The Last Sane Awoken: F R E E D O M

By Stephany Barcomb-Rodriguez

Words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephany Barcomb-Rodriguez
• Release date: Apr 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9780578396934

Book preview

1

Darkness Falls

An opaque darkness hazed before his eyes and a black cloud wisped between his fingers. He breathed unsteadily behind his plague mask, the only garment protecting him from certain death. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping the remainder of his squad managed to escape the storm in time.  

A bout of crackling electrified the air. It brought his attention back to the storm before him. The clouds shifted and crawled around either side of him and created high walls that unveiled a small town’s utter devastation.

Every patch of grass began withering, right down to the very blades beneath his feet as his black and pointed dress shoes crunched over dead leaves scattering the earth. The wooden cabins began to rot and decay, planks splintering as one of the structures collapsed into a pile of desiccated rubble.  

Dmitry stood, petrified like an iron statue, among the multitudes of human bodies heaped around him. Their skin began to fester, and patches of black spread quickly outward as each body decomposed at an ever-accelerating rate. Witnessing the small bodies of children as they reduced to nothing made his heart ache, and guilt plagued him for his and his companions’ too-late arrival.  

While Dmitry gazed upon the mound of villagers, the shadows of the humans, animals, and buildings flickered across the ground. The blackened masses distorted and stretched from their points of origin before accumulating into a massive blob and slithering over to their new host.

It was then, within the haze of dark clouds and pelting rain, that Dmitry caught sight of a pair of piercing and cold blue eyes staring back at him.

Eva! Dmitry whispered when he caught sight of her deathly pale skin, black-stained lips, and the figure of a woman best described as a skin-covered skeleton.

Much like the other Awoken, the woman’s cackling speech echoed like heat lightning passing between the clouds. We meet again, little Dmitry.  

Dmitry frowned behind his plague mask.  

Did you truly believe one small militia and one Master Necromancer could stop us? She cackled again, her head barely held up above her misaligned shoulders and her arms hanging flaccid at her sides. Her fingers twitched in anticipation as she tottered in an unbalanced stance. You’re but a mere child compared to your superiors, despite the necromancer blood coursing through your veins. . . not to mention your filthy animal half. She twitched and rattled like a shuffling skeleton. I can smell that revolting stench from here, you disgusting excuse of a master.  

Mother. . . . Dmitry growled. He balled his fists at his sides, thick human hair coating his hands up to his knuckles. This is madness! At this rate, the world will be consumed in darkness and millions will die. Vegetation, animals, and resources . . . all will be ruined. Your plan is a death sentence to all, not just those unlike us. You must reconsider! You act to protect your Awoken children, but you will also lead to their destruction!  

The raven-haired woman laughed as she stumbled toward Dmitry. He swallowed hard and kept a close eye on her jittery movements.  

Your father was right about you, she hissed. What a privilege it must be to live in a time when you are not hunted by man and Angels, a time when you never lost someone you love merely for existing. You’re much too naïve, little one, and have much to learn about the world.

Eva smirked and threw open her arms. My beautiful undead children, heed my word! They spread the darkness with their cute little spells and curses, rip shadows clean off the living, and destroy towns and villages with beautiful Black Mist Storms. She gestured to the steep wall of cloud undulating around them.  

They’re innocent, Mother! Dmitry shook his head and threw open his arms. You’ve corrupted them and made them puppets to your will. They didn’t choose this life! You’ve taken these victims and have trained them into tools of mass destruction. I’m not naïve, Mother. I’m humane.

My sweet child, the woman cooed in a ridiculing tone. One day you will understand us. Once your heart has sufficiently blackened, you will join our cause just like your father did. You cannot resist your duty forever.  

I will not let it get to that point. I am nothing like my father! Dmitry’s nostrils flared. I’d rather die than obey you!  

Is that so? The shambling woman inched closer. Then I suppose it is time that I strip you of your shadow and soul. No sense wasting such a powerful and untapped potential any longer than we must. She clicked her tongue, Either hand it over to me by choice, or I will take it by force!"  

Eva’s anger surged, and the wind whipped up.

Dmitry’s clothes were heavy and soaked from the hard rainfall, and the harsh winds drove the cold through his thick skin. The Black Mist Storm around them rippled and bent to Mother’s will.  

