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Chapter seventeen

The Vault Beneath the Earth

Zayne

Stagnant air filled my lungs, and even the necromantic tang of rot was almost undetectable as life slowed to a crawl.

I stood on a large landing just beneath the gate, the entrance of a cave carved out under the beach. Ancient fae lights reflected on the black slate floor as motes of dust spurred to life in light of my abrupt arrival. The crash of the ocean against the beach thumped like a distant heartbeat.

My senses fired into high alert, the Underworld overlaying onto the Living Realm as I examined the vault. Rough hewn walls surrounded me in every direction except for the one opposite me.

Nothing undead haunted this level, but still cautious, I slid along the edges of reality, shadow-stepping to the other side and looking down. An expansive spiral of steps filled a deep hollow in the earth, beckoning me to descend.

From my earlier exploration, I knew a vast vault lay below, the tomb of a shade army I failed to destroy. And beyond them, the black diamond shard.

I continued down the stairwell, not by walking, but by gliding from one shadow to the next, only jumping the distance I could confirm by line of sight.

Halfway down, I approached my first obstacle.

The Underworld had warned me of the undead aberration. Threads of magic bound them to both the dead and the living, as if they were a denizen of both.

I squinted at them from the distance, keeping a flight of stairs between us. Despite the low lights, there was no denying the gleaming white of bones that blocked the stairway.

A skeleton.

I paused, shocked they existed at all.

My texts claimed that no skeletons remained, the art of their creation lost with Pyrian’s original texts. Clearly, even the authors of my books kept their secrets, some mysteries reserved for initiates who ventured beyond the page.

While shades were the undead horde perfected for a necromancer’s obedient army, skeletons were independent beings. They carried the memories of their life—a form of immortality that would last until their bones shattered.

Despite my aloof approach, the skeleton shifted. Bones creaked as they lifted an arm to their chin, as if they were thinking. I braced.

“We have not met,” the skeleton finally said, his deep voice creaking with disuse. When I didn’t answer, he shifted each limb in turn, as if stretching after being immobile for a very long time. “Speak up. Your name, your lineage?”

I debated shadow-stepping around the skeleton, but decided any information—intentionally or unintentionally shared—would be invaluable.

“I was Inarus’s student,” I half-lied. Inarus might have never taught me necromancy, but he had taught me.

The skeleton took a step closer to me. “You are the one who did not know what he was? The Shadow Prince, Zayne. Am I correct?”

I decided not to answer that. “You knew Inarus?”

“All necromancers find themselves here. Eventually.”

He took another step. Taller than seemed natural, he curled his back to stare down at me. The sound of a deep inhale reverberated against the stone walls as threads of his magic probed me. Annoyed, I waved them away.

“I smell the death of Inarus on you,” he said.

I reached for the shadows.

“Do not fear it. You are not the first of your kind to kill their teacher. It is the way of our world.”

I braced to shadow-step. Speaking with the skeleton no longer seemed worth the risk.

He tilted his skull with a creak. “Inarus said you would visit. That you would need the black diamond shard.”

I stilled.

“He also left a present for you. I will show you.” The skeleton turned around and began walking down the stairs, his boney feet clattering upon the stone steps.

I didn’t budge.

His skull swiveled fully around while his feet continued the descent. “Call me Guardian. Please follow.”

The skeleton carried no weapon, but however limited his link to life, I kept my senses sharp, looking for traps as I took my first step down the stairs.

“You are a skeleton, right?” I asked.

“I am. Inarus never spoke of me?”

“We, ah—it’s complicated. I read that all the skeletons were gone.”

The guardian laughed, a chortle that echoed ominously in the dark stairway. “Those who remain prefer to be left alone.”

“Were you a necromancer, before?” I asked.

“Long ago.”

“Before Pyrian?”

He was quiet for several long seconds, the click of his feet his only answer for quite some time. “Yes. Before Pyrian.”

