Lantal was trying to climb the zombie’s moving legs, but even if the giant was moving slower—he was no great hero. He couldn’t climb higher. They were headed straight for the carriage—for his people. He saw the [Necromancer] aiming high above, directing his giant.

And then Lantal saw something amid the darkness, the sickly green glow of the Necromancer’s staff, illuminating his white hair. He heard a sound, amid the screaming and chaos.

A song.

And then—there was a flash of orange light. Fire.

It danced around the [Necromancer]. At first, he didn’t notice. Then a flare of flame struck his face. He cried out, and the giant stumbled.

More fire burned into existence. It flickered around the [Necromancer]. Targeting him. Sparks, growing larger. The man flailed around, burned by the temporary burst of heat and light. Blinded in the darkness.

Lantal stared. He heard her voice and realized what it was.

[Song of Sparks]. His head turned with the [Necromancer]’s. And there she stood.

Cara didn’t try to hide. There was no point. She sang, amid the sounds tearing the night apart. Her voice was as loud as could be. And she heard none of it.

It was the first song she had sung in this world. Cara panted for each word.

She gazed up at the monstrosity one man had brought to life. And he saw her. The [Necromancer] had conjured a glowing barrier which the flames burned themselves out against. But the light still dazzled him.

He didn’t see the [Lord] slipping away. He could barely see the crowd fighting out of the gates ahead of Princess Seraphel’s carriage, ignoring the Thronebearer’s demands for them to move.

The [Necromancer] made his creation bend. Cara looked at the rotting face, the man’s gaze. Pitiless.

More of a monster than any of the undead.

Her voice faltered. Clumsily, Cara reached for the hatchet she’d been given. She yanked it out and swung it once or twice. The [Necromancer] ignored Cara’s weapon and watched her. He…seemed familiar.

Then she recognized him. Not the white hair. Or the black eyes and white pupils, or robes. Just…

His face. That look. A familiar look, staring out of a stranger’s eyes. He knew her too.

“You. You sang yesterday. I recognized your voice.”

The [Singer] just looked at the [Necromancer]. Another lost soul. Someone she understood. A kindred spirit…her bloodless lips moved.

“Yes. I did.”

Cara felt her heart beating in her chest. If he came closer she could leap and strike him—but he was dozens of feet distant. She held the hatchet in her hand. Just looked at him. At the undead flooding the city. The horrific monster he rode.

Dead flesh. Putrid, rotting, sightless holes for eyes. Rot, assembled into a giant that towered over all.

This is what he had made. This man.