And Risel was flung from the carriage. Sasi had been holding on and vanished. The [Lady] and her children vanished out of the carriage.

“Stop—stop the—”

Seraphel scrambled upright. She heard shouting, screams.

“Move! After the Duchess!”

Ser Dalimont was bellowing. The carriage began moving. Seraphel shouted, but they were trying to close the door, moving the panicked horses forwards.

“No! Dalimont! Stop the carriage! Stop it! We’ve lost—”

She saw the Thronebearer [Knight] galloping next to the carriage, now clear of the crowds of undead.

Seraphel screamed at him. She saw Dalimont’s face change. He looked backwards. Then turned to her.

In that moment of time, Seraphel saw the Thronebearer [Knight] close his eyes. He looked back, through the sea of undead, towards the [Necromancer]. Then at her. Dalimont reached out—and shut the door.

The carriage raced onwards. Seraphel heard the [Knights] galloping forwards, catching Afiele’s people and the Duchess. Protecting their [Princess].

Leaving Risel and the children and Lord Lantal of House Afiele behind.

——

“Duchess Grishen is a secondary target. Pursue her. I need their bodies.”

The [Necromancer]’s name didn’t matter anymore. He had a name. Once, he had known people who would use it. Even later, he had clung to it. Now?

His hair was white. His eyes dark, with white pupils. He was the image of the very hero he admired.

Az’kerash. That was whom the man had dyed his hair in imitation of.

Yet today…he felt it. He understood. The man who stared back at him…no. The [Necromancer] had a smile as empty as his stomach.

A monster’s smile.

So this was what it was like to empty cities. To raze nations. What a terrible feeling. How…how furious had Az’kerash been? He had every reason to his fury.

What a terrible hatred. The man who copied that ambition felt the same churning in his soul. Darkest deeds. Already black. And now…he looked up.

His name was gone. If they cried it, if they called him a legend greater than the Necromancer of Terandria, Az’kerash, the Archmage of Death in time…it would still be naught more than someone else’s name. Names were for people who remembered their humanity.

He was what always plagued the living. Vengeance. Death.

A [Necromancer of Slaughter].

He watched the exodus of Afiele’s folk. They were moving fast, with the desperation of the living. He ordered his Zombie Giant after them. It might catch them, ceaseless as it was. But his first, primary targets, all four of them, were here.

It would have been easy to order the giant to smash the place to rubble, unless the stones were enchanted, which he very much doubted. But the [Necromancer] needed proof. Ailendamus did not pay for ‘nearly certain’.

“Surround the keep. Kill everyone.”