The walls of clouds tumbled down upon the field and envelop Dmitry in dense, opaque darkness.  Shocks of lightning coursed between the clouds and forced him to the ground.

Okay, Dmitry . . . focus. He mumbled beneath his mask. Focus on finding a way out.  

His quivering hand touched the ground beneath his feet, his shadow was still intact. 

Just another empty threat from Mother.

As much as they spoke ill of him, Mother’s following would never leave him to die. They refused to admit that Dmitry’s skills were useful, but Mother wasn’t nearly as blind.

Mother’s disappearance did not help Dmitry now. Dmitry’s black locks lifted in the wind, the split ends tickling the nape of his neck and his short, pointed ears. He trembled more from the sheer cold than from fear as he forced himself to keep moving. His cape flapped hard against him, his ears inundated with the sounds of the drastic winds, rumbling thunder, pouring rain, and Dmitry’s own rapid breaths.  

Dmitry opened the worn pages of an old journal, and its lettering began to glow a putrid green. Pages flipped at Dmitry’s silent command until he found the page he wanted. He dug into the profaned ground with his claw like black nails and etched some symbols into the sodden dirt.  

The ground illuminated with ancient symbols, and Dmitry followed their path. He made haste in their direction, not wanting to spend another second in the treacherous storm.

The hairs on his neck stood straight up as Dmitry sensed a danger he could not see. He dropped to the ground and dodged a chunk of wall that hurtled overhead.

Shit, Dmitry spat. He stood and, half-hunched, continued along his path.  

When the haze thinned and Dmitry could once again see his surroundings, he hurried to safety far beyond the reach of the swirling clouds. Running forward, he kept one wary eye on the tornado engulfing the old village behind him.

I couldn’t save a single one. . . . Dmitry’s shoulders sank beneath his heavy clothes. If things kept going like this, the insane Awoken were sure to win.

2

The Awoken

Dmitry caught sight of his squad around their wagon in the distance. His captain, Nora, rushed over to him first, her shoulder-length red hair bouncing with every leap. 

 Dmitry! You’re alive! Nora shouted, her turquoise eyes wide in terror. Her white cotton dress flapped behind her as she ran the final distance to meet Dmitry. She threw her arms around Dmitry’s waist and hugged him tighter than the belt that held up his slacks. Everyone thought you were dead! How the hell did you survive that Black Mist Storm?  

 Dmitry rubbed Nora’s back, and then glanced behind him to check that the storm wasn’t pursuing him. Because I’m a necromancer. 

Nora released him and took several steps back as the rest of the soldiers gathered around Dmitry. 

Dmitry tapped his mask, which vanished at his silent command. The Black Mists cannot harm me unless I breathe them in. You all did the right thing to escape when you did.  

The small group observed Dmitry in tense silence.

Mother revealed herself to me. Dmitry continued. Nora’s eyes widened with fresh surprise. She wants to recruit me, one way or another. Dmitry ran his fingers through his white-peppered black hair. She’s relentless. At this rate . . . He sighed, I’m sorry, Nora.  

Nora frowned. She looked up into Dmitry’s catlike, icy eyes resting beneath his thick eyelashes. Sorry? Nora said. For what? You saved us! 

The men exchanged a few quiet words before they nodded in agreement with their captain.  

Dmitry scoffed, the fanglike canines that always protruded from his mouth curling his lips into a frown. It matters little so long as I haven’t found the Last Sane Awoken. I alone cannot face Mother, nor can I halt her spread of darkness. I may be able to survive the Black Mist Storms, but I cannot disperse them. He sighed again and rubbed his fingers over the worry-born wrinkles furrowing his forehead. Only an Awoken can put a stop to this madness for good.  

Nora rubbed her hand over a golden bangle that jangled on her wrist. You’re doing everything you can. Even with all her powers, Mother hasn’t found this Last Sane Awoken. We still have a chance. Mother knows if we find them first, she will fail!  

But if she finds them, we might as well drink poison and save ourselves the trouble of Mother’s torment, Dmitry snorted.  

