Spell failed. Level insufficient.

???

The same message. Over, and over again.

“So, chief?” Hagen asked as he entered Nastrond's cathedral, finding his master casting spells on a giant serpent’s bones.

“I have run every magical test possible, every divination spell I know, searched every book available,” Tye said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “I cannot identify what this creature is. I have theories, but I can’t confirm any.”

“It’s a primordial dragon, obviously,” Hagen said, stating the simple solution. “Could be a spawn of Jormungandr, the Midgard Serpent.”

“But then I should be able to read its Type,” the necromancer pointed out. “And so far I haven’t been able to raise the other corpses either. The Aesir gods purified them with spells beyond my current power.”

Why did the Aesir go so far to erase these creatures from existence? They had sealed this city beneath the earth and made sure no mortal even remembered its existence. Why not safeguard the spring of Yggdrasil? To prevent the Calamities from finding it?

The only remains he hadn’t tried to animate were the serpent's. And unlike the others, they hadn’t been purified. In all likelihood, the serpent had starved while trapped inside the cathedral; but why hadn’t it fed on the spring?

Tye had refused to raise that creature, even as a non-sentient Undead, without understanding its true nature first. He didn’t need these bones with the spring in his possession, and they had resisted his attempts to craft them into weapons. He had nothing to gain, and much to lose.

But curiosity was always one of his cardinal sins. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“[Animate Dead],” Tye said as he touched the bones, and channeled his necromancy through the head. With his [True Necromancer] Perk from the [Deathlord] class, he could raise almost any type of undead. He would animate the head as a—

“I WILL NEVER DIE!”

The booming echo of a dread, ancient voice echoed through the necromancer’s mind, as his magic experienced a violent backslash. In a second, his senses were no longer his own, ancient memories flooding in his head.

“I watched... perish a thousand... this time… no different... I alone... forever… Earthlanders… my breath brings… hopelessness and decay… I am… eternal serpent...”

“If you die… Ragnarok… never… Hel… starve… Nastrond… your lair… your tomb...”

“A curse on you… Odin… Hel… curse you all… rising dead… reborn… shed old skin… eternal life… I am… unlife…”

“Chief!”

Tye suddenly returned to reality, as Hagen pulled him away from the serpent’s corpse. The bones resonated with necrotic magic and then became inert again.

“What was that?” Hagen asked. “The soul is still there?”

“No,” Tye shook his head, recovering his bearing. “But as Laufey said, it left some emotions in these old bones.”

And they could be boiled down to one sentiment.

Pure, undiluted hatred.

“It seems that the creature was no friend of the Aesir,” Tye said. “And I believe it gave us a postmortem blessing.”

“Oh, great, is there a city deed to go with it?” the dullahan chuckled, looking at the murals. “Or a notice to understand this?”

The necromancer shook his head, unable to get used to his friend’s humor. His eyes trailed to the murals, to these near-countless representations of Ragnarok. “It stretches further and further if I fly up,” the necromancer said. “They may actually be infinite.”

Each ‘row’ represented the prophecies of Ragnarok, as detailed in the Yggdrasil system. Odin’s death at the jaws of Fenrir, Thor’s fatal duel with Jormungandr, Loki’s final jest, the burning of the World Tree… sometimes the murals were identical, but most differed in subtle ways. The fighters were represented with different weapons, or the battles took place elsewhere.

The result was always the same though.

“It could have been some of these Ragnarok cults, trying to decipher how they could survive the end,” Hagen suggested, as the two walked out of the cathedral. “The prophecies are awfully ambiguous.”

“The belief of the occupants matters little to our goal.” Tye said, more to himself than to his friend. There was only one thing he should focus on right now, and it was the cure for death.

After taking over Nastrond, the necromancer had ordered their sanctuary moved to it, turning the Cathedral into a laboratory and the rest of the city into their lair; so far only the demon Beli hadn’t been transferred yet, due to the dangers involved in weakening his binding. Undead workers extracted the alkahest veins, while the goblins cleaned the streets and repaired the holes in the fortifications. Although Tye only had a skeleton crew to staff the massive city, with time, he could return it to its old glory.

Spook, however, remained uncontrollable whenever he spent more than an hour in Nastrond. Tye had no other choice but put him in charge of overseeing Level Two since he couldn’t be deployed elsewhere. Duke would maintain control of the ruins in Level Three, and Hagen would hold Nastrond should Tye not be present to do it himself. Ghostring, as usual, would serve as the dungeon's main patrol.

This only left one elite to assign a mission to.

Laufey was busy redecorating the plaza in front of the cathedral, crafting a symmetrical tree of bones and body parts right in its middle. Tye didn’t know whether he should feel disturbed by her design choice or amazed by her artistic style. Morgane, who watched the scene, definitely felt both.