He led me further into the vault, the stairwell silent except for the clatter of his feet. Deeper, we journeyed into the earth, approaching the shade army, its enormity now too great to ignore. The black diamond shards in my cloak glowed brighter as we approached the one hoarded here.

When we reached the final steps, Guardian stepped aside, arm raised in presentation of the vast chamber beyond. “Your present.”

An undead army sprawled before me.

Shades. Thousands of them. Fae, humans, gnomes, trolls, and more. They lay upon the stone floors beneath a tall arched ceiling, dimly lit in the fae lights.

I stepped closer, soothing my urge to burn the whole place down.

Their bodies were arranged in a military formation, the Gray Generals laid to rest at the front of their troops. Not a single shade stirred, but their silent presence flooded my mind.

“Inarus said you would value his gift.”

My fingers curled at the thought. I had no need for a shade army—I wasn’t him.

“Perhaps today is not the day for appreciation. I will show you to the shard.” Walking nonchalantly between the dead, Guardian pointed to the far side of the chamber. “It is in the study.”

There, so distant it was barely perceivable, was a single black door built into the far wall, the purple light confirming the shard concealed within.

Shoulders tightening, as if I could make myself smaller, I followed Guardian through the ranks of undead.

Now that I knew of this army, I was determined to destroy it. Today, I didn’t have the time or the means, and I wasn’t precisely sure how it was best done. But as I was forced to walk between them, step after step through the trenches of lives Inarus had stolen, I vowed it would be done.

And even if I lacked the resources to immediately turn them to ash, I could still honor the dead. Walking through their ranks, I refused look away, taking in the shades, their bodies in varied stages of decay with frayed clothes that clung to their bodies like vestiges of the life they led before.

We had reached the halfway point when something snagged my eye. Little white flowers on a field of green—

Jasmine.

This had to be Vanessa’s former lover. I kneeled beside the human-turned-shade, reaching out for the cloth and allowing its tassels to run through my fingers. The scarf was exactly as Vanessa had described.

Clutching the scarf, I entered the Underworld, searching for what remained of Jasmine’s soul. All I found was her shade, an obedient servant waiting a necromancer’s command.

Bone creaked. “A friend?” Guardian asked.

“Friend of a friend,” I answered.

“If she is important, she can become a skeleton.”

I shook my head. “No one knows how to make skeletons anymore.”

“So they say,” Guardian replied, walking on, his bones rattling.

I frowned. Even if the art of making skeletons wasn’t truly gone, I didn’t want to know. Turning back to Jasmine, I carefully unwrapped the scarf from her body. Tucking it in a pocket of my cloak, I turned away.

Guardian led me to the door at the far side of the hall, holding it open so I could step inside. Eyes darting, wary as ever, I entered the ancient study.

Similar to Inarus’s rooms at the stronghold, the walls were lined with books and instruments. An ornate meditation cushion laid at the room’s center, the cushion permanently indented where knees must have rested for hours.

And there, on a pedestal before the cushion and sealed within a crystal orb, was the black diamond shard. It floated in the orb’s center, glimmering within its casing, its dark sharp edges catching the light as if in greeting.

Guardian positioned himself beside it, bringing his body to eerie stillness.

Cautiously, I inventoried the remainder of the space, noting the small bedroom, bath, and kitchenette, each added as if an afterthought. No traps, no apparent danger. I slowed only to peruse the books, all of them far more worn than any text in my possession.

There would be far more to accomplish here than simply releasing the shades. Countless mysteries of my craft could be uncovered here. When we were done with Mer, I needed to return.

I returned to the enclosed shard. “How do I retrieve it?” I asked Guardian.

He motioned toward the meditation cushion. “The answer will not be found in life.”

Swallowing, I followed his lead, settling where countless of my predecessors had rested before. Here, I entered death with ease, the veil thinned by centuries of its parting.

Threads of power locked the shard within the crystal orb. Reaching out, I examined them.

“Hello Zayne,” the spirit of Inarus said at my side.