Sitting on a massive throne of stones built from the remains of Hel’s temple in Lyonesse, Walter Tye gave an audience, surrounded by an undead court. A dense fog obscured the sun above, casting the ruined city in an eerie twilight. Hagen remained at his right, while Mockingbird and her fellow assassins awaited for their turn at his left.

A terrified, silent couple of living humans stood before him, the dismembered corpses of their three sons laying on the cold stone before them. They were the thralls of some noble who died fleeing the Convergences, leaving the children behind in the hope of distracting the ravenous ghouls pursuing him.

It failed.

Tye could see the sheer dread on these people’s faces, as a circle of undead eyed them dangerously; the necromancer could even hear their rampant surface thoughts, thanks to his new [Thief of Minds] racial Perk.

Will they eat us? Will they kill us?

“No, they will not,” Walter answered with telepathy, his dead, serpentlike throat unable to form words now. Instead of reassuring the thralls, it only cowed them further, his power beyond them.

For in the eyes of mortals, Tye was no longer a man or even a necromancer. He was a dark god; the kind which parents used tales of to frighten their children at night.

A [Calamity].

Ghouls, skeletons, vampires… all manners of undead had risen with the Convergence, only to be [Enthralled] by Tye’s will once he emerged from the hole linking Lyonesse to Nastrond below. They had claimed the city as their own, as the army that would help him defend his new home from those who would do them harm; they even chased Loki’s fiends from the region, although those monsters would probably haunt the countryside for years.

Nastrond would become a safe undead sanctuary for a new Pale Serpents brotherhood. One that would not fall like the Black Citadel.

Thankfully for them, Tye had no intention to wipe out humanity. Instead, he would save it, and proved it this instant. Carrying his lengthened Apophis staff and channeling the energies in his rings, the necromancer cast a spell while using the [Necromancer’s Stone] as a medium. “[Naglfar].”

One of the children’s corpses was repaired to full condition, breathing once more. His family looked down, both horrified, but hopeful; eventually, the mother abandoned all caution and rushed to her son’s side, as he started regaining consciousness.

Nothing better than a new spell Tier. Tye now wielded spells up to Tier IX, truly joining the ranks of the archmages of the realm.

Two more times, Tye cast the spell, tapping into his rings’ reserves, until he had revived the entire family.

“You are free,” the necromancer declared. “Free from the bondage of men and gods alike. You are no longer thralls, and no longer dead; you will be allowed to stay as citizens of my city, or to leave unharmed to start a new life elsewhere.”

Obviously, they were too frightened to speak up, the parents holding the children in their arms. But he could read the thought on their mind.

At what cost?

“Should you decide to leave, you will spread the word to everyone who will listen,” Tye said. “I will raise the dead for anyone, so long as someone can provide me with a piece of their mortal remains. Even ashes will do, or a tooth. I shall ask for no price, and make no distinction. Whether they are in Valhalla or Helheim, none is beyond my power to return. Death has been abolished.”

His work done, and with hundreds more to raise today, Tye waved his hand. A trio of ghouls brought the family away, to one of the refugee camps on the other side of Lyonesse’s river. Like every creature within twenty miles of Nastrond’s cathedral, the necromancer would be able to track and mind-read them, ensuring they would behave.

In total, Tye had exchanged his five [Ankou] racial levels, for fifteen [Calamity] ones; each new Perk more powerful than the last.

Besides enlightening him to his true nature, these new levels had granted him near-absolute dominion over undeath, heightened spellcasting, greater defenses against deities, immense strength, and control over Nastrond and a vast area beyond its confines. Both cities had become an extension of his will, to the point where he could even block teleportation and summoning within its limits.

Unfortunately, his new form had come with costs of its own. Namely, vulnerability to Earthlanders’ [Sacred Weapons], and the [Sin-Eater] Perk.

‘I can only recover HP and SP by consuming corpses tainted with sin,’ Tye lamented. Although he had found a workaround by using SP and HP storing rings or using the blood of allies as fuel, this was a weakness he could have done without.

