Far beyond the lands of kings and living men, there was a place where the sun rarely touched the ground.
A cursed Land.
The wind carried the smell of rot and old graves. Nothing grew there anymore. No birds sang. No animals wandered into its borders.
People from the nearby kingdoms called it only one thing.
The Shadow Kingdom.
Because that was where he ruled.
Morvexis.
The Dark Lord.
His kingdom was not like the kingdoms of men. There were no markets, no laughter, no children running through the streets.
Only silence.
And the dead.
Endless graves covered the land like a dark sea. Rusted swords, broken armor, and scattered bones filled the old battlefields that had become part of Morvexis' domain.
Many of those graves were not even marked.
Some were ancient.
Some were fresh.
War had touched this land for centuries, and every battle had left behind more bodies for the Dark Lord to claim.
At the center of the cursed land stood a massive fortress.
The Bone Citadel.
Its black walls rose high into the night sky like the ribs of a giant beast. Green flames burned in giant braziers along the towers, casting an eerie glow across the land.
From far away, travelers could see those flames and know they were close to death.
Few dared come near.
Inside the throne hall sat the ruler of this dark kingdom.
Morvexis.
He sat upon a throne built from skulls and bones. Some of the skulls were human. Others belonged to creatures long forgotten by the world.
His pale face showed no emotion as he looked down at the figures kneeling before him.
They were not men.
They were corpses.
Dead soldiers from wars long forgotten, now bound to his will by forbidden necromancy.
Their armor was rusted.
Their bodies broken.
Yet they moved when he commanded.
For years Morvexis had built his army of the dead.
Every battlefield.
Every graveyard.
Every forgotten tomb.
All had become his hunting ground.
Still, it was not enough.
Morvexis slowly rose from the throne.
The corpses in the hall lowered their heads as their master walked past them.
Even the dead seemed to feel the weight of his presence.
Dark energy flowed quietly around him like cold mist.
Moments later, he stepped out onto the great balcony of the Bone Citadel.
The cold wind brushed against his cloak.
Below him stretched miles of graves under the dark sky.
Thousands of them.
Warriors.
Knights.
Kings.
All buried beneath the soil of the Shadow Kingdom.
For a long moment, Morvexis simply watched.
This land had once belonged to many kingdoms.
Now it belonged only to him.
Slowly, the Dark Lord lifted his hand.
Green necromantic energy began to swirl around his fingers like smoke from another world.
The air itself seemed to grow colder.
The ground waited.
His voice was calm and commanding when he spoke.
"Rise."
For a moment, the land was silent.
Then the ground began to tremble.
Small cracks appeared in the soil.
Then the cracks spread.
The earth shifted like something beneath it was waking.
The silence broke.
Suddenly—
Hands burst from the ground.
Rotting fingers clawed their way through the dirt as corpses dragged themselves from their graves.
One corpse.
Then ten.
Then hundreds.
Then thousands.
Across the entire valley, the dead began to rise.
Some had broken armor.
Some had empty eye sockets.
Some were little more than bones held together by dark magic.
Many of them tried to scream.
But their voices had been taken by death long ago.
Yet their bodies still obeyed.
Every corpse slowly turned toward the Bone Citadel.
Toward their master.
The army grew larger with every passing moment.
Thousands of dead soldiers now stood across the dark valley.
A silent sea of corpses.
Morvexis watched them without emotion.
This was his kingdom.
And they were his soldiers.
The Dark Lord raised his hand once more.
The undead army stood perfectly still, waiting.
Then he gave the command.
"March."
The dead began to move.
Slowly at first.
Then together.
Thousands of corpses marching across the valley like a tide of death.
The sound of their footsteps echoed through the night.
But as Morvexis watched his army leave the valley…
Something strange happened.
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed slightly.
Among the countless graves beneath the hill…
One grave remained untouched.
The soil above it did not move.
The corpse beneath it did not rise.
Even though Morvexis had commanded the dead.
For the first time in a long while, the Dark Lord felt something unusual.
Curiosity.
His glowing eyes slowly turned toward that single grave.
The wind grew colder.
The earth above it suddenly cracked.
But the corpse did not rise.
Instead…
Something beneath the grave moved.
And far below the soil—
Something opened its eyes.