been what every aspect of my being has revolved around for nine years; years that felt like an eternity for me. I know I've only been part of yours for a short while, but please give me a chance."

Ember made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, got up, squeezed Ian’s shoulder, then walked off to join the two 'geniuses' still trying to light the grill.

The squeeze on his shoulder put Ian’s body into auto-pilot while his mind scampered down the rabbit hole. He’d watched his parents drive away from the front door, yet he’d not felt alone. He'd experimented with magic because he always felt capable of dealing with the consequences. He’d slept soundly at night, despite the risk of the restless dead overcoming him. Through it all, he’d never questioned himself, never probed into the ‘why’ of it all. If ever he had, Grim, or Rachel, had been the answer. They’d been ‘in’ his life. He’d never considered the spirits in that equation.

With the revelation of just how long this entity, this person, had been by his side… All at once, memories came together. They were little things, the small things he’d noticed or taken for granted. Down in the warrens of the brood, again in the motel when he’d chanced upon Lily, the warning that enabled his escape from the Inquisition back in his hometown. Not to mention his conversations with the dead, his forays into the Spirit World, she’d been there with him through it all.

‘Shit.’ He could slap himself. ‘She was the one who possessed Ashley.’ The recollection of the Inquisition Sorceress, her terror as the spirits overwhelmed her defences… ‘What must she think of me?’

The whisper of fingertips on his chest brought his appreciation into the moment. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, or for how long they’d been this way, but his arms around her shoulders felt right. She lay her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart. She was watching him, waiting for him, waiting for him to do something. His hand floated to her temple and the girl's white-hair. It was soft, yet cold to the touch. He likened it to the thinnest shard of ice on the verge of becoming water. His fingers moved up the strands to her jaw, running the backs of his fingernails to her ear. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering as the ticklish sensation. She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in his embrace.

"What's your name?" He asked his ever-present sentinel.

"My name when I was alive was Becca," She answered, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of her cheek resting against his broad chest, "But that doesn't seem like me anymore. I don't know if I want to be her. The second chance you've given me has allowed me to start over like I've always wanted. I want to be called… Eris.”

Ian breathed in the scent of her hair and hugged her tighter. "You need to be close to me?" He asked, repeating her words. She froze like a frightened doe. She nodded hesitantly. "Despite all you've seen of me?" He asked, keeping his face neutral.

She nodded rapidly. "'Because' of all I've seen," She clarified. "You're a leader, but you aren't controlling. I love how you can be compassionate yet devious. You're laid-back most of the time, but when your loved ones are in danger you can unleash a cold fury. You're giving, inspiring trust and confidence in others, but you ask for nothing in return." Her hand caressed his cheek. "I'm thankful that I died that night, because I got to know you."

The hard lump in the back of his throat brought moisture to his eyes. He looked up and away, shutter blinking as he coughed a dry throat. His hand came to find hers, taking her fingertips and brushing his lips across them. "You said you wanted to protect me?" He asked, his eyes flashing with passion. "Are you going to be 'my' blazing Valkyrie?" He pressed. Her eyes widened, heart racing. "Will you wield your sword against my enemies and be my bloodthirsty little Lich," He asked, exposing a watery smile.

She licked her lips, answer ragged, "Uh-huh."

He threaded his fingers through her white tresses, pulling tight, drawing a breathy gasp. "How many times did you watch while Ember and I had sex?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

She moaned as he brought his face close, his lips inches from hers. "Each and every time," She panted in need. "So many times… You've no idea how often I wanted to reach out and touch you."

Ian felt himself fall into her twin black pools, entranced by the devotion he saw staring back at him. “Now you can.”

He leaned in and met her lips with his. A snap of connectivity crackled, tingling and spiced as their powers interacted. Her hand clenched the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him in closer. He swept one arm around her waist, hand on the small of her back, while the other tangled ever deeper in her hair. She nipped at his lip, a thrilling moment of pain as her fangs dragged over the moist skin, tongues duelling, tasting and embracing one another, leaving them breathless. He pulled back slowly, a trail of Spiritfire connecting their lips, the source of the tingling crackle, that demanded he lean in and do it all again.

He carried her to the bedroom. This close, he could feel her. Not with his touch, but through his power. They mingled, a quasi-empathic link forming. He kicked the door shut behind him, setting the lithe woman down. The storm of emotions assailed him. The clawed hand of fear burned away as the feelings of lust and desire ignited into something more. They stood at the base of his bed, his hand on her shoulder, thumb on her pulse. Using that hold, he drew her in. She was living marble, smooth, soft, heated beneath the chill. Using his other hand, he glided it down the centre of her shirt, burning away the buttons. He did it slowly, drawing out the moment when the final button gave way...