“Mockingbird,” Tye spoke, his mental whisper spreading to the assembly. “I shall hear from you next.”

The brigand stepped in front of Tye with tiger-like confidence, carrying a blade around her belt and a black box in her hands. She used a clothed scarf to breathe inside the Helheim fog, clearly aware of its effect on people's health.

“I would prefer something private,” Mockingbird said, although the necromancer read her request in her mind before she spoke.

Tye used his power over the city to extinguish sound around them, preventing anyone but him and Hagen from hearing. “We are.”

“First of all, I love what you have done with the place,” she replied, looking at the ruins. “I can work with this.”

This amused Hagen. “Coins are coins, no matter where they come from?”

“Yes, but I prefer to be paid by the winning side,” the criminal replied. “And with the latest news, you are on the ascendency: King Siegfried died yesterday, some say of illness, others of the grief of losing all his children at once.”

This made Tye pause. “The royal line of Avalon is extinguished?”

“Yes.”

Good. No longer would they impair the Great Work.

“The capital is in chaos, while Jarls have risen but cannot agree on what to do,” Mockingbird said, sounding delighted. As a black marketer, the weaker the law, the more opportunities she had. “Some want to hold an assembly to instate a new king, a few want to crusade against your necropolis, while others want to gain independence from Avalon and carve out their own fiefdoms. Goblins and raiders are amassing near the kingdom’s frontiers, sharks smelling blood in the water.”

“What about Calvert?” Tye asked; with the royal family dead, the wicked archmage was probably the most likely to run a crusade against his new home.

“He hasn’t been seen since Siegfried’s demise,” Mockingbird replied. “It’s displeasing, but even I couldn’t track him down. But this man is shady.”

“You don’t say,” Tye sneered.

“Everyone has a past,” Mockingbird said. “You, me, the Dullahan… no matter how hard we try to cover it up, you can always find something if you look hard enough. But as far as anyone knows, Calvert simply popped up in the royal castle half a century ago, to whisper advice into the king’s ears. Maybe he’s not even from Midgard at all.”

Asclepius may have known, although he had carried the secrets to the grave; the lich also said that his ‘colleague’ hadn’t aged a day since they had met. Had the archmage engineered the purge to bury some knowledge about his true nature?

If so, Tye would unearth them. While he cared nothing about revenge, Calvert had taken a stand against the brotherhood. He was a threat to the Great Work, and so would have to be removed. “Why are you telling me this?” the mighty undead asked Mockingbird.

“I want to know what you intend to do next,” the criminal replied. “Avalon is collapsing, and its corpse will be up for grabs. Do you intend to conquer it? Or will you watch?”

“I have no desire to rule Midgard,” Tye replied, whose truest desire was to be left alone to research in peace. “But I have learned the lesson from my order’s destruction and the repeated attacks on my dungeon. So long as they live, my enemies will never stop trying to destroy me or disrupt my work.”

Hel, in particular, had made clear she would never stop tormenting him; and unlike Princess Gwenhyfar, her lifespan could be counted in centuries, if not eons. If he could not kill her himself, then the necromancer would break her power over Midgard.

“Hel’s church, in particular, cannot be negotiated with, and so, must be destroyed,” Tye declared. With hope, their goddess would follow in time.

“Now that we have power on our side, attacking is the best defense,” Hagen voiced his agreement. “We must strike before our foes can reorganize.”

“I will fortify the region, establish a territory where undead and those who believe in the Great Work can enjoy immortality in peace,” Tye explained his plan. “But once this is done, Hel’s worshipers will know the same terror they subjected me to for years. Their temples will be brought to ground, and undead will hound them to the ends of the earth. Neither will they feel safe in Helheim.”

“You intend to raid the realm of the dead?” Mockingbird asked for confirmation, more surprised than afraid.

