He thought he saw a reflection and hesitated.

——

Dalius saw the moment of confusion and screamed, for the living and dead to hear.

“Forwards! For Afiele and the Kingdom of Shade!”

He charged through the air. The undead giant swung at him and Dalius passed through the arm. He slashed downwards, his sword cutting through the giant’s flesh with ease. Then he flew higher, raking the blade across the monstrosity’s body. Going for the head.

The [Necromancer] cursed as the undead army struggled to advance, fighting itself.

“For Afiele and Calanfer! Charge!”

Princess Seraphel shouted. The living raced forwards and met the dead with a roar of fury, spending their grief in the first charge and fighting onwards. Undead men and women wrestled, leaping at each other, tearing with teeth or nails as living figures stabbed and hacked desperately.

Sidheag sang among the fighting, seeing the undead and Afiele’s people fighting two-to-one. Three-to-one, outnumbered by their ancestors held in thrall of the [Necromancer]. The [Duchess] made her stand amid the fields, fighting with a vengeance. Even the [Princess] advanced, protecting Culin with the Thronebearers.

Culin, held back, saw Cara and the undead she had brought fighting ahead of him. He whispered as he looked for his sister, lost among the enemy. He looked up at Ser Dalius, cutting the giant as he flew, invulnerable to the crushing blows, descending like a comet to slash down a Draug with a single blow.

Yet he was only one ghost and there were too many of the dead. Even so, Culin’s eyes were locked onto him.

“Help us. Please.”

His voice mixed with Dalius’ cry of fury and guilt. The ghost flew towards the [Necromancer], but a lance of light struck him out of the air. He flew upwards again, dodging another burst of harsh radiance.

Refusing to fall.

The Lord of Afiele and the ghost moved forwards against their foe. Outnumbered but desperate. Dalius was still shouting. Crying out for retribution. Justice.

“For Afiele! Fight for Afiele!”

Who said it? The boy? The [Knight]?

Both. They both screamed for vengeance. The living and dead demanding the same thing.

Vengeance. Vengeance and retribution for Afiele. Their voices were lost among the battlefield, one among thousands. But at last, something heard their cry…

And the Tomb of Afiele stirred.

——

The [Singer]’s voice was faltering—only her Skill kept the song going. Sidheag stood there, singing. The Draug were immune to her song. She was no [Necromancer]. Only the sheer numbers let her fight for control of the undead. And he was distracted.

Ser Dalius was screaming. The [Necromancer]’s spells burned through the air, striking the ghost. No death magic, but spells made of light and fire—spells to kill the ghost. Yet Dalius refused to die. The spells seared his essence, causing him pain, but he fought onwards, cutting across the dead, flying—