Chapter 139
last update2024-09-06 22:55:59

Caster walked briskly toward his destination, his long coat billowing slightly in the cool breeze. Beneath the coat, several spatial bags hung from his belt, hidden from view. As he looked around the city he had called home for so many years, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.

Looking at the familiar streets, he whispered to himself, “This place really has changed.” “Well, then again I have.”

This was the place that had been his training ground for Magesmithing – he had learned everything by
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    Silas ran. He ran faster than he had ever run in his entire life. His chest burned like a hot fire. His thin legs shook. His dirty boots splashed loudly in the cold, wet puddles of the dark tunnel.He did not look back. He was too terrified to look back.He had just seen the impossible. Deep down in the Great Hollow, miles beneath the capital city, the dead had woken up. The Ash Warden had taken the bones of ten thousand forgotten people and wrapped them in thick, dark gray ash. The dark god had turned the dead into an army. And now, that army was marching.Thud. Thud. Thud.Silas heard the footsteps echoing in the stone tunnel behind him. The sound was quiet, but it was perfectly steady. The dead did not get tired. They did not need to breathe. They did not need to stop and rest. They just kept marching, step by step, closing the distance."Light save me," Silas whimpered. He wiped dirty sweat from his eyes. "Please, Light, hide me."He reached a fork in the tunnel. He could go left

  • Chapter 505

    "Valen," Caster whispered. His raspy voice caught in his throat.Valen Cross was supposed to be dead.Ten years ago, Valen Cross was the smartest, most ruthless investigator the High Council had ever employed. He was the man who found out people's secrets. He was the man who made the Council's enemies disappear in the middle of the night.But Valen had asked too many questions. He had started looking into the deep leylines. He had found out about the dark waste being pushed into the earth. Archmage Vane had ordered him killed to keep the secret safe. The whole Tower had been told that Valen Cross died in a terrible magical accident in a lower laboratory."You look like you have seen a ghost, Caster," Valen said, stepping fully into the dim blue light of the glowing scrolls. He smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes."Vane told us you burned in an alchemy fire," Caster said softly. He kept his hands perfectly still by his sides. He had no magic to fight this man. A single silver

  • Chapter 504

    The ash-people were building something in the center. They were carrying heavy chunks of black stone. They passed the stones from hand to hand in total silence. They stacked the stones on top of each other.Silas squinted, trying to see what they were building.It was a throne.But it was not a chair for a human king. It was a massive, towering structure shaped like an open hand reaching up toward the ceiling. It was made of solid, dark rock and pure, compressed gray ash.The Warden was building a new cradle. It was building a seat of absolute power in the dark, far away from the starlight and the blue magic.Silas watched the perfect coordination of the dead. It was a beautiful, terrible sight.In the world above, humans fought with each other. They lied, they burned houses, they panicked, and they made mistakes. Human free will was messy and loud.But down here, there was no free will. There was only the cold, perfect order of consequence. Every single ash-person moved with exact p

  • Chapter 503

    In a matter of seconds, the gray ash had completely rebuilt the body of a man.The man looked exactly as he had on the day he died. He had a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and a tall frame. But his skin was not pink or brown. His skin was made of solid, compressed gray ash. He looked like a living, moving statue.The ash-man slowly opened his eyes.His eyes were not empty. They did not glow with bright red anger. They burned with a tiny, calm, pale gray fire.The man did not scream. He simply reached down to the ground. His ash-covered fingers grabbed the handle of a rusted iron sword. He picked the sword up.He stood perfectly straight. He raised his chin. He held the sword by his side.He stood at attention, just like a loyal soldier waiting for his commander to give an order.He was not a mindless monster. He was an echo.The Ash Warden had fed on the memories of the world for a thousand years. The dark god remembered exactly who this soldier was. It remembered his loyalty. It rememb

  • Chapter 502

    The capital city was burning above. The heavy boots of the Twin Moons soldiers hit the broken white stone streets. The fires cracked and popped. The loud voices of angry men echoed in the air. General Corin was hunting for Caster Spellbound, tearing the city apart to find one old man.But true power does not always shout. True danger does not always march in the bright light of the sun.Far beneath the ruined streets, deep below the crushed white marble of the Sage Tower, there was a place where the sun never reached.This was the Under-City. It was a massive maze of forgotten tunnels, ancient sewers, and deep burial caves. Hundreds of years ago, before the High Council became rich and built their floating gardens, they buried their dead down here. When terrible wars and sickness swept through the land, they dug massive holes and threw thousands of bodies into the dark. Then, they sealed the heavy iron doors and forgot about them.The Under-City was supposed to be completely dead.

  • Chapter 501

    "Archmage Vane thinks his shields are perfect," Caster whispered to himself in the shadows. "But nothing is perfect. Every wall has a crack."Hundreds of years ago, Caster had actually helped invent the core theories that the Twin Moons used to build these very wards. He knew the math. He knew the geometry of the spells.When you build a round, sweeping magical shield and place it over a square, sharp building, the shapes do not match perfectly. A circle cannot perfectly cover a square.The places where the magic did not reach were called "dead zones." They were tiny, invisible blind spots in the armor. Incomplete wards left tiny gaps in the shadows.Caster watched the sweeping, invisible lights. He did not see them with his eyes; he felt them with the tiny, dying red embers at the bottom of his soul. He watched the rhythm. He counted the seconds in his head.One. Two. Three. Four. Turn.The invisible light swept past a sharp iron spike on the corner of the wall. For exactly three sec

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