Don’t be so grim! Nora scolded. She placed her hands on her hips. Let’s return to the fortress. We’ll hand our reports to Commander Tahan and discuss our next mission. Maybe the scouts finally discovered a clue as to the whereabouts of this hidden Awoken. 

The group meandered back to their wagon. Once there, Nora brought Dmitry to a small chest and fished out a bundle of documents. 

We’ll send a hawk ahead of us and let Commander Tahan know what happened, Nora said.  

Dmitry shoved his fists deep into his black slacks. He leaned over Nora for a better view of the parchment and map. I want to know what information the scouts may have gathered as soon as possible. Can you request Tahan include their reports with his reply?  

Nora nodded and smiled at Dmitry. Don’t look so glum! Nora glanced around at the dark sea of exhausted eyes belonging to her men. Don’t lose hope just yet; I’m sure Tahan has some news for us. For now, let’s pack up and keep moving. No sense in us hanging around any longer than we must if Mother might still be nearby. 

The men exchanged nervous glances.

 I’m sure Mother has found another unfortunate village to purge by now, Dmitry chimed in. The sun should rise within the hour. Let’s make haste down this mountain. Around midday we can stop to rest.  

A soft wind tousled Dmitry’s shadowy cape. He wore his thick clothes even under the most grueling desert sun, and heavy mounts rested upon his shoulders like black crescent moons. The Master Necromancer took his title seriously, preferring to dress in the traditional attire of his profession at all times, regardless of any perceived inconvenience.  

There he goes, being all pensive and brooding again. Nora took in a deep breath. Come on, Dmitry! Nora waved for him to follow the group as the squad got the wagon moving. Eventually he trotted up to her side, and she could see the worry knotting his jaw. Let me guess: she mentioned the dog thing again?  

Dmitry rolled his eyes. They can’t get enough of my being the only Master Necromancer who also happens to be a Bloodbeast. A Master Necromancer is expected to reflect such perfection in our hygiene and appearance, but I simply cannot mask my scent.  

Nora sniffed in Dmitry’s direction. I don’t even notice it anymore. Nora shrugged. Besides, you’re a Bloodbeast! Of course you’re going to smell like your spirit animal. Nora curled her fingers into claws and raked the air. I’d love to see you go dog mode and rip them to shreds one of these days. That’ll teach them!  

Dmitry chuckled. A bit barbaric, but I suppose it would get the point across.  

Nora patted him on the back. Attaboy.

Dmitry let out a drawn out sigh. I’m a Bloodbeast, not some common house pet. . . .

Far from shadow attacks, the Awoken, and Mother, the group eventually arrived in the land of the living. Green grass filled their sights, the world around them alive and thriving, yet still at risk of being engulfed in death and darkness. 

While the remaining soldiers and Nora had relaxed somewhat since Mother’s attack, Dmitry was still on high alert and carefully scanned the hilly horizon.  

Malvado was a beautiful little country, yet some of the most heinous souls reigned within it. Whenever their group was assigned a mission anywhere near here, they always took precautions, particularly regarding the women. The men in the country of Malvado were notorious for their smoky cigars, raucous parties, and blatant abuse.  

An odd sensation tickled Dmitry’s chest. It felt similar to a call from the dead, but somehow different. Many of the dead spoke with muffled voices, and some in foreign sounds, but Dmitry could’ve sworn he heard words echoing from far off in the distance. 

Do you hear a voice? Dmitry asked one of the nearby soldiers.

The soldier shook his head. Only yours, sir.

I see, Dmitry said. Then, in a clear, echoed male voice, a plea rang in his ears:  

Please . . . help me! 

Dmitry scanned the canopy of trees filling the hollow below. Grounding himself on the mountainside, he stretched forward, wondering if he had only imagined this strange-feeling call from the dead. 

However, the gentle pulling at his heart never ceased. 

Dmitry glanced back to his squad. A couple of soldiers led the wagon full of supplies by steed. Nora made her way back toward him with a letter in hand. 

Nor—

My soul is empty . . . my body hollow. 

Death embraces me. 

Lead me home, necromancer— 

The distressed voice stabbed at Dmitry’s heart. He shut his eyes for a moment and felt himself drawn to the west by the fervent, woeful call. 

Please . . . save me from this darkness. 