* * * * *

* Ian -

Ian opened the sliding door to Ember on the balcony, both of them having tired out their partners. She smiled up at him, scotting over so he could join her on the lounge chair. The balcony wasn’t all that large. Wrapping around the corner of the apartment to connect the open plan living space with his master bedroom. Floor to ceiling glass made the apartment feel larger than it really was. In reality, it simply meant the curtains of the bedroom were permanently shut. That was, if Ember let him get his way. Pressed up in the corner, against the gun-grey railing, sat the new grill. It looked slightly bruised after Grim’s energetic attempts at DIY. Aside from the two elastic-wire lounge chairs, and it’s accompanying table - all in patented white - the space was bare.

Ember was sipping something that promised to be toxic to a lesser being, which she put aside when he emerged. Taking the space she’d created for him, and wrapping an arm about her thinly clad shoulders, he savoured the natural scent of her hair.

"How was she?" Ember asked with a giggle, snuggling into his embrace.

He rubbed his hand from her shoulder to elbow, "I never knew Spiritfire could be used that way…"

She laughed at his playful antics. A moment of silence passed.

"Dani will fit in nicely I think. She feels lost. She wants to fight the 9th Order, but doesn't know where to begin.” Warded words entwined with their lacing of fingers. “I told her she should take some time to find herself first.”

The distant sounds of traffic floated around them. “Find herself?” Ian eventually asked.

Ember nodded. “She’s been training her whole life. She’s been focused on one task so long she never got the chance to grow into her own person. We'll have to find some way to occupy her."

He laughed, she frowned. Realisation flushed and she joined him before pinching him in mock anger. "I didn't mean it like that! Although, I do think it helps." The young Slayer's initial moments of hesitation and self-loathing echoing in her murmured words.

Ian hugged her tighter.

Ember commented, "You said the city's new police task force is understaffed.”

“Yeah…” He said slowly. “Sarah said the main problem the Chief’s facing is finding people who've experienced supernatural events.”

Ember ran a fingernail across her eyebrow. “Who?”

“The Officer who got caught up in all this back in my hometown.” He outlined. “The one who walked me out?” When she nodded, “If Dani goes for it, everyone wins, especially us." He voiced his notion.

"You want an assassin to become a cop?" She gaped. Ian struggled to keep the tone serious. She made it sound like he was trying to get her to invest in slippers for bees.

He stretched down, swatting her ass playfully. "Think about it,” He brought them back to task, rubbing the handprint left by her stinging, retaliatory slap on his chest. “Less cop, more independent contractor., or private investigator.” He defended the idea. “She needs something more, they’re desperate for people, and I don’t trust the Inquisition.”

As he rubbed at the stinging reminder that Ember didn’t play fair, he saw her begin to mull over the idea. In a way it had some elegant prospects, not least the prospect of someone he knew to be very capable watching over his childhood friend. He knew the potential was there for other benefits, but he wasn’t sure if the time was right just yet to share some of those. A pang of guilt unsettled his gut. He didn’t want to think about Rachel right then. Weary cogs cranked into motion as possibilities came together. If it was going to work - much like everything in this climate of supplication - the Sponsors would need to show their hand first.

“If we pitch it right, we might even get them some funding from Solomon,” Ian yawned.

"Why would he want to help them?" She wondered.

"He wants Seattle to be autonomous," Ian answered. "Not only does that mean less reliance on an outside authority, but the police - as they stand now - are a hindrance to their operations. Their ignorance of what’s going on means they’re working at cross-purposes. The Fed’s waste time dealing with the PD while the cop’s resistance grows as they feel they’re being kept in the dark; which they are. He’ll go for it because he’s a businessman and you know how much business people hate inefficiency."

"Just make sure you're not assuming too much about these people," Ember warned. "At their heart, they're out for themselves."

Ian shrugged with a smile at her concern. That was something for down the line. Now, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze and the simple act of holding Ember in his arms.

"So," He ventured into the new moment, "You going to tell me what the Queen-Bee meant when she called me a 'son of Erebus?'"

Ember stiffened, then let out her breath and relaxed. Finally, she let out a tired, cynical chuckle. "Necromancers think they know everything there is to know about the Spiritual Realm," She muttered. "They like to think it's just some pit stop souls make on their way to the Realm of the Divine. As if we'd all still be beyond the Black Gate if it was just a tiny matter of crossing into another plane of existence."

