Three months had passed since the fall of Linguard. Three months since Madison had washed up on the coast of Northport, alone and broken. Three months since she'd lost everything—her family, her friends, her future. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd risked, was gone.
She sat on the beach, her hands calloused from months of fishing, her clothes simple and worn, her sword hidden away in a chest in her small room. The Sword of Fury. The blade that had consumed her father. The blade that was consuming her. The blade she'd sworn never to touch again.
But she was an Elite Knight. She'd been promoted. She'd earned the rank. But what did it matter? Her family was dead. Her friends were dead. Everything was gone. And there was nothing she could do about it.
"Madison," a voice called, and she turned to see Kael approaching, his fishing net slung over his shoulder, his face weathered from years at sea. He was a simple man, a fisherman like most in Northport, but he'd been kind to her. He'd helped her understand the town, helped her find work, helped her survive.
"You're up early," Kael said, settling beside her on the sand. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Couldn't sleep," Madison said, though the words felt hollow. She hadn't slept well in months. Every night, she saw it—the fireball striking her family's ship, the explosion, the flames consuming everything. Her mother. Her brother. Gone.
"You're thinking about them again," Kael said, his voice gentle. "Your family."
"I'm always thinking about them," Madison said, though she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. But she couldn't help it. They were always there, in the back of her mind, a constant reminder of what she'd lost.
"Everyone knows about the attack," Kael said. "Linguard. The demon. The undead. People are saying it was a demon attack, that demons were controlling the undead. But demons haven't existed in years. Centuries, even. They were destroyed long ago."
"Demons," Madison repeated, though she knew the truth. It wasn't a demon. It was dark magic. Necromancy. The same corruption that was spreading through the empire. But she couldn't tell him that. Not here. Not now. Not when she was trying to forget, trying to move on.
"The emperor tried to repel the attack," Kael said. "But he couldn't. He retreated to Haze with the prince. A lot of people died. A lot of innocent people. Families of the warriors. People like you."
"People like me," Madison said, though the words felt heavy. She was one of them. A warrior. A participant in the trials. Someone who'd lost everything.
"You should go back," Kael said. "To Haze. To the capital. You're an Elite Knight. You could help. You could make a difference."
"I can't," Madison said, though she didn't want to explain. She didn't have the money. She didn't have the equipment. She didn't have anything. And even if she did, what would be the point? Her family was gone. Her friends were gone. Everything was gone.
"You could," Kael said. "But you've chosen not to. You've chosen to stay here. To fish. To forget."
"I haven't forgotten," Madison said, though the words felt like a lie. She was trying to forget. She was trying to move on. But she couldn't. The memories were always there, haunting her, consuming her.
"Then why stay?" Kael asked. "Why not go back? Why not fight?"
"Because I'm done fighting," Madison said, though she knew it wasn't true. The sword still hummed, still hungered, and she could feel that dark hunger spreading through her. She wasn't done fighting. She was just... tired. Exhausted. Broken.
"Done fighting," Kael repeated, though he didn't sound convinced. "An Elite Knight. Done fighting. That doesn't sound right."
"It doesn't matter," Madison said, though she knew it did. It mattered more than anything. But she couldn't explain. Not to him. Not to anyone. Not when she was trying to forget, trying to move on.
They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the waves crash against the shore, the salt tang of the sea filling the air. The sun was rising, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and for a moment, Madison could almost forget. Almost.
"Did you hear?" Kael asked, his voice breaking the silence. "The militia. The army from Northport. They're being called to Barlin. To help with the undead raids."
"Undead raids?" Madison asked, though her blood ran cold. Undead. The same undead that had attacked Linguard. The same undead that had killed her family.
"Aye," Kael said. "Barlin's been hit. Multiple times. Undead attacks. Just like Linguard. People are saying it's the same thing. The same demon. The same corruption."
Madison's heart pounded in her chest. The same thing. The same attacks. The same corruption. She'd been right. It wasn't isolated. It wasn't random. It was connected. It was all part of the same plan.
"Barlin," Madison said, though she'd never been there. She didn't know much about it. But she knew it was a city, a place of power, a place where things happened. And if the undead were attacking there, if the same corruption was spreading...
"The army's leaving tomorrow," Kael said. "Most of them. To help Barlin defend. But that means Northport will be vulnerable. If the undead attack here, we won't have enough soldiers to defend. We'll be overrun."
Madison's jaw tightened. Northport. Vulnerable. Undead attacks. The same corruption. She could feel it, a connection, a pattern, something that tied everything together. But she didn't know what. Not yet.