Is something wrong Dmitry? Nora’s voice broke Dmitry’s concentration. She held a partially unraveled parchment. From the look of the broken seal, it was a reply from their commander. 

Save me from this nightmare—! 

Dmitry looked down to meet his captain’s turquoise eyes with a look of ancient woe. Slack-jawed and with fangs visible over his bottom lip, he turned to the west. The wind sent his black locks back and caused his cape to gently flap behind him.

There’s a call, Nora. Dmitry raised his arm and pointed. A call from the dead. Due west.  

Dead like the undead, or—? Nora paused. By now the wagon ceased moving and several men looked in the direction Dmitry— rather, the necromancer of their party—pointed.

My flesh remains cursed by my undead soul. 

I am a prisoner to the Ancient Ones. . . . 

Dmitry, Tahan sent us an update about—   

Hush! Dmitry growled. I can’t hear it over your chattering!

Nora pursed her lips and waited patiently while Dmitry again focused on the call. 

. . . free me from my nightmare. 

Protect my soul, guide me with your light. 

Help me break free from these ancient chains. 

Release me from this agony! 

 My flesh remains, cursed by my undead soul. A prisoner to the Ancient Ones, Dmitry mumbled. He turned back to Nora and said, I believe from the voice I’m hearing is that of an Awoken. The pointed toes of Dmitry’s black shoes hung over the cliff’s edge. Someone bring me a map!  

An Awoken? Captain Nora turned to her squad and signaled for one of the nearby soldiers. 

A moment later, a soldier returned with a large roll of parchment. Dmitry snatched the roll the soldier held out in his direction. 

Nora craned her neck to look at Dmitry’s face as he fixed his dagger eyes upon the parchment. 

Do you think it might be a trap set by Mother, or could it be the Awoken we’ve been searching for? Nora said.

Dmitry’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head in thought, the group silent as they waited on Dmitry’s word. 

A moment later, Dmitry glanced at Nora. I believe this Awoken is the one we’ve been searching for. An insane Awoken would have a particular call . . . one of cackling laughter and with obvious bursts of insanity in their plea. This one speaks to me in prayer and feels . . . innocuous. It’s not yet corrupted by Mother; I’m sure of it!  

Really? Nora gasped. The soldiers within earshot dared to smile at the news. If it means ending this war even a moment sooner… Let’s go find them!  

There is one problem, Dmitry said with a stern look. In the direction of the call is the Amaral Manor. 

Nora blinked her eyes and gasped, Amaral Manor? As in, insane Lord Lucius Amaral’s manor? She crossed her arms and shivered. Lord Lucius Amaral’s reputation spread far beyond the borders of Malvado. There’s no way we’re going to get in there to investigate. That Lagartija has been controlling Malvado over the last twenty years. No one can enter the manor without a prior invitation.

We have a history, Dmitry said. He rolled up the map and handed it back to one of the soldiers with a gentle nod. Like myself, the Lagartija is a mutated Bloodbeast; however, our similarities end there. I’m half-human, but he’s half-Lagartija. 

Does he also have the fangs and all the body hair? Nora gestured at her small human teeth. 

Dmitry scoffed at the question. However, he knew that outside of his small country it was rare to catch a Bloodbeast out and about, so he answered with a simple, Yes, Nora.  

Same with the thick clawed nails? Again, Nora’s fingers curled and showed off her short human nubs she possessed for nails.

Yes. However, his claws are brown, unlike mine. Dmitry splayed his clawed fingers to show off his rich black nails, a trait he possessed due to his potent necromancer’s blood. Hair grew between each of his finger joints as well as covered much of the back of his hand. I’m quite scrawny for a Bloodbeast. Lucius is more typical: a muscly brute and a master of blood magic. Dmitry shrugged, A pointless skill to learn, if you ask me, Dmitry grumbled under his breath. 

I’m guessing he has a beast form too? Nora’s bangles jangled with her every light step.

All beings with Bloodbeast blood are born connected to a spirit animal and can morph at will into their beast forms, even if they are a halfling. Dmitry chuckled. Hazard a guess as to what his beast form is?  

A dragon? Nora sighed. She slouched her shoulders when Dmitry nodded. Damn, Nora nibbled her thumbnail. So, he’s strong, knows blood magic, and he can shapeshift into a dragon. Nora eyed Dmitry with an appraising glance. Could you take him on in your beast form? 

