Word travels fast in the magical underworld—especially when someone raises a battalion of the dead in the ruins of a forgotten temple.
By the time I stepped foot into Grimhaven, a lawless district where rogue sorcerers and bounty hunters traded spells like silver, my name was already on their lips.
They whispered it like a storm warning.
Aric. The Deathmarked. The Heir.
I walked through the slums cloaked in silence, my raven circling above. Eyes followed me. Wards flared. One man even reached for his blade, only to freeze as his own shadow turned on him—lifting his dagger and holding it to his throat before I'd spoken a word.
"I didn't come here to kill you," I said, voice calm. "But I will if I'm bored."
He dropped the dagger. Smart.
I reached the central plaza, where a crude dueling ring had been carved into the stone. At its center stood a gang of rogue sorcerers—seven in total. Each draped in enchanted armor, each smirking like they'd already won.
Their leader, a broad-shouldered firemage with molten eyes, stepped forward and cracked his neck.
"So," he said, "you're the corpse-walker everyone's trembling over."
"Call me Aric."
He grinned. "Call me uninterested."
The crowd jeered. The ring buzzed with anticipation.
I gave him one last chance. "Walk away."
He raised his arms and conjured twin pillars of flame that surged toward me like serpents. Fast. Violent.
But I didn't move.
Instead, I whispered: "Ash to bone."
The flames died mid-air. Snuffed like candles.
His eyes widened as the ground cracked beneath him—and from the earth, skeletal arms shot up, grabbing his legs, dragging him down.
I raised a single finger.
One by one, his allies turned to fight—and one by one, I dismantled them.
I didn't use complex spells. I didn't need to. They threw fire, ice, stone. I replied with silence, and silence answered louder.
One sorceress tried to teleport behind me—my shadow caught her mid-cast and snapped her wand in half.
Another conjured a golem—I turned it against him with a look.
When the dust cleared, they were all on their knees, gasping, trembling.
And the crowd? Silent. Utterly still.
I walked past the firemage, now pale and shaking. "Next time someone warns you, listen."
I left them broken—but breathing.
They'd spread the message better that way.
By nightfall, Grimhaven didn't belong to outlaws or sorcerers anymore.
It belonged to me.
And that was only the beginning.
---