"You should go with them," Kael said. "To Barlin. You're an Elite Knight. You could help. You could make a difference."
"I'm not fighting anymore," Madison said, though the words felt hollow. The sword still hummed, still hungered, and she could feel that dark hunger spreading through her. She wasn't done fighting. She was just... tired. Exhausted. Broken.
"Not fighting anymore," Kael repeated, though he didn't sound convinced. "An Elite Knight. Not fighting anymore. That doesn't sound right."
"It doesn't matter," Madison said, though she knew it did. It mattered more than anything. But she couldn't explain. Not to him. Not to anyone. Not when she was trying to forget, trying to move on.
But the connection was there. The pattern. The corruption. And she couldn't ignore it. Not anymore.
The magic was wrong. Aloysia Ward could feel it, a subtle wrongness that permeated the very air, like a poison seeping into the world. She stood in her study, her hands moving over a scrying crystal, her eyes fixed on the patterns of energy that flowed through the empire.
The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of magic, the faint crackle of the crystal, the distant sound of the city outside. But Aloysia could feel it—the wrongness, the corruption, the dark magic spreading through the empire like a disease.
"Your Majesty," her advisor said, his voice tight with concern. "The readings are consistent. Unusual magic. From Dron. But it's not natural. It's... manufactured. Created."
"Created how?" Aloysia asked, though she already suspected the answer. She'd been investigating for months, tracking the unusual magic, following the patterns, connecting the dots. And everything pointed to one thing—dark magic. Necromancy. The kind that had been prohibited since the Race Wars.
"Dark magic," the advisor replied, his voice heavy. "Necromancy. The kind that's been prohibited since the Race Wars. The kind that Sante used. And the shipments... they're coming from Dron. To Haze. Runes. Powerful runes. The kind that shouldn't exist."
Aloysia's jaw tightened. Dron. The trade island. The one ruled by Daniel Steelsoul, the king who was known for his deals, his connections, his willingness to do whatever it took to maintain power. And if he was shipping runes to Haze, if he was working with the emperor, if he was involved in the creation of Sudden Death runes...
"Sudden Death runes," Aloysia said, though she hadn't meant to say it aloud. But the pieces were coming together. The emperor. Pharus. Daniel Steelsoul. Dark magic. Necromancy. Sudden Death runes.
The same runes that Remirik had created. The same runes that had consumed him. The same runes that were supposed to be destroyed, never to be created again.
But the emperor was creating them. With Pharus's help. With dark magic from Pyrathis's necromancers. And he was doing it in secret, breaking the very laws he'd sworn to uphold.
"Your Majesty," another voice said, and Aloysia turned to see her mother's old advisor approaching, his face grim. "King Daniel Steelsoul has arrived. He requests an audience. He says it's urgent."
"Urgent," Aloysia repeated, though the words felt heavy. Daniel Steelsoul. The king of Dron. The one who was shipping runes to Haze. The one who was working with the emperor. The one who was involved in the corruption.
"Show him in," Aloysia said, though she didn't want to. She didn't trust him. She didn't trust anyone. Not anymore. Not when the corruption was spreading, when the empire was falling apart.
Daniel Steelsoul entered the room, his presence filling the space, his eyes sharp and calculating. He was a tall man, his build strong, his face weathered from years at sea. But there was something else there, something dark, something dangerous.
"Queen Aloysia," Daniel said, his voice smooth but his eyes sharp. "Thank you for seeing me. I know you've been investigating. The unusual magic. The shipments. The corruption."
"I have," Aloysia said, though she didn't want to admit it. Not to him. Not when he was involved. Not when he was part of the problem.
"And what have you found?" Daniel asked, though his tone suggested he already knew. "What have you discovered?"
"Enough," Aloysia said, though she didn't want to say more. Not to him. Not when he was involved. Not when he was part of the corruption.
"Enough," Daniel repeated, though his eyes narrowed. "Enough to be dangerous. Enough to be a threat. Enough to make people... nervous."
"Nervous," Aloysia said, though she knew what he meant. She was getting too close. She was discovering too much. And that made her dangerous. That made her a threat.
"Your Majesty," Daniel said, his voice smooth but his eyes sharp. "I understand your concerns. I understand your investigation. But some things are better left alone. Some truths are better left buried."
"Some truths," Aloysia said, though she knew what he meant. The Sudden Death runes. The dark magic. The corruption. The emperor's involvement. All of it. All of it was better left alone. All of it was better left buried.
But she couldn't. Not anymore. Not when the corruption was spreading, when the empire was falling apart, when innocent people were dying.
"I understand," Aloysia said, though she didn't. Not really. Not when the corruption was spreading, when the empire was falling apart, when innocent people were dying.
