Chapter 1: The First Crack
The night of the blood moon came without warning.
The village of Blackthorn lay silent beneath the crimson sky. The moon glowed unnaturally bright, staining the fields with a sickly scarlet light. Aiden Crowe, a blacksmith's apprentice, stood outside the forge wiping sweat from his brow. He had worked late, repairing ploughs and tools, never imagining that the world around him was about to fall apart.
The first sound came like thunder beneath his feet — a low rumble, followed by the splitting of earth. Aiden staggered back as the ground in the graveyard beyond the hills cracked open. A chilling scream carried through the night. Then he saw it: a pale, rotting hand thrust upward through the dirt.
One corpse rose, then another. Hollow eyes glowing faintly red. A stench of death drifted on the cold wind.
"Aiden!" His younger sister, Elara, came running, her brown hair whipping around her face. She froze as she saw the dead dragging themselves from the earth. Her scream caught in her throat as a black mark began spreading across her arm, burning into her skin like fire.
Aiden looked down at his own forearm — the same jagged black mark glowed there, pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He had been born with it, never knowing its meaning. Now it blazed as the dead clawed closer.
A voice whispered from the darkness of the trees. Low. Cold."The Rise has begun. And you, boy… are the key."
Chapter 2: The Mark of the Dead
The figure stepped forward — a man cloaked in tattered robes, his eyes burning like coals. He carried a staff carved from bone.
"Stay back!" Aiden shouted, holding Elara close.
The man tilted his head. "Do you even know what you are?"
"I'm no one." Aiden's voice shook, though he stood firm.
The man laughed bitterly. "No one? You carry the seal of the Deathlord. Your bloodline is cursed, boy. The mark you bear is not a blessing, but a chain. Through you, the master of the dead will rise again."
The earth shook once more as skeletal warriors dragged themselves free from the soil. Aiden felt something tug inside him — a pull, like invisible strings connecting him to the creatures. When they turned their glowing eyes toward him, he raised his hand instinctively. To his horror, the skeletons froze. At his command.
"What… what did I just do?"
The cloaked man's eyes narrowed. "You wield the power of your ancestor. Resist it, and you will die. Embrace it, and you will become him."
Elara clutched Aiden's arm. "Don't listen to him! We have to run!"
But Aiden knew the truth — he could not run from what lived inside him.
Chapter 3: Army of Shadows
The next days blurred together. The dead spread across the countryside, devouring villages and farmlands. Smoke rose in the distance. Survivors fled in terror.
Aiden and Elara traveled under the guidance of the stranger, who revealed his name — Kael, a necromancer who had once served the Deathlord centuries ago.
"I betrayed him when I realized what he intended," Kael explained by the campfire. "But the seal was never permanent. It was meant to fail. You are its vessel, boy. You are the door through which he will return."
"I don't want his power!" Aiden snapped. "I just want to protect my sister."
Kael's expression hardened. "Then learn to control it before it consumes you. The mark hungers. Each time you resist, it grows stronger. Each time you command, it feeds."
That night, when a pack of ghouls attacked their camp, Aiden raised his hand. The mark blazed. Shadows swirled. The ghouls collapsed mid-charge, kneeling before him like soldiers before a king.
Aiden's heart pounded. The power was intoxicating. Elara looked at him with fear.
"Aiden…" she whispered. "You're not the same."
Chapter 4: Betrayal in the Light
After days on the run, the group reached the fortified town of Greystone. At first, the guards welcomed them, grateful for anyone who had survived the spreading plague of undead. Aiden even used his strange gift to drive back a horde, saving dozens of lives.
For a time, he almost believed he could be a hero.
But whispers spread quickly. Survivors spoke of his black mark, of the way the dead obeyed him. Fear poisoned their gratitude.
One night, Aiden awoke to find cold steel pressing against his throat. A group of knights loomed over him, torches in hand.
"You brought this curse upon us," their captain hissed. "You're no savior. You're the Deathlord reborn."
Elara threw herself over her brother. "No! He saved you! He's not a monster!"
But the knights raised their swords. Aiden's anger boiled over. Shadows erupted from his body, tossing the men aside like ragdolls. Their screams echoed through the night as the mark flared across his arm and chest.
When it was over, the men lay broken on the ground. Aiden stood trembling, smoke rising from his skin. He looked at his hands — stained with both blood and darkness.
Kael watched from the shadows, his eyes grim. "The line between man and monster grows thinner every day. Choose wisely, Aiden Crowe. For soon, the world will force you to choose."