“Oh, darling, have you finished working with your bones?” Laufey casually asked the necromancer, while Morgane bowed in deference. “I am dying, waiting for you to give the order.”

“The order?” he repeated, confused.

“Darling, with this,” she waved her hand at the cathedral, and the city around them, “you could rule the world. Give me the order, and I will follow you to victory.”

“Unlikely,” Tye replied dryly.

“Maybe I exaggerate a bit,” she said. “Perhaps not the world, but you could carve an empire for yourself.”

“Jarl Hagen sounds nice,” the dullahan said, although he clearly didn’t mean it.

“Why?” Tye asked, never having understood why so many people had a fixation on conquest. “What productive aim does it achieve?”

“You get power, fame, riches, pleasure… legions of slaves awaiting your every command...”

“If you want to feel superior to a lesser creature, buy a dog,” Tye told Laufey with cold disdain. Another hound, in her case. “Obsession with fame and power is the telltale sign of small minds.”

Laufey sighed. “You are disappointing, my master. Such incredible potential, wasted. I will need to do something about it.”

“What do you know of the Calamity Cults?” Tye asked, changing the subject. “Especially your father’s?”

“You want me to tell him about this place?” She smiled at the necromancer. “He would be so grateful. At least for five minutes, before something more interesting comes along.”

“What is he like?” Tye asked, curious.

“Charming company, lies all the time, warped sense of humor,” she replied, completing her sculpture. “Do you know he fathered me with Mother while polymorphed as her husband? A dark elf that he had killed ten minutes prior.”

The family dinners must have been lively. “I assume this was before his imprisonment.”

“Before he fell and awakened as a Calamity, yes,” Laufey confirmed. “But my father was always a cruel god. Imprisonment in Helheim simply made his humor blacker than before. As for his cults, I served one as their muse. A very entertaining time, but it took weeks to wipe the blood off my dress.”

“Get to the point.”

“They hide in plain sight,” Laufey said. “Sometimes, they even sleep for years before awakening when my father needs their sharp knives. They can hide their allegiance from anyone; you never know if your friend is truly your friend with them.”

In short, this confirmed what Tye already knew. Loki cultists couldn’t be trusted.

“When in doubt, offer someone to ‘kiss under the mistletoe’,” the dark elf said with mirth. “That is how these devils identify one another, to honor one of my father’s cruelest jokes.”

“I see.”

“You want me to establish contact with them, darling?” Laufey asked, having guessed what was on his mind.

“Maybe. Or have you infiltrate a cult in Logres.” Their soul pact would prevent a betrayal, but you should never feel overconfident with these people. “Hagen, Morgane, give me your reports.”

“We killed new monsters in the eastern tunnels,” Hagen said. “[Antlions], five of them.”

“Again?” Tye frowned behind his mask, magically summoning a scroll map of the tunnels from his treasury. That was the second incursion in a week. “Where?”

“They were trying to dig from the east and invade Level Two,” the dullahan pointed a finger on the map. “By the time they triggered the traps and alarms, they had dug three galleries. Spook slaughtered them like the last group, but they fought ferociously.”

“[Antlions] never dig in these colder regions by themselves, and this is not a lone creature’s wandering off,” Tye said. “Either the spring attracts these animals somehow, or they are digging on behalf of a higher intelligence.”

“Could be [Druids],” Morgane said. “The forest of Brocéliande above the tunnels is sacred ground for some of them, or so I heard.”

“But why now?” The necromancer shook his head. “The incursions only started after we uncovered Nastrond.”

“I don’t know.” Hagen shrugged. “The tunnels stretch very far, and since we lost many people after the princess’ raid, I’m wary about sending a force to attack the nest. I say we increase the number of traps and wards in the galleries, to better coordinate our defenses.”

Wise. “I will design something to deal with these insects,” Tye replied before whistling.

A female vampire rat immediately hurried to his side, climbed on his robes, and then stopped on his shoulder. The necromancer patted her head as she opened her mind to his own.

Many-Swarm, the name for the [Vampire Rat] hive mind that Tye had designed, had proven itself invaluable as a surveillance system. While Tye’s [Ghost Mirror] had an extended range, he could only survey one place at once, and then needed to relay information to his elites.

The rat swarm, however, shared the senses of each of its members, at least as long as they remained within a certain radius. They could impart information through telepathy, serving as messengers, scouts, and spies.

Only their vampiric weakness to sunlight limited them, but it was a trade-off he could accept. “Show me the battleground,” the necromancer whispered softly.

Crimson pictures of the eastern mines formed in his mind, as Tye watched the world through a rat's eyes.