"Good," Daniel said, though his eyes said something else entirely. "Then we understand each other. And we can work together. For the good of the empire."
"For the good of the empire," Aloysia repeated, though the words felt heavy. The empire. The corruption. The truth. All of it was connected. All of it was part of the same problem.
But she couldn't say anything. Not to him. Not when he was involved. Not when he was part of the corruption.
"Your Majesty," Daniel said, his voice smooth but his eyes sharp. "I'll be staying in Barlin for a few days. To help with the defense. To coordinate the response. And to... ensure everything is in order."
"Everything is in order," Aloysia said, though she knew it wasn't. Not anymore. Not when the corruption was spreading, when the empire was falling apart, when innocent people were dying.
"Good," Daniel said, though his eyes said something else entirely. "Then we understand each other. And we can work together. For the good of the empire."
He bowed, then left, and Aloysia was alone again, her hands moving over the scrying crystal, her eyes fixed on the patterns of energy that flowed through the empire. The corruption. The dark magic. The Sudden Death runes. All of it was connected. All of it was part of the same problem.
But she was getting too close. She was discovering too much. And that made her dangerous. That made her a threat.
And threats had a way of being eliminated.
She knew it. She could feel it. The danger. The threat. The corruption closing in around her like a noose.
But she had no choice. She had to investigate. She had to discover the truth. She had to stop the corruption.
Even if it meant her life.
Boston stood in the shadows, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the caravan. It was a rich one, loaded with goods, with runes, with supplies. Easy pickings. Or it would be, if he could get past the guards.
But the guards were distracted. The undead attacks had everyone on edge, and the caravan's guards were more concerned with the threat from outside than the threat from within. Which made them vulnerable. Which made them easy targets.
"Ready?" one of his crew asked, his voice low. "The guards look tired. They've been on the road for days. This should be easy."
"Easy," Boston repeated, though he didn't want to. Not really. Not when innocent people were dying, when the empire was falling apart, when the corruption was spreading. But he had no choice. He had to survive. He had to provide for his crew. And if that meant poaching caravans, if that meant taking advantage of the chaos, then so be it.
He was a knight. He'd been trained. He'd been promoted. But he'd also been betrayed. He'd also been abandoned. The empire had promised him glory, had promised him honor, but all it had given him was pain, was loss, was nothing.
And that had changed him. That had made him something else. Something more. And something less.
"On my signal," Boston said, his hand tightening on his sword. "We hit them hard. We take what we can. And we get out. Fast. No killing unless we have to. We're not monsters. We're just... desperate."
"Desperate," his crew repeated, though they didn't sound convinced. They were nervous. They were scared. But they were also desperate. And desperation made people do things they wouldn't normally do.
Boston's jaw tightened. He was a knight. He'd been trained. He'd been promoted. But he'd also been betrayed. He'd also been abandoned. And that had changed him. That had made him something else. Something more. And something less.
But he had no choice. He had to survive. He had to provide for his crew. And if that meant poaching caravans, if that meant taking advantage of the chaos, then so be it.
"Now," Boston said, and they charged, their swords drawn, their voices raised in battle cries. The caravan's guards were caught off guard, their weapons drawn but their movements slow, their defenses weak. Boston's crew cut through them like butter, their strikes precise, their movements fluid.
But Boston held back. He didn't want to kill. Not if he didn't have to. Not when innocent people were dying, when the empire was falling apart, when the corruption was spreading. He just wanted the goods. The runes. The supplies. That was all.
"Stand down!" Boston shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos. "We don't want to kill you! Just give us the goods! The runes! The supplies! And we'll leave! No one has to die!"
But the guards didn't listen. They fought, their swords drawn, their movements desperate, and Boston had no choice. He had to fight. He had to kill. He had to survive.
Within minutes, it was over. The guards were dead, their bodies scattered, their blood staining the ground. The caravan was theirs. The goods. The runes. The supplies. All of it.
"Take what you can," Boston said, his voice tight. "And get out. Fast. Before more guards arrive."
"More guards," his crew repeated, though they didn't sound convinced. They were nervous. They were scared. But they were also desperate. And desperation made people do things they wouldn't normally do.
Boston's jaw tightened. He was a knight. He'd been trained. He'd been promoted. But he'd also been betrayed. He'd also been abandoned. And that had changed him. That had made him something else. Something more. And something less.
But he had no choice. He had to survive. He had to provide for his crew. And if that meant poaching caravans, if that meant taking advantage of the chaos, then so be it.
Even if it meant losing himself completely.
