Sat against the wall of the chamber, Ash wasn’t sure if his hands were numb because of the cold, or the ropes cutting into his skin. Having never entered a cave this large, and this deep underground, he would have never guessed it could be so cold. Of course it was – the Spire’s light had never reached this place, so it was colder than even the darkest shadow he stepped in.

The Apostle and her men, followers of some Lord they seemed set on reviving, were hard at work drawing complex magical circles with a thick, dark red liquid on the ground, turning the cavern into some sort of massive ritual ground.

Since there was nothing to do but wait, most of the students were just silently sitting and watching their captors work. Some had dozed off as exhaustion caught up with them soon after they sat down.

Ash dug his nails into his palms to try and stay awake. He already was unsure of how much time had passed, if he fell asleep, he would lose track of time completely.

Seconds turned into minutes, and eventually, after possibly a few hours passed, the Apostle’s followers began to gather around her, putting their buckets full of hopefully-not-blood towards the entrance of the cavern.

The Apostle watched them all gather before her with a satisfied smile on her lips. “You have done well!” She declared loudly, startling the dozed off students awake and gathering everyone’s attention on herself. “The ritual is ready. Let us begin!” Her voice echoed in the chamber as she spun around theatrically and walked up to the sarcophagus at the centre of the round chamber.

Her hands clutched the pendant hanging over her chest. The black, mist-like mana swirled around her. “Bring them!” She ordered, pointing at the student nearest to her.

Two of her followers walked up to the students, forcing him to stand up. “What?” The student’s frightened voice echoed in the chamber. “Wait, what’s going on? Let go of me!” his voice grew sharper with each step they dragged him. He kicked the air, trying to free himself, but to no avail. “What do you want from me? Let me go!”

Ash couldn’t look away as the student was brought to the Apostle. She grabbed his throat and pushed his face down towards the sarcophagus as he screamed, kicked, and struggled. With her free hand, she reached for a small knife hanging from her belt.

Ash felt his heart sink.

She ran the dagger across the student’s cheek, cutting his skin and drawing blood. “Be quiet now.” She spoke nonchalantly as she watched drops of blood slowly run down the man’s chin, and finally drop onto the sarcophagus.

A few moments passed in silence as everyone held their breath. Then, the Apostle let out a sigh. “Clearly not.” She scoffed and slit the man’s throat.

His heart skipped a beat as he watched a man die so quickly. One moment he was alive, the next his life was taken, and his body tossed aside as if it was trash. The sound of the body falling to the ground a little further from the platform the sarcophagus was on, echoed in his mind.

“No!” The next student screamed with a voice full of terror. As they pulled her up on her feet and dragged her towards the Apostle, her screams embedded themselves in everyone’s minds. She kicked, bit, and struggled, only to be pushed towards the sarcophagus, her cheek cut, and her blood dripped onto it.

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Ash watched in horror as her body was tossed aside moments later as well. The Apostle clicked her tongue and called out once more. “Next.”

Screams and shouts rose as everyone began to protest. “Let go of us!” “You’re insane!” “No!” Screams echoed in the chamber, but one by one they were silenced. As the bodies on the ground started to outnumber the living students, the Apostle started to grow visibly impatient.

“Next!” She shouted.

Two pairs of hands reached for his arms and pulled him up on his feet. His heart skipped a beat as realisation set in. He was next. He was going to die.

“Ash!” Theresa’s desperate scream echoed in the chamber. “Ash, no! Let go of him!” She had cried like this for her two friends. Now she cried for him. If she survived, she would have a long road ahead of her before she recovered from seeing all of this.

His own thoughts surprised him. Why was he thinking about her now, moments before his death? He shot a glance at her over his shoulder as they forced him up the steps leading to the sarcophagus. Her eyes were filled with tears, she seemed out of it. Her lips moved, but his own heartbeat drowned out her voice.

“Well then.” The Apostle raised her chin as her fingers clenched his throat. “I hoped you would live to see our Lord rise, you would have made a fine sacrifice to return him to his former glory.” She almost sounded disappointed. “But I suppose a Twilit’s body would do fine as well.”

She cut his cheek and forced him to bend towards the stone sarcophagus.

Now that he could look at it closely, he could see how detailed the carvings on it were. They depicted a sleeping man holding a wreath of flowers. The expression on the man’s face was carved to be solemn and peaceful. He wore a horn-like crown. His clothes – long, flowing robes were beautified with delicate patterns carved with care.

This wasn’t supposed to be a place of murder and dark magic. This place was meant to be the final resting place of a man long dead. A man respected enough by his people that such beautiful burial grounds were prepared for him.

The couple of drops of blood running down his cheek tickled him. His heart sank as he watched the drop of blood fall onto the sarcophagus, onto the wreath of flowers carved so beautifully. He held his breath, waiting for the knife to end his life.

A second passed, then another, and a third. Then, the flowers turned crimson red. The think layer of dust resting on the sarcophagus vibrated.

“Ha!” The Apostle shouted, pulling him away from the sarcophagus. Her eyes glimmered with an uncanny light as she took him to the edge of the platform. “Begin!” She shouted, “We have found our key!”

“What?” Ash asked, but his voice faded as crimson and black mana rose from all over the burial grounds. Streaks of crimson mana swirled around the sarcophagus, latching onto its thick, stone lid, and slowly lifting it up.

“You’ve lost your mind!” Theresa screamed. “You’ll use necromancy? The Oracle will notice this right away, you know it.”

The terror in her voice sent shivers down Ash’s spine. Necromancy – he heard Princess Aoife speak of it before, when they were trying to reach Bhaile-Morn. She or Prince Daith had said something similar once. That the oracle would have found any trace of necromancy immediately.

He needed to get away from here before whatever ritual they prepared began. Before their necromancy spells took effect. “You got what you wanted,” he shouted at the Apostle in an attempt to have his voice heard. “Let go of me!”

The Apostle laughed at his words. “We would never defile our Lord’s body and soul with something as vile as necromancy.” She declared. “No, we are resurrecting him.” She pointed at the sarcophagus, her voice filled with despicable glee.

The lid of the sarcophagus, depicting the man resting within, had rose several meters high, fully revealing the body of their Lord.

Ash felt his heart sink as his gaze settled on the body of their lord. That was no crown on his head, those were a pair of horns, elegant and beautiful. His pale, ashen face was solemn. Long, flowing silver-white hair covered the bottom of the sarcophagus. A thin, scaly tail was barely visible beneath the strands of hair, and the crimson flowers placed all around his body.

That was the dead body of a demon. Of the Duskborn that plagued the northern borders of the Empire since the dawn of time. One of those creatures who thrived on Soul Magic.

“You want to resurrect a demon?!” he gasped.

The Apostle’s maniacal laughter echoed in the chamber. “He will rise again!” She shouted, then pushed Ash into the sarcophagus.