Sensing she was losing him, "Imagine the Spirit Realm is under water," She imparted. "It presses on us. The deeper you go the more pressure that’s applied. Souls feel a pull to cross the Gate, just like someone swimming underwater is pulled to the surface. Some fight against it, leaving strong impressions behind that become spirits; floating throughout the world aimlessly or imprinting themselves onto a location."

"For a Demon that wants to come to this plane on their own, they'd have to fight against all that crushing pressure.” She took a sip of her drink. “And - even if they could survive that - without an anchor to bind themselves here, they'd always feel a pull drawing them towards the 'Black Gate.'" She was quiet for a while. Then she said, "There are never-ending philosophical debates on the subject regarding the factor of time and space; whether the events that happen in the Realm of the Dead show the past or the future. The only thing that matters for you to understand: the Spirit Realm is always changing, like eddies in a vast ocean."

"You are part of that changing world," She explained, "But because you're anchored here in this world as well, you act as a constant. That's where your 'Will' comes into play. You can cause those changes to occur. You can shift the water, pushing those wandering spirits out of the Spiritual Realm and into this one. You were able to pull me through the enormous depths separating your plane and mine, Willing it so the pressure didn't keep me there or crush me if I tried to fight it."

Ian nodded, starting to gain a vague understanding. "What's this got to do with Erebus?" He asked.

A sardonic grin formed as she looked skyward. "It's not water," She said. "The ancient Greeks called it 'Darkness.' What it actually is, no one knows, nor does it matter. Where your kind has it wrong," She told him, "Is that it's not the spirits you get your energy from, it's the Darkness itself."

Seeing his brow furrow, she stated, "You're channelling the Darkness into this Realm to maintain those spirits. You channel it as a fuel to burn your Spiritfire. That's why everyone is scared of your kind. You don't have billions of spirits worth of energy to draw on. You have the entire ocean those spirits reside 'in,' at your fingertips."

Ian thought about that. "So," He ventured, working it out, "Those spirits feel a pull to go back to their realm just like souls feel a pull towards the Divine. That's why they can't survive here on their own, why when spirits manifest themselves to take action, they're burning energy that's no longer available to them." He remembered when he'd drained the power from the spirits in the Vampire Brood to fuel Eris’s rebirth. If what she was telling him was true, and why wouldn’t it be, then he was draining the spirit's natural energy, and replacing it, without him even knowing.

He leaned back and looked up at the clouds moving to obscure the Moon. He'd just had his view of the cosmos turned on its head. He'd been using only a fraction of what was available to him. Not only that, he’d been going about it in an incredibly inefficient way.

Then Ember decided to screw with his head some more. "There is a particular meaning to the phrase the Vampire Queen used. I don't know how she learned of it, but I can guess it was while researching the Necromancer that created the talisman. There were Necromancers of old that had the willpower to take that Darkness into this Realm in its purest form. They had the discipline to shape it and use spirits to maintain its structure. In other words," She answered his confusion, "They didn't need to find a corpse to reanimate. They could simply summon a body of shadow that a spirit could inhabit."

“Spirits aint the most inspired bunch,” She admitted. “That meant more often than not; the summoned bodies were humanoid in shape. In ancient times there were rare cases of stranger, downright monstrous shadow beasts that made an appearance in an undead army.”

Ian whistled. "And this chick thought I could do that?" He wondered, stunned.

Ember laughed melodiously. "Oh, I 'know' you're like them," She assured him. "How else would you have created a Revenant that regenerates himself? Where exactly do you think he's getting the mountain of flesh and cloth to pull that off?” She teased. “He's bound to you, so he's able to take it without you even noticing."

“… Oh,” He mumbled. He hadn’t thought of that.

They sat in silence, soaking up the heat of the other's body. Ian knew not to press the matter. This was something she hadn’t told him. She had her reasons.

With a far-off look in her eye, "Necromancers weren't always feared you know. The association with digging up corpses. They were once praised for their abilities. All those old mythos stories you hear about? The ferryman guiding your soul across the river, ensuring it gets to the afterlife intact, helping you accept your death… That's you. That's what your kind did. There were no wandering spirits or lost souls. There were no Wraiths or Phantoms. The thought of a spirit in eternal torment would have been anathema to them."