The days passed in a blur of fishing and forgetting, of trying to move on, of trying to forget. But Madison couldn't forget. Not really. Not when the memories were always there, haunting her, consuming her.
She sat on the beach, her hands calloused from months of fishing, her clothes simple and worn, her sword hidden away in a chest in her small room. The Sword of Fury. The blade that had consumed her father. The blade that was consuming her. The blade she'd sworn never to touch again.
But she was an Elite Knight. She'd been promoted. She'd earned the rank. But what did it matter? Her family was dead. Her friends were dead. Everything was gone. And there was nothing she could do about it.
"Madison," Kael said, his voice urgent. "The army. They've left. Most of them. To help Barlin. That means Northport is vulnerable. If the undead attack here, we won't have enough soldiers to defend. We'll be overrun."
Madison's jaw tightened. Northport. Vulnerable. Undead attacks. The same corruption. She could feel it, a connection, a pattern, something that tied everything together. But she didn't know what. Not yet.
"You should go with them," Kael said. "To Barlin. You're an Elite Knight. You could help. You could make a difference."
"I'm not fighting anymore," Madison said, though the words felt hollow. The sword still hummed, still hungered, and she could feel that dark hunger spreading through her. She wasn't done fighting. She was just... tired. Exhausted. Broken.
"Not fighting anymore," Kael repeated, though he didn't sound convinced. "An Elite Knight. Not fighting anymore. That doesn't sound right."
"It doesn't matter," Madison said, though she knew it did. It mattered more than anything. But she couldn't explain. Not to him. Not to anyone. Not when she was trying to forget, trying to move on.
But the connection was there. The pattern. The corruption. And she couldn't ignore it. Not anymore.
They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the waves crash against the shore, the salt tang of the sea filling the air. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red, and for a moment, Madison could almost forget. Almost.
And then she heard it—the sound of horns, distant but growing closer. The sound of marching feet, thousands of them, moving in unison. The sound of something large, something powerful, something that made her stomach twist with fear.
"Madison," Kael said, his voice panicked. "The horns. The battle horns. The undead. They're here. They're attacking Northport."
Madison's blood ran cold. The undead. Attacking Northport. The same undead that had attacked Linguard. The same undead that had killed her family. They were here. They were attacking. And Northport was vulnerable. The army was gone. Most of the soldiers were in Barlin, helping with the defense. That meant Northport was defenseless. That meant Northport would fall.
"Madison," Kael said, his voice urgent. "We have to go. We have to get to safety. The town hall. It's the safest place. The soldiers will defend it. They'll protect us."
"Protect us," Madison repeated, though she knew it wasn't true. Not with most of the army gone. Not with the undead attacking. Not with the corruption spreading.
But she had no choice. She had to go. She had to get to safety. She had to survive.
Even if it meant losing herself completely.
They ran, their boots pounding against the cobblestones, their breath coming in gasps. The horns were louder now, the sound of marching feet closer, the smell of smoke and death filling the air. The undead were here. They were attacking. And Northport was vulnerable.
They reached the town square, and Madison's heart sank. The undead were already inside the city, their bodies moving through the streets like a tide of death. Skeletons with rusted weapons. Ghouls with fangs bared. Mummies wrapped in ancient bandages. All of them moving in unison, all of them killing, all of them destroying.
The soldiers were fighting, their swords drawn, their movements desperate, but they were outnumbered. The undead were everywhere, their numbers seemingly endless, their movements jerky and unnatural. They were killing, they were destroying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
"Madison," Kael said, his voice panicked. "The town hall. We have to get to the town hall. It's the safest place. The soldiers will defend it. They'll protect us."
"Protect us," Madison repeated, though she knew it wasn't true. Not with the undead inside the city. Not with the soldiers overwhelmed. Not with the corruption spreading.
But she had no choice. She had to go. She had to get to safety. She had to survive.
Even if it meant losing herself completely.
They pushed through the chaos, their eyes scanning for threats, their bodies tense with fear. The undead were everywhere, their movements jerky and unnatural, their eyes glowing with malevolent light. They were killing, they were destroying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
And then she saw it—the gates. The city gates. They were being forced open, splintered wood and twisted metal flying in all directions. The undead were breaking through. They were flooding into the city. They were overrunning Northport.
"Madison," Kael said, his voice panicked. "The gates. They're breaking through. The undead are inside. We have to run. We have to get away."
"Run," Madison repeated, though she knew it wasn't that simple. Not with the undead everywhere. Not with the city falling. Not with the corruption spreading.
But she had no choice. She had to run. She had to get away. She had to survive.
Even if it meant losing herself completely.