“Some of my friends vanished into Helheim during the Convergence.” Duke had fallen through a rift, and Spook’s remains couldn’t be located. Thankfully, the frontier with Helheim was now so thin that the necromancer could open gates to it at will. “My brotherhood and lich mentor also suffered torments there for decades. Since I cannot raise them with [Naglfar], I will recover their souls, personally.”

“About temples, an idea crossed my mind, chief,” Hagen said. “You heard that ghouls set up an altar dedicated to you in Odin’s old temple?”

“I’m aware,” Tye replied, having heard their prayers in whispers. “They leveled up in the [Priest] class.”

“Priests of you, Chief,” Hagen added.

“You can grant spells and empower clerics?” Mockingbird asked. This time, while she hid it well, the necromancer could sense the surprise in the back of her mind.

“Yes, although I do not see the point.” Tye didn’t see himself as a deity and had no desire to run a cult. Religious rituals were a show of vanity from the gods, nothing more. “I do not prevent people from taking levels in these classes, but I do not intend to proselytize either.”

Hagen shrugged, a little disappointed. “I’m just saying, what would be better to break Hel’s grasp on Midgard than replacing her?”

“By your actions, you created a vacuum that others will fill,” Mockingbird agreed. “If not you, then the other Calamities.”

“You imply that I am their allies,” Tye countered in response. Trying to shake off the label was why he didn’t wish to run another bloody cult. “I am not. We share the same enemies, but that does not make us friends.”

“Strange, because Lord Medraut thinks otherwise,” Mockingbird replied, presenting the box, “I received a gift to deliver to your doorstep. An apology, and an invitation to meet at the promised place.”

She opened the container, revealing its ghastly content to the Lord of Nastrond.

The severed head of Loathly the witch, frozen in dread. One of her eyes had been removed, and the ruby she wielded was missing; instead, it had been replaced with a [Phylactery] keeping the hag’s soul trapped.

It appeared that like Tye, Medraut hadn’t taken his subordinate’s double-dealing with Laufey well. This was his means to apologize to the necromancer for the trouble caused.

“Well, I now have a complete set,” the necromancer said, lifting the [Phylactery] with telekinesis to add it to a pouch full of them. With the three hags’ souls in his possession, their native hag magic would be his to wield.

“So Medraut was Lancelot,” Hagen mused. “Was the knight of the lake even real?”

“The [Shadow Fiend] who possessed Morgane heard his last conversation with Gwenhyfar before he slew her.” Tye had felt an infinite amount of relief upon hearing the news. He had even allowed himself to laugh like a child, now free of the princess’ meddling. “Medraut murdered the true Lancelot and took his flesh as a mask to infiltrate the Royal Knights.”

“I heard of this ability,” Mockingbird said. “It is exclusive to the highest echelons of Loki’s cult.”

Tye didn’t need to read her mind to learn what she meant.

Medraut served the Calamities, and if he could safely murder Loki’s priestess, then the time for subtlety had ended.

Now was the time for open war.

It didn’t take a genius to understand Medraut’s motives for his newfound faith. The king had taken his family from him, so he slew his own in return; both legitimate and, if Morgane’s ‘destruction’ was of any indication, illegitimate.

The fact Medraut had referred to King Siegfried as his brother had surprised Tye though. He had heard the rumors, but...

Why did his old friend not come to meet Tye after accomplishing the ghastly deed though? He had left Lyonesse in the middle of the Convergence, taking the corpses of Arthur and Gwenhyfar with him. Whether he intended to raise them as undead or mount their heads on a wall as trophies, the necromancer could only guess.

Maybe Tye was mistaken, but something in the setup bothered him.

“Lord Medraut’s forces took over the Logres region,” Mockingbird said. “They raised an army of cultists, monsters, undead, and followers. I believe he intends to march on the capital and sack it.”

A final act of spite towards the kingdom who abandoned the Pale Serpents. Walter had no love for the city, but he would rather avoid raising all of Medraut’s victims after he was done passing judgment. “I will meet with him soon,” Tye declared. “As for you, Mockingbird… can I trust you to choose the right side?”

