image [https://i.imgur.com/yFu9mOD.png]

I

Undead Rebirth

The year was 5869, following the Luciarian Calendar. Necropolis was quiet. Even with the hail thundering from the sky. Hidden within the streets of the great city were the restless undead, all awaiting my orders. I watched from the balcony of my palace. Necron knew no sun, and so all my days were spent in utter darkness. Yet I saw everywhere. The pale undead were my eyes, their numbers were legion. All my enemies were dead—swallowed and conscripted into my ranks. So, too, were my family and closest advisers.

Empress, came the call from behind.

I languidly glanced over my shoulder. The Deathguard was like the city, quiet except for the scraping of his cuisse as he knelt.

Speak.

My Empress, Archon Syiin is ready.

Twirling around, the hem of my dress whispered. I strode past the kneeling guard into the hall connecting the balcony and my chamber, and the six guards standing at attention near the exit spread out behind me like wings.

I admired the paintings on the walls for what would be the last time. One showed my late husband, Lucian, countenance stern, sitting on a high-backed, walnut chair wearing his red and black ceremonial robe.

It was the complete opposite of how he had been in life, but he had insisted on the pose because: ‘It’s cool, Sephie.’ My lips curved.

I passed a depiction of my three children, Diane, Elias, and Khaine. They had inherited my white hair and sharp but dignified features, to the consternation of their Father.

All four of them had been lost during the War of Heaven.

My eyes went to the front. Two maids waited on either side of the necronite entrance to my chamber. Necronite was an alloy found in all our strongest weapons, so opening the door was no easy feat. These undead had been trained specifically to complete that task.

The only sound was an intake of breath from the gaping room beyond, then I was inside.

Archon Syiin, a twisted and stooped individual who lurked without trying, was standing next to my bed. He shoved the white drapes of the four-poster bed aside with his sceptre, so I could freely enter. I paused before doing so, my gaze falling on a green solution inside a vial and an empty syringe on a table nearby.

That will put me to sleep? I asked.

Yes, Silent Empress. This humble servant will administer it over the course of a year.

I huffed and climbed inside, quietly watching as the Deathguards surrounded my bed, necronite blades poised and ready to strike at any intruder.

I turned to my Archon. Syiin, a question, if you will.

My Empress?

Do you remember the Century of Strife? I said, side-eyeing him.

All of it, my Empress.

A pause. Even how I slaughtered your entire family and raised them?

A masterful move on your part, my Empress. It put you in control of the economical heartland of the South.

I listened to how the hail splattered against the window panes.

Will you enjoy killing me? I asked finally.

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No, my Empress. Not a hint of hesitation or emotion in his tone.

I sighed, closed my eyes, and waited. After what felt like an eternity, the syringe penetrated into my bone marrow, and the fluid dug in. It didn’t hurt. It was like a cold was spreading through me, but a gentle one. Before my consciousness fell away, I gave my armies one last command: to defend this place to the last undead. Necron was our planet—the one my family had sacrificed everything for. It was only fitting the benefactors now did the same.

image [https://i.imgur.com/z6G5s0x.png]

Sepharin K. Vrost =

{

Skills =

[Lesser Frost Necromancy, Lesser Frost Manipulation, Minor Miasma Control,

Minor Necromancy, Minor Frostmancy]

Racials =

[Icy Veins, Goliath, Overbearing, Callous, Vorst]

Miasma =

895/895

Skill Points =

0

}

I was awake from one moment to the next like I’d never gone to sleep.

The first thing I noticed was the roughness of paper between my fingers. I was holding a note. A single line written in red, dripping letters read: The key to the realm lies in the heart of the Forest.

I turned the note over. Nothing. I frowned. Necron doesn’t have any forests.

I put the note down on the surface of a desk made of smooth, dark wood and looked around. Two bookcases lined the side walls. From the centre wall hung a painting. White hair fell down the shoulders of a man in armour, who glared at his audience, leaning on the pommel of a blade. The blade wasn’t necronite, and the man was unfamiliar to me.

Where am I? A set of new instincts answered: This is my estate.

The estate of Sepharin K. Vrost.

And who was that supposed to be? I rotated an oval mirror with golden markings along its edges. The reflection wasn’t mine. At least, not what I expected to be mine. The hair was white, and the skin so pale and lifeless it was nearly grey. The piercing blue eyes were on point, too, and the so was the long, elegant face. But the proportions were…what word was I looking for?

Human, I thought after a moment.

Yes. They were human. So, too, was the animation. My chest was rising and falling, and a wet sound played when I opened and closed my mouth. Then there was the light. A lamp at the edge of my desk cast out the darkness sneaking up on me. I couldn’t see into the shadows.

I changed race…how is that possible? Had Syiin made a mistake…improbable. But then what? Was my mind passing time? Possible; the potion would kill me, but it would take a year. However. These sensations—they are real, I thought. And I had never been terribly creative.

Then there were the words floating in front of me.

Racials =

[Icy Veins, Goliath, Overbearing, Callous, Vorst]

I had no idea what half of them meant, yet I recognised the term Racials. Lucian had mentioned them once. They were a part of a game, a creation of his home world.

Could it be…?

I looked around, stood, and moved to a window on my right. Sharp breath flew past my nostrils (I would need to get used to that). A storm of snow fell from the heavens. Snow wasn’t new to me, yet seeing it in the light was. They were like a great swarm of Dronides, an insectoid xenos, that swallowed all in sight. Only less deadly. A man with a hunched back fought against the storm, shovelling heaps of it into a cart. Gravel showed itself where his shovel had passed, revealing a road that led to an iron gate and a stone wall that ran around the entirety of the estate. I imagined the way the path slithered underneath the snow, and my eyes passed two men on horses dragging a wagon and landed on a great shadow beyond the wall of falling white.

What is that? The shadow stretched as far east and west as I could see. Was it a fortification? It was immense, if so.

This place was…

I turned at the sound of knocking. Come in. I waited, but the door remained shut.

The knocking came again.

I frowned, realising the issue. ‘Come in,’ I said. The ice in my voice surprised me. How many centuries had it been since I had uttered a word?

A girl wearing a dark, long, and wide skirt bowed before entering. ‘Milady, I have news.’

My eyes narrowed as I studied her. She didn’t radiate a shred of death energy.

Kneel, I thought. And though the girl trembled underneath my silent gaze, she remained standing.

‘I’m listening,’ I said. My hands went behind my back, and I turned to the shadow of the mighty wall.

The girl bowed deeply. ‘Your shipment has arrived, Milady.’

‘Shipment?’

‘Th—the one from Castle Frost, Milady?’

I spared her a glance. ‘What did I ask for?’ The remark came out as a snide. As if I was challenging her authority to say I had asked such a thing.

The girl shrunk, lowering her head until she almost touched the floor. ‘I—I didn’t mean to presume, Milady. Please forgive me.’

‘You misunderstand. I’m asking you: What are they bringing?’

She carefully raised her head. ‘Lord Blackwater of Castle Frost sent two of his frostguards. They bring a set of corpses at your behest, Milady.’

Corpses? The skill list mentioned necromancy. Was that what this was about?

‘Or so they claim,’ she hurriedly added. ‘Was it a mistake, Milady? I can ask Sir Decim to send them away.’

‘No, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘Lead me to them.’

The maid eyed me discretely. ‘…are you changing, Milady?’

I glanced down. The linen shirt and thin trousers indeed wouldn’t hold outside. Not since the change to my physique.

‘Lead me to my wardrobe,’ I said, moving before the maid could say anything.

Let us see who these frostguards were.