He peeked at a pile of red insect corpses in a half-dug tunnel. Ants the size of lions—hence their names—[Antlions] had a thick hide, a fanged mouth, and dozens of eyes. Their acidic spit allowed them to melt stone, and their sharp pincers-arms could cut bones like butter. Spook awaited in front of the galleries that they had created, a grim sentry awaiting for any challenger.

“Follow the tunnels,” Tye told the rats. “No matter how far you have to go. Find the nest and report back.”

Dozens of rats immediately rushed into the hole, while Tye ended the telepathic communication and returned to reality.

“Fortify every level,” the necromancer told Hagen. “I want any intruder to bleed for every inch of ground.”

“So we both think the same, chief,” Hagen replied. “They’re scouts for a larger force.”

“Probably,” he said, turning to Morgane. “What about the princess?”

“Dear Gwen is tight-lipped about Logres, just as she was about you,” Morgane said. “However, she has shared with me confidential news you will hate, I’m afraid.”

“Oh well, nothing unusual,” the necromancer deadpanned. “Go ahead.”

“The Academy expects another Convergence to hit Lyonesse within two months.”

This made Tye’s eyes widen, while only Laufey remained strangely serene. “Impossible,” he said.

“Two Convergences can’t happen at the same place three months apart,” Hagen protested. “Ragnarok is at least centuries away.”

“The Academy is perplexed as well,” the vampire infiltrator replied. “Archmage Calvert believes that something in the region attracted the attention of the Calamities, and whatever it is, they want it very badly. I wonder what.”

That confirmed it. The ice giants hadn’t come to Lyonesse by accident.

Fate was at work once again.

“How did they react?” Tye asked.

“Gwen suggested they establish a permanent branch in the city. ‘To better protect citizens against threats old and new,’ she said.” That vile woman, she made the necromancer regret ever crossing her path with every breath she took.

“I assume the Academy accepted?” That would be his luck, and that meant a stronger royal presence in the region.

“Indeed.” Morgane smiled. “And guess who was recommended for the local recruits?”

“I am highly disappointed,” Lady Yseult said from atop her white horse. “I had hoped you would change your mind.”

“As I am,” Annie sulked, although her own mount was considerably less prim and immaculate.

While he had refused to leave the city, Tye had taken the time to bid farewell to Annie and her fellows at the City gates, alongside Percy. The damage the giants had done to the main bridge had been mostly repaired, and Lyonesse will have fully recovered within months.

Princess Gwenhyfar and her fellow students would return to the capital on horseback, at least for a time; and under too heavy of an escort for Tye’s forces to ambush them on the road.

His eyes shifted to Morgane, who would go with them. Since the world believed him dead and there was no more reason to keep the princess alive, he had given her a… lethal task.

“Too much work on my plate,” the shopkeeper replied truthfully. With the spring to study, Tye would only consider leaving the city to meet with Medraut. “I hope that you return soon.”

“Your wish may be fulfilled sooner than you think, Walter,” the princess replied with a thoughtful face.

“Where is your assistant?” Takeru asked Tye suspiciously.

“She returned home for a while. The Convergence was a lot to handle, and she needed a break.”

In truth, he had sent her to Logres as a scout; while Mockingbird had been a reliable ally so far, he would rather hedge his bets.

“Then Percy, you better take care of him in our absence,” Annie told the guardsman.

“Sure!” Percy nodded, his cheeks reddening a bit.

“We will return in two weeks,” Princess Gwenhyfar said. “Afterward, we will probably launch an expedition in Logres, and try to identify what the Death Knight is after.”

Truth to be told, Tye already suspected Medraut’s reasons. He always said the Tomb of the Fianna was hidden somewhere in the region, the necromancer thought. If I had abandoned the great work for revenge, I would try to find it and loot the artifacts there.

“My friend,” Lady Yseult said with concern, “there is something you must know.”

Tye frowned but approached as she lowered her head from the horse to whisper something in his ear.

“There have been murders in a village near Lyonesse,” Lady Yseult whispered. “Sacrificial murders. We suspect a Calamity Cult.”

“Which one?” Tye whispered back, instantly on edge.

“Maybe Jormungandr’s,” she replied, unsure. “Only the city’s churches know, and we hope to settle the matter quietly without causing a panic. But please, promise me that you will be careful.”

Tye wisely said nothing, but pieces assembled in his head.

Of course. If the Calamities wanted the Spring and intended to cause a new Convergence, then they would send their agents to prepare the field. It could explain the [Antlions] making forays in his dungeon.

Maybe cultists had even infiltrated the city already.

They wanted his spring? They could try and get it. He was mere months away from achieving his dream, and none would stand in his way.

They would only find death.