I couldn’t say for certain without making an attempt. He mumbled, I’d rather not initiate any violence. We parted ways on amicable enough of terms . . . we even shook hands before he set off from Sylvania. Dmitry gazed toward the distant horizon and said, Perhaps I can make a formal request to meet and have you accompany me.  

Are you crazy? Nora’s jaw dropped. She took a step back and shivered. We shouldn’t risk anything that might rouse Lucius’s rage and put his army at our fortress doors. And if he knows of the Awoken that’s calling to you, I doubt he will simply hand them over to us. 

We’ll play the situation by ear. I’ll try to get us twelve hours. Dmitry glanced over at the squad. We’ll have the squad wait for us at a rendezvous point. Once we find the Awoken, we’ll convince them to return to the fortress with us and break them out. 

It seems too risky to me. Nora shook her head. We can’t afford to lose anyone right now, even for an Awoken.  

My sole responsibility as part of the militia is to find and train the Last Sane Awoken to aid us in the war, Dmitry said. "We must do this, Nora. There is no other way."  

Nora sighed. I suppose . . . but are you sure you can get us in there?  

I’ll draft a letter and send it via hawk. Dmitry briskly made his way to the wagon. He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, ink, and a quill from his bag. Before he began writing, he glanced back to the squad. It may take several days to hear a response. Should we send the men back to the fortress so they can report back to the Commander?  

No. Nora walked up behind Dmitry. I don’t want to split up across country borders. I’d rather the wagon and men be in a safe place within the confines of Malvado. What if an Awoken or Mother herself attacks out there? 

Fair enough. Dmitry nodded. Let’s set up camp. There’s a ravine nearby that has fresh water, and we can hunt if we need meat for dinner. 

Sounds good. She glanced back over her hand, recalling their update letter. Maybe we should read through Commander Tahan’s update first? 

Dmitry stopped writing and looked up just as Nora finished unraveling the report. Despite the large sheet, there was a very brief note: 

Mother has claimed three more villages. Storms are appearing out of nowhere and refugees are finding it difficult to make their way to us. Disappointing to hear she wiped another village out by you.  

Return to the fortress immediately. We can discuss the information gathered by the scouts in full upon your arrival.   

Dmitry scoffed, Lovely. I’m not fond of going against orders, but in this case, I insist we must, Nora. Dmitry scratched the quill across the parchment in a neat scrawl. Tahan won’t like it, but so be it. I’m willing to risk anything if it means a chance to recruit the Last Sane Awoken.   

While awaiting a response, Dmitry took out his necromancy journal. He flipped through the aged, yellowed pages detailing his studies of the Awoken before finally landing upon a particular page. He flattened the minor wrinkles and read. 

Dmitry first presented himself to the militia three years ago, volunteering his abilities to help fight back the shadows that plagued their world. Within the last decade the Bloodbeast became a Master Necromancer, and he wanted to use this sacred skill for the greater good; however, with most of the known Master Necromancers siding with Mother’s cause, the militia had its reservations about him. With diligent effort on the militia’s behalf, they grew to trust Dmitry over time, and he was ecstatic to now count himself firmly among their number. 

But Mother was strong. Despite Dmitry’s efforts, the state of the world only continued to crumble. Countless villages were plagued with death due to the toxic darkness, countless people with stolen shadows and fragmented souls left in a frigid and vegetative state while the reputations of necromancers were left tainted more than ever. Dmitry wanted to use his Masterhood to study and provide resources for future necromancers. While he was not particularly fond of initiating violence, duty called upon him to do what he might to protect the world. 

The studious silence broke when Nora sat down beside Dmitry. A new fire crackled and popped nearby. Dmitry looked up from his tome and noticed Nora’s gaze pointed up to the sky where many of the stars were emerging in the wake of the setting sun. 

Nora sighed. Perhaps it’s foolhardy to hope, but . . . if the Awoken really is in there, we might finally end this war.  