She sat up slowly, staring at him with gleaming red eyes. "You will do great things, Ian," She promised. "Just never forget that we are all mortal. The ancient Necromancers who could do what you're able to, didn't die of old age…"

Ian looked into her ageless eyes, and nodded solemnly. Grinning, he raised his head to kiss her, savouring her soft lips and teasing tongue. She grinned wickedly, her serious demeanour falling away. They’d risked their lives today, there wasn’t any room for such serious talk.

Her tail grew with her arousal, beating against his leg playfully. "I think they've rested enough," She observed. He rolled his eyes, but she was already heading towards the bedroom.

Ian could say this about his lover, Ember made the most of every moment.

* * * * *

* Kristin -

Kristin Moriarty looked out at the city of Seattle from her sky rise hotel room. The city bore witness to her visceral glee. The sights, scents and sounds were foreign, exotic and stirred her imagination. Her oppressive life, cloistered away at her father's estate - where the other Noble Necromancer families played silly court games - was ‘insufferably’ boring.

She didn't know if she could take another year of it. Parties where everyone hated the other, where manipulation was rife, or where plastic smiles had fallen away into sour contempt. She’d become especially tired of pretentious fools asking for her ‘hand’ in marriage, or bypassing her and negotiating directly with her father.

They were all fools. They pretended their actions were somehow isolated from the rest of the world, like the events going on constituted a mere chess match. They were ignorant, and happily remained so. She knew better. She could see where the decrepit nature their insular fighting would lead.

While they were busy, suffering the defeat of a rival in an argument about the Spirit Realm, she was engaging in duels to gain power, status, and recognition. The thought of those stagnant morons remaining in power disgusted her. It sat heavy in her stomach like a greasy meal, uncomfortable and nauseating.

Emissaries from the various European Leagues came to the plane they had made their own almost daily. Every Family had mansions, or castles, connected by portal gates to Fel Manor on that otherworldly space. There, they held court, did research in the massive library - though each Family hid their own rare tomes - wrote treatises about Magic, held duels and various gladiatorial games, or toured the magnificent countryside that was a cross between England's Stratford-upon-Avon and France's Champagne region.

It was also where she and the other children of the High Families - those few remaining bloodlines that could trace their lineage back beyond the ancient Sumerians - grew up, attended studies, acquired social etiquette, and above all else, learned to hate each other. They were inscribed, even destined, to continue their family feuds and prejudices. It was here the major supernatural players of the world came. They would beseech the Necromancers, upon their gilded thrones, and mountain of power, for aid.

'Help us,' They'd say, 'The Demonic legions are trying to break into our plane of existence.'

'The magical authority in America refuses to pay tribute or listen to our decrees.' Whinged another.

'There's a contingent of Mages that have learned a dark art, and are killing off casters and absorbing their power.' Grovelled another puppet.

On and on they'd plead and each time the Nobles of the High Families would sit with contemptuous boredom, privately glad to be asked, yet 'disinclined' to lift a finger. As a pathetic epitaph to surmise the hallucinatory state in which she'd lived; the moment it became known an artefact was pilfered from their treasury, they'd been ready to wage war to reclaim it. Opportunity presented itself and, with some minor manipulations, she'd 'volunteered' to retrieve the talisman, simply to get away from that insufferable manor.

She sighed in remembrance. There was always more to the story. She knew they had their reasons in the beginning, purged and afraid - fearful of losing their power - they'd retired from the world and become guarded. Mistrustful to the point of paranoia, they had cemented themselves that they, and only they, would hold such power. They could justify it in any number of ways; to protect the established order, to ensure stability, to lessen the risk a consumed Necromancer could pose… She knew it was based solely on greed - a front to maintain their supremacy and prestige.

Bare feet upon polished wooden planking, a chill sea breeze whirling, and the Moon's silvery light carving the stone city in streaks, her thoughts turned to the one who held the talisman. She’d tracked it here, to this city. Tomorrow, she would grant the man an audience, and see for herself if a reminder was required. To remind the world that the Necromancers who were still alive hadn't lost their teeth; that they hadn't grown weak and complacent.

She frowned as she thought about her other mission. They'd all felt the disturbance in the Spirit Realm. The elders had convened for a hearing on the matter, delving deep into texts and debate about what, and of greater concern 'who,' could have caused such a shift. Two days later they'd concluded she was to do everything within her power to discover whatever it was and, if possible, destroy it. She'd accepted without thinking. As far as she was concerned, anything that prolonged her trip was a blessing from the Ancestors.

From her perch above the city, she reached out her arms, calling spirits to her. Organised into two parties, she sent them to their task. One would search for the Honourable Master Long. The other, would search for the source of the drain.