She weaved through the battlefield, slashing a zombie’s head from its neck, carrying the sword down, left, to cut through an arm and torso, up through a Ghoul’s face—a glittering line that never stopped felling her foes. The old pikeman charged after her, running through three undead—and more were coming still.

More ghosts were rising across the battlefield. A huge figure swung an axe and cleared everything around him, cutting through torsos with ease. A scaled figure with a staff raised it and burned a Crypt Lord with ghostly fire. An ancient standard rose, as a young woman, practically a girl, held it aloft, a shortsword in her other hand. They were screaming the same thing.

“For the Fields of Afiele!”

Sidheag stared. The ghosts all cried out the same words, fighting together, assailing the dead.

But they were bewildered. The woman in armor, the first to rise, was shouting. Dozens of ghosts were on the field, yet she seemed bewildered, as if this were not enough.

“I said, to me! The Gravewarden calls for you to honor your vows! Where—where are you all?”

Her voice faltered. She looked about, and Sidheag saw her confusion. Uncertainty. Over two hundred ghosts had risen from the ground. But the woman looked shocked.

“Where are Afiele’s legions? First Spear, answer me! Where are your warriors?”

She demanded of the spearman. He snarled.

“They are gone! They do not rise!”

“Have they been laid to their final rest? What has happened while we slept? Where—you.”

The woman flew through the air. She landed in front of Ser Dalimont. Her sword was at the [Knight]’s throat in a moment.

“Thronebearer of Calanfer! Has your wretched get come to destroy Noelictus once more?”

Dalimont froze. His sword had come up, but the other blade was touching the flesh of his throat. He made no move as he looked at the woman. His lips moved, and a thin line of red trickled from his cut skin as he breathed.

“What—who are you?”

For answer, the ghost of a woman pirouetted and slashed through a charging skeleton. She flicked her sword back, so fast Dalimont didn’t have time to move. The tip of her sword touched his golden armor.

The woman glared as she spoke, still looking about.

“I am Arteis Ladel of Afiele. [Paladin] of Noelictus! The Lord of Afiele calls us to battle once more! But where is the Gravewarden? Where is our army of thousands? What has happened?”

Sidheag heard and choked, but before she could say anything, Arteis swung around. Her desperate eyes had found something.

Ser Dalius. Arteis’ eyes widened. She pointed her sword up.

“There! The new Gravewarden!”