Craven didn’t smile, even though his lips wanted to. He watched Wreath glower, while all around him the Necromancers were looking at Melancholia with a new level of understanding. It was a masterful speech.

“The Sanctuary will be getting desperate,” he said, drawing their attention back to him. “As long as we remain here, we should be safe. Another four days. That’s all we need. Let the Sanctuary agents tire themselves out searching for us. They won’t find us. They won’t find anyone who knows where we are. As long as we remain here, as long as we remain together, they will not defeat us, and we will save this world.”

He clasped his hands and closed his eyes, and they began applauding. They were applauding.

He turned, left the room. The White Cleaver trailed after him as per his new assignment – Personal Bodyguard to Vandameer Craven. Craven was sure that the Cleaver was deeply honoured by such a position, even if he didn’t show it.

Shadows collected ahead, and when they dissipated, Solomon Wreath was standing there with his arms folded. “You saw it, did you?”

Craven slowed as he neared. “I’m sorry?”

“Tenebrae. You saw Vile kill him?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. It was quick, though, and from that we must take comfort.”

Craven turned to one of the grimy windows that lined the corridor. “It’s all changed, isn’t it? There’s no going back – not now. I… I need someone I can trust by my side, Solomon. Are you that man?”

Wreath grunted. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”

Craven turned, smiled. “Nor would I, my friend. Between us, there has been nothing but animosity and distrust. Years, foolishly wasted on childish games – for what purpose? Pride? Vanity? I know not. But we are here. Now. Thrown together. You, the last Cleric of our Temple. And me, suddenly looked upon as prophet, as leader, as High Priest.”

Wreath unfolded his arms. “I’m sorry, what? Exactly who is looking at you that way?”

“Why, they are. Our fellow Necromancers. They look to me for answers I cannot give.”

“Because you’re not the High Priest.”

“But if I am not,” Craven said, as gently as he could, “then who is?”

Wreath frowned. “Craven, you’re a Cleric. We lost a High Priest, another will be assigned. It’s how these things work.”

“Would you wait for someone new to come in and take over? If we stand united, we need no one else.”

“If we stand united under you, you mean.”