Page 3 of Necromance
I hesitated, then took a silver dagger from its place by the bedside. Its edge was sharp, the hilt wrapped inblackened leather, a gift from my grandmother, enchanted with our ancient magic.
Clothing was the easiest part. Most of my dresses looked exactly the same. Dark fabric, not quite stylish and certainly not what a lady of high society would wear, but they were comfortable. I stuffed a few nightgowns and underthings in as well, then turned back for the sitting room.
I reached for the deck of cards resting on my writing desk. The edges were soft with wear, the design faded with age. I ran my fingers over them, feeling the weight of their history, the lives they had touched.
I turned over the top card.
The tower.
Lightning, striking stone. Ruin. Upheaval.
I huffed a laugh and tucked the deck into my bag. “How fitting,” I muttered.
Despite the sense of unease curling in my gut, I couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through me. A castle with a dark past, countless ghosts, trapped within its walls. There was power in old places. Secrets buried beneath dust, and stone.
And I would unearth them.
CHAPTER TWO
The carriage rattled over the uneven road, jolting me with every rut and stone hidden beneath the thickening fog. The driver said little, his eyes fixed ahead, shoulders hunched, as if to ward off some unseen presence. I didn’t mind the silence. It allowed me to listen to the hushed sound of the wind curling through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against damp earth.
And beneath it all, something else.
A hum.
Low and insidious, barely more than a breath against my bones. I tightened my grip on my satchel, my fingers brushing the cool metal of the dagger tucked inside.
Then the trees parted and there it was.
Ravenspire.
The castle loomed before me, a black silhouette against the murky sky. Its towers clawed upward, aged asbroken teeth, disappearing into the mist that curled thick around its walls. Ivy clung to the stone like skeletal fingers, twisted and gnarled, as if the very earth sought to reclaim what had been abandoned.
The windows yawned like empty sockets, dark and hollow, their glass long shattered or clouded with age. A single lantern flickered near the front entrance, its feeble glow swallowed by the immense shadow of the castle itself. The iron gates stood slightly ajar, groaning softly as the wind stirred them.
The sensation against my ribs deepened. Not merely unease. No, something here watched… waited.
The horses slowed, the driver shifting uneasily in his seat. “This is as far as I go, madam,” he muttered. He didn’t look at me, his hands already gripped the reins tighter, ready to turn back the moment I stepped out.
I smirked. “Not staying for tea then?”
The man paled. I smiled.
I took my time gathering my things, letting the moment stretch, and feeling the weight of the castle settle over me. It wanted me to leave. That much was clear in the howl of the wind through the stone, the way the ground itself seemed reluctant to let me set foot upon it. Which only made me more determined to stay.
I stepped down from the carriage, the damp earth sinking slightlybeneath my boots. The scent of rain, moss, and something older, something decayed, rose up to meet me.
A shiver ran down my spine, though not from the cold. Ravenspire pulsed with something ancient. Something hungry.
I exhaled, forcing my shoulders to relax, and turned to face the castle head-on.
”Well,’” I murmured, “let's see what secrets you’ve been keeping.”
I closed my eyes and let the castle breathe around me. It had a pulse, though not like a living thing, no steady rhythm of life coursing through its walls, no warmth lingering in its stones. Instead, it was cold, ancient, layered with the weight of time and memory. I had stood before many haunted places in my time, crumbling manors where whispers curled through the halls, cellars where shadows refused to move, chapels where the dead still knelt in prayer… but Ravenspire was different.
It didn’t merely hold the past. It was the past. A thing of curses and sorrow, wrapped in ivy and decay.
I extended my senses further, reaching for the energy woven into the very foundation. My breath slowed, my skin prickling as I waited for something, anything, to push back.
