The city of Velbraith never slept.
Built on bones, run by coin, and guarded by a corrupt mage guild called the Azure Chain, it had long forgotten its dead. That was a mistake.
Because the dead remembered everything.
We stood on a cliff overlooking the city walls.
Erathion—The Forgotten King—beside me, cloak of grave-silk whipping in the wind. His presence made the air colder, heavier. Not even the shadows dared cling to him. He stared down at the glowing spires and winding alleys like a man gazing at a stolen throne.
"This city… belonged to one of my blood once," he said. "Until they wiped us out and buried the truth under silver lies."
I said nothing. I knew what was coming.
"It will be ours again," he whispered.
I didn't argue.
Because I wanted it too.
We began with the underlayers.
Velbraith's old city had been built atop a mass grave—forgotten catacombs from an ancient war. I sent Revenants into the depths. Dozens of them. Not to destroy… but to recruit.
And the dead came willingly.
Knights who had died nameless, thieves still holding keys in their withered hands, mages whose bodies had melted from spellfire. All waiting. All bitter. All mine.
Erathion didn't just raise the dead.
He inspired them.
Where I summoned obedient servants, he awakened generals.
Within three days, we had an army under the city.
But war is never clean.
The Azure Chain noticed the disturbances.
Their leader, Archmage Deren Talverin, issued a decree:
"All who speak of necromancy shall be hanged by dawn."
Too late.
They should've killed me before I had a king behind me.
On the fifth night, I walked through the front gates.
Alone.
No disguise. No cloak. Just my spiral mark burning on my hand like a torch.
The guards laughed.
Until their shadows turned on them.
Erathion appeared beside me, stepping from the darkness, sword dragging sparks across the stone.
"Velbraith," he boomed, voice amplified by grave-magic. "Your sins are remembered. Your debt is due."
Panic.
Screams.
But we didn't slaughter. Not yet.
I took control of the Bell Tower—the highest point in the city—and sent out a soul-call, binding every corpse within the walls to my pulse. The city's own graveyards opened like mouths.
By dawn, every noble with a crypt had risen twice:
Once in life…
Once under my control.
But then, they sent her.
A streak of blue fire cracked the sky.
She descended like a comet, blades of silverlight spinning around her.
Isolde Vaerwyn.
Azure Chain's "Deathless Blade."
The youngest Evermage in history, rumored to have killed a god with a kiss and a dagger.
She landed on the Bell Tower, her sword pointed at my chest.
"Cassian Vale," she said coldly. "You've broken every magical law this city upholds. You'll come with me now, or you'll come in pieces."
I raised a brow.
"Do you always flirt like this?"
She didn't smile.
Erathion stepped forward.
"This is not your concern, girl."
Her eyes widened.
"You… shouldn't exist."
"And yet," Erathion said, stepping into a dueling stance, "here I am."
What followed was not a fight. It was a war in miniature.
Isolde danced with flame and lightning. She moved like prophecy, every strike glowing with ancient runes. She cut through five Revenants before I could blink.
But Erathion… didn't dodge.
He absorbed her attacks. Boneplate cracked but held. His swings were slower—but each time he struck, the ground shook.
I tried to stay out of it. I wasn't ready to face her directly.
Not yet.
But then she turned to me mid-duel—and flung a chain of soulfire into my chest.
Pain like I had never known exploded through my ribcage. I hit the ground gasping.
And that's when she made her mistake.
She stepped over me, blade raised to finish the job.
And I whispered the words I'd been saving for a moment just like this:
"Rise, Mirror-Twin."
The tombstone in my mind cracked open.
From my own blood, a second Cassian stood. Not a Revenant, not a clone. Something worse.
A mirrored soul, forged from shadow and regret. Trained to protect me when I couldn't.
It struck Isolde with a scream of metal and soulglass.
She staggered.
Erathion was on her in a flash.
Together, we overwhelmed her. Not killing—no. I needed her alive.
Because she knew the Council.
And I needed information.
Hours later, she sat bound in my chamber.
Bloodied, furious, but silent.
"Why didn't they come themselves?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
Erathion raised a finger. Her chains tightened.
"Why is the Council afraid?"
This time, she looked at me.
"Because you're not the only one who's returned," she whispered. "Something else came back… with you."
"What?"
She shook her head slowly.
"They called it The Hollow Sovereign. And it's looking for you."