My chest heaved violently, and I gasped as a sharp pain, searing pain tore through my chest, radiating outward like a shockwave. My breath caught in my throat, and my vision blurred momentarily. It was as if my heart had been pierced by an arrow. An unseen blow that left me disoriented.

  My knees buckled under the overwhelming weight of the sudden agony. I collapsed to the cold, damp stone floor of the catacombs. Hand trembling, I clutched at my chest, trying to steady myself, but the pain only intensified. Each shallow breath I took felt like fire clawing through my lungs, my skin slickening as cold sweat began to stick my robes to my body.

  “What is this?” my voice was barely more than a rasp as my head spun. I couldn’t quite make sense of the pain. There were no visible wounds, no blood, but the sensation was unmistakably real.

  My trembling hands made their way to the medallion that hung around my neck. My fingers barely managed to grasp it as my vision continued to blur. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to steady my breathing, but it only made me more conscious of how erratic my heart had become. It pounded violently against my ribcage, each beat an unbearable thud of torment.

  I felt disconnected from my surroundings, barely registering the hard stone beneath my fingers as I reached out for support. The familiar, eerie silence was suddenly suffocating. No whispers of the dead. No hum of dark magic. Just the deafening sound of my own labored breaths and the harsh thumping of my chest.

  My mind raced, trying to comprehend what could cause this. Was it a spell? Was someone out there, aiming to strike me down? I opened my mouth to call out for help, but no sound escaped. My voice had abandoned me, leaving me in wordless agony.

  Was this the work of Lord Necros?

  I clutched my chest, gasping, when suddenly a familiar voice echoed through the air, cutting through the air like a knife. I blink and looked up, the tremors of my hand still pressed against my heart, as the ghostly apparition of Viknesh materialized before me. His phantom, his presence, seemed to glow with an ethereal light, casting a majestic glow in the dim catacombs.

  “Calm your heart, child,” he spoke, his tone soothing and authoritative, though laced with an unshakable finality.

  My breath hitched as my gaze met his, the figure of my mentor standing before me, yet his ethereal form-unreal. This can’t be. “Viknesh?” I inquired, a hint of unsteadiness lingered in my voice. “What… what has happened?” My voice trembled, the pain still radiating through my chest, accompanied by dread.

  His expression was calm, though the weight of his words came heavy. “The Dread Necromancers of Sardonia are being hunted. I… was slain in battle, by none other than Z’albor himself.”

  “The Archlich?” I gasped, eyes filled with panic.

  “Yes. He has caught on to our operation and seeks to put an end to it.”

  My heart dropped. “No… this can’t be. You-”

  “This was as planned, Syeda,” Viknesh interrupted, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. “I knew my time was coming. That’s why I prepared you.”

  My eyes filled with tears, my hands still trembling as I knelt before him, my world crumbling. “But I’m not ready! I can’t…”

  “You ARE ready,” Viknesh said, his voice firm but kind. His phantom leaned closer, his ethereal hand gently reaching out as if to calm me. “I’ve seen it in you. I’ve seen your strength.”

  I shook my head, hot tears streaming down my cheeks as my heart pounded with grief. “I…I don’t know if I am powerful enough,” I stammered, my voice breaking.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Viknesh’s ghostly voice softened. “That’s why I left you with all the strength of the Dread Necromancers of Sardonia. You’ll find my grimoire in my quarters, hidden beneath the altar. You’ll find the spell you need for ascension. Use it to become a Corpselord. You’ll inherit my power, and the power of the other elders. Use it to lead our family to glory.”

  My tears flowed freely, my breath catching in my throat as I looked at him. “I’ll miss you… so much,” I whispered, my voice heavy with sorrow.

  Viknesh smiled softly, a glint of pride in his otherworldly eyes. “I am eternal, as are you. As all followers of Necros are,” his voice filled with conviction. “Death is but a new beginning.”

  His form began to flicker, the light around him dimming as he started to fade. His phantom leaned in and kissed my forehead, just as he had in life. “You will always be my daughter, and I am proud of you.”

  With that, the last of his essence flowed from his fading spirit into me. I felt a surge of power. It was as if the weight of centuries passed through my soul, the strength of multiple Dread Necromancers residing within me.

  I knelt there, my body trembling as the power flowed through my veins, an eerie black glow emanated from them. My tears fell to the stone floor, the echo reverberating against the silent walls of the catacombs. The air thick with loss and newfound power. I clutched my chest, feeling Viknesh’s presence there, eternal as he had promised.

  I sat in the dim candlelight of the sanctuary, my back against the cool stone wall, the weight of the mission heavy on my heart. It ached, and my mind spun from the enormity of the responsibility that had just been thrust upon me. The catacombs were silent, save from the occasional drip of water from the ceiling and the low flicker of flames from the sconces. Viknesh was gone, yet, his presence, his guidance, lingered still.

  I wiped my tear-streaked face and stood, my legs still unsteady. The sanctuary before me was where Viknesh had spent countless hours meditating, crafting spells, and overseeing the rituals of our order. Now, it was my turn. I could still feel him lingering in the air, as though his essence had left behind an imprint, reminding me of his words.

  You are ready, Syeda.

  I made my way to his quarters and approached the altar, its surface worn from centuries of rituals and incantations. Beneath it, as Viknesh had instructed, I found his grimoire—the key to my ascension. With trembling hands, I knelt and moved the stone slab aside, revealing a small hollow space below. Nestled within it was a dark tome, its leather-bound cover embossed with ancient symbols, glowing faintly in the darkness.

  My fingers hesitated for a moment before grasping the book. The power radiating from it was undeniable. Thick, palpable energy pulsed beneath my fingertips, urging me to open it. With a deep breath, I pulled the grimoire out and placed it on the altar, the heavy thud echoing through the chamber.

  As I flipped open the pages, my eyes scanned the intricate writings, the ancient glyphs Viknesh had taught me over the years. But as I reached the middle of the tome, a passage stood out—a ritual, one that could elevate me to our most respected ranks, a being feared by all the ignorant of the world: a Corpse Lord. The words were etched deep into the pages, their meaning clear and ominous.

  It is time.

  I traced the lines with my fingertips, lipping the words silently as I read. This was no simple feat, no mere spell. It required sacrifice, strength, and an unyielding will. Viknesh believed in me, and now I had no choice but to believe in myself.

  "I can do this," I whispered, clutching the book tighter. My breath hitched, the enormity of what was about to happen crashing down on me.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, my hands still gripping the grimoire. The time had come, whether I felt ready or not. "We proceed with the ritual. Viknesh has entrusted me with this... and I will not fail."

  I nodded again, this time with more certainty. "I will prepare the chamber," my voice steady, though a storm brewed within me.

  I took a deep breath, my gaze falling to the pages of the grimoire. The ritual was dangerous—one misstep, one moment of hesitation, and it could cost me everything. But I had no choice. Viknesh had entrusted me with this task. I couldn't fail him now.

  I closed the book and clutched it to my chest, steeling myself. I could feel the pull of the power calling to me, the lure of becoming something more, something greater than I had ever imagined. But along with it came the weight of responsibility, of legacy, and of the lives I would now lead.

  As I made my way through the corridors of the catacombs, my footsteps echoed against the rigid stone walls, each step bringing me closer to my destiny. The faint sound of chanting could be heard in the distance, the cult already preparing for the ritual. My breath came in short bursts as I felt my connection to Viknesh embolden with each passing second. His essence swirled within me, a reminder that he was still with me, even in death.