Dmitry hummed thoughtfully. I would hope so. I have many questions for this lonesome Awoken. Why is there an Awoken in Amaral Manor? What could Lucius want with an undead person that would be worth letting the whole world crumble? We’ll have to seek out the dungeons, look for hidden torture chambers . . . the Awoken must be awake for it to speak to me. He frowned and tapped a finger over the neatly written words on the wrinkled pages. I cannot help but feel many answers will be unveiled once we arrive. 

"If we arrive." Nora crossed her arms and shuddered despite the fire’s warmth.

I’m certain Lucius will be intrigued enough by the idea of a meeting to allow it. A swift roll of Dmitry’s eyes showcased his annoyance with the Lagartija. He enjoys nothing more than talking about himself. I’m sure he’ll have plenty to regale me with about his rise to power. He can talk my ear off as much as he likes while you investigate the manor.  

Nora nodded, her brows furrowed pensively. She tucked a tuft of short red hair behind her caramel ear and revealed a sparkly golden earring. And we could finally stop Mother. 

If we could do that, it would save the world from pure darkness and destruction. Dmitry flashed a toothy smile. Her rate of spreading her dark clouds and Black Mist Storms has grown exponentially. He frowned again and sighed, If we could defeat her without the aid of an Awoken, I’d have done so by now. No mere living being can destroy her. We must harness the power of the Last Sane Awoken and eradicate Mother once and for all.  

But what if the Awoken that’s calling to you is corrupted or doesn’t want to help? The dead sometimes ignore your commands, Nora said with a look of concern.

Dmitry narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils at Nora. 

I’m just wondering . . . what makes an undead being any different? Nora said.

We will simply have to make a pressing case and convince the Awoken to join our cause. Dmitry shut his journal and slumped the aged text into a handbag-sized green portal. We don’t even know if this Awoken has any specialized training in shadow magic. Most of my notes are on Mother and her corrupted children, and hardly any documents have surfaced about a sane child, their status being relatively unknown for many years.  

Several men sat around the fire. They listened to their leaders speak with eager ears interested in gleaning some knowledge as to what might soon be their fates. The genuine expert here was Dmitry, the Master Necromancer filled with extensive knowledge. Several men fidgeted, their terror-stricken faces turned toward the fire. No doubt they imagined the worst-case scenarios coming true. 

Nora whispered so the other men would not hear. "Dmitry, you do know what you’re getting into, don’t you?"  

Not entirely, no, Dmitry admitted with a shrug. However, I am prepared to meet the challenge, whatever it may be. His voice was gruff and haggard from their long expedition. If we snag the Awoken, I will train them to face Mother. I just need to study their existing abilities—whatever they may be—and document the Awoken’s progress thereafter.  

Sounds noble, but we’re seeking the youngest Awoken of them all. Nora huffed. Mother is well over five thousand years old, and she’s also a Master Necromancer! 

Dmitry’s eyes hardened at her words. 

I guess. Nora looked toward the flickering fire. It’s difficult to imagine how a young undead—one that might not even know any shadow magic—could face a tyrant that has been around for thousands of years and expect to win. Hope is bleak, Dmitry. Everything’s riding on this.  

The men who heard Captain Nora’s words nodded their heads vigorously. 

I understand; however, worrying over what is unknown will not do us any good. Though I may not be as old and experienced as Mother, I am still a Master Necromancer and am fully capable of supporting the Awoken. Dmitry paused and scratched his chin. Please, try not to fret about the future. In times like these, it is better to fill your mind with positive thoughts.

I suppose you’re right, Nora sighed.

Dmitry brushed some of the white and grey hairs of his forelock back with the blacker strands. Once this war ends, I can return home. It’s been almost four years since I left my people under my brother’s rule in Sylvania.  

 I’m sure your people miss you. Nora nodded. It must be rough leaving your entire kingdom behind for years.  

My small kingdom is like a single anthill compared to the greater world, but yes. Dmitry grinned. I’d like to return one day. I miss my family, although I do not miss being surrounded by Bloodbeasts all day. I’ve grown rather fond of the more civilized nature of your militia. He chuckled. Everyone is modestly attired according to their stations, there are not nearly as many rowdy fights, there are far fewer territorial disputes, and there’s no biting when words fail. A small slice of civilized paradise if you ask me. 

