Page 89 of Shadow and Smite

The pain was psychological. I didn’t bleed.

Tethers of power broke and strings snapped. The tendrils that had connected the diamond to vagueelsewheresturned to wisps.

Inarus screamed; he withered and wailed. “The diamond… It sustained me.”

He slipped, soul sinking downward. He followed the flow of death. He called up to me, “Zayne, remember: you’ll always be a necromancer. In the end, you’re the same as me.”

I didn’t want to pity him. He had killed my parents. His army captured merchants, branding them and killing them in the barn.

He had been my teacher. He had been corrupted. Manipulated. And I still didn’t understand why.

I reached for him, and my soul fingers brushed his. He calmed, and a crooked smile claimed his dying face. “Not now. You’re not ready.” He drifted, fading from sight while his final words lingered. “When it’s time for us to talk, I’ll find you.”

Then he was gone.

The Underworld seemed quiet. Expansive and primed with potential. I returned to myself, retreating to tasks that served the Living Realm.

Layer by layer, I had defeated my opposition. First the shield, and then the diamond. Now even Inarus had vanished.

Only the Shades remained. The crystal skull focused their necromantic bindings. Steeling myself, I clutched the focus between my palms.

I connected to the countless Shades until their awareness consumed my mind. I lost myself in the madness. Inarus’s commands lingered in them like old programming.

“Be still,” I commanded the army. Some of them obeyed. There were so many.

Through the chaos, I frantically searched for Ayla.

The Shades whispered, muttering rumors I couldn’t hush. I couldn’t quite make out what they said, but I heard the phrase, “He has the Brand.”

I couldn’t find her—not fast enough.

The Shades looked at me, all at once, unified in their previous orders. Their whispered mutters coalesced into words.

“You’re one of us,” they realized.

They reversed the flow of power. I became a necromancer at the mercy of his horde. Their power surged into me. My chest burst, and with a rush, my Brand consumed me.

“We will control you.”

My individuality lashed against their collective, and I dedicated myself to a fight for my soul.

Ayla

With a final slash, the troll turned to ash. I was too exhausted to feel victorious.

For minutes, the Shades had acted inconsistently, sometimes shifting to life and moving toward me. At other times, they were still.

I tried to clear the room, but they crept closer. Now they stumbled over the rubble, less coordinated than before. The horde now moved more mindlessly, but they still moved.

Amidst the inconsistencies, I couldn’t tell if Zayne was winning or losing. Something had shifted, like a cold breeze. It gave me goosebumps, made me uncomfortable—I didn’t know what it meant. I debated where to pivot next.

“Ayla?” Ninti asked.

I spun around. “Thank Teyr you’re okay.”

The Firewolf rolled to her stomach and lifted her head. My fears eased.

Beside her, Zayne’s body seemed broken. And was that…The Brand.

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