Nora chuckled. I’ll be glad when the war is over, but I’ll miss having you around. You’ll have to make plans to visit me because I’m not entirely sure I’m cut out for a visit to Sylvania.  

Dmitry laughed, fangs clearly visible within his open lips. I would never suggest a human visit Sylvania. You’d be seen as little more than a convenient snack! Dmitry’s body relaxed, his thumb nervously dragging over the seams lining his slacks. It would honestly be more trouble for me than if I came to you, so I would be more than happy to visit you when this war is over.  

Late into the night, the hawk returned. Dmitry glanced over the expensive-looking fine-grained parchment, noting the golden Amaral family crest pressed into the bottom corner of the letter in the form of a decorative letter A. 

Well, he’s happy to hear from me, and he’s formally inviting us to the manor, Dmitry said.

That was almost too simple, Nora said. That hawk came back in a flash!

Having connections pays off, Dmitry smirked. Suddenly, a deep apprehension at the thought of speaking with the crazed Lagartija finally struck him. He looked down at his captain. Nora, we must prepare ourselves prior to our visit with Lucius. 

You’re the one leading. She crossed her arms, Whatcha got?  

Dmitry carefully folded the invitation and slipped it into his front breast pocket. I worry for you.  

Why? I can take care of myself. Nora flipped her hair in a dismissive gesture. They didn’t make me captain for no reason, Nora sassed. 

I don’t doubt your ability, Nora. However, I fear his brutality and lack of stability. Dmitry caught Nora’s face softening. Lucius has never respected women or any other being he deems subordinate to him. More than any other man I have met, his obsession with power and control is absolute. He’s ruthless, Nora, and I would be devastated if anything were to happen to you. 

Nora remained silent, understanding of the delicacy of the situation. 

Let me take the lead, Dmitry said. I believe Lucius still holds a shred of respect for me as his grand chief. If you speak directly to him, he will either blatantly ignore you, or he may lash out at you. Dmitry wagged a rigid finger as if scolding Nora. We cannot compromise the mission, nor can we afford to lose you, Captain Nora. 

Nora clenched her teeth and hissed. Alright, fine. You work your magic. Hopefully, we’ll be on our way back to the fortress with the Awoken on our side in a matter of days.  

Nora glanced at her men, most of them still settling in for their night’s rest. 

Attention! Nora announced. 

The men reflexively snapped to attention, one man dropping a set of tent poles with his fellow soldier still inside the half-erected shelter. 

Dmitry and I will go to the Amaral estate before dawn, Nora said. After our departure, make your way to the rendezvous point I’ve marked on the company map and await our return. It should not take us more than a few days . . . I hope. 

3

Hope

In the morning, Dmitry and Nora set off to meet the Lagartija, Lucius, at Amaral Manor. Nora wore a simple white cotton dress, her golden bangles, and a necklace. Dmitry dressed in the typical elegant ensemble of a Master Necromancer: a black shirt that contoured his torso, fitted black slacks, slim dress shoes, and a rich black cape lined with velvety red fabric.  

Arriving at the estate, the two stood before a pair of colossal black gates adorned with decorative filigree. Dmitry reached over and grabbed a rope to ring the bell. He looked down at Nora and whispered between the bell’s clanging tolls, I can hear the call so loudly now. The Awoken must be inside. 

The bell attracted a woman to the gates. Dmitry took in her appearance. She possessed pointed ears, delicate skin, straight and fair hair, and a stoic face. Judging from her button nose, wide yet mature hazel eyes, and the subtle curvature of her ears, he deduced she must be an elf of the wood variety. 

What is the purpose of your visit, The wood elf woman asked in a soothing voice that dripped with the common Elven grace. Dmitry retrieved the letter of invitation from his breast pocket and passed the parchment through the gate with a polite, toothy smile. 

Upon noticing the A decorating the exterior of the parchment, the woman had the gates opened to allow them inside. Dmitry and Nora barely stepped inside before the black iron gates closed promptly behind them.  

Dmitry’s eyes swerved through the sizable courtyard. A pristine fountain bubbled peacefully in the middle of the small square before the grand manor. Standing mighty at the fountain’s center was a marble dragon with water dripping from its mouth that trickled into the pool below. The entire courtyard was lined in hedges taller than Dmitry and that obscured the black gates from