“I want immortality,” the brigand said bluntly. “You can offer it to me, and I can’t enjoy my wealth if the world is ending.”

“Wise. You have a future.”

“I still think you should fill the vacuum,” she insisted. “If only to prevent raids on supply routes.”

“Or at least secure the borders, Chief,” Hagen agreed, “I would rather avoid having to fend off goblin raiders and Thrym-worshiping barbarians for the next decades.”

“Alternatively, you could make peace with them, since they have no love for Avalon,” Mockingbird suggested. “You already employ goblins, and the eastern tribes simply want some of their lands back.”

It was refreshing to meet someone with moral flexibility, Tye thought as Mockingbird and Hagen openly bounced off ideas.

And even more pleasant to hold all the cards.

After raising two hundred more people, Tye decided to take a break and walk around the ruined Lyonesse, using a shapeshifting spell to shrink down to his normal, human appearance. He suddenly felt so small inside his old body, although his powers hadn’t diminished.

Even now, scant days after the Convergence, the poisonous mists of Helheim hadn’t dissipated from the streets. While one could see through the fog, it was anathema to the living and shortened their lifespan; or would have, if Tye hadn’t developed the Elixir of Life.

Besides allowing him to cast the first and truly perfect Resurrection spell [Naglfar], Tye’s [Necromancer’s Stone] could produce pounds of synthetic elixir each day; no longer was the alchemist dependant on the spring of life to produce his potion. Immortality for all was finally within grasp.

A pity so few had taken him up on the offer.

Not that Tye could blame Lyonesse’s citizens. Having been brainwashed by centuries of death acceptance, they saw him as the demonic destroyer of their city, and thus treated him with wariness. But the necromancer was optimistic; as proof of his goodwill and the elixir’s effects would spread, more would welcome the gift.

Mockingbird, ever the shrewd mastermind, had suggested people would fear a free gift, but accept a paid treatment… and maybe she had a point. Tye had agreed to a test, exchanging the elixir for gold or service, until the idea of immortality had become accepted in the minds of mortals. Then, the necromancer would make it free.

[Naglfar], meanwhile, had turned out to be the perfect spell. Needing only a physical memento of the dead to cast, it could bring back anyone, even those having died years, maybe centuries ago. The revived person suffered no penalty either. The only limitation was the [Necromancer's Stone], which the spell needed as a magical focus.

As he walked in the street, the undead entity moved towards his shop and looked around the district. Many undead had taken over the houses devastated by the Convergence, mimicking their lost life; skeletons cleaned up the forefront of a store, ghouls played dice at a tavern, a vampire had taken over the library. White rats had occupied the roofs and sewers, and would soon spread through the countryside. It was a dark, undead mockery of a normal city, but Tye liked it better this way.

While Lady Yseult had almost decimated the swarm, as long as one rat survived, it mattered little. The critters had spread like the plague across the city, their numbers increasing at a nightmarish space.

Over time, Tye had realized that his very existence as a [Calamity] spread undeath. Corpses rose spontaneously in the region, and carrion-eaters multiplied at an abnormal rate. Perhaps in time, no one would die in Midgard without spontaneously rising again; that would make his work much easier.

Finally, Walter made his way to his restored shop, opening the door to find a ghostly [Banshee] telekinetically moving potions on shelves.

“Good morning, Master,” Laufey’s ghostly self said, emphasizing the fake servility. “How was your day?”

“Tiring,” the alchemist replied, overseeing the shelves. “Excellent work. Everything is symmetrical.”

“As you wished.”

Truth be told, he very much preferred Laufey as a bound elven ghost than her living self.

As an ironic punishment for her betrayal, Tye had put the demoness in charge of repairing, cleaning, and reorganizing his shop. After having disdained the peaceful life it represented, she would now maintain it. In a few centuries, once the world had fully accepted immortality and moved past the need for gods, maybe Tye would retire there to sell potions again.

“Good, I’m glad that there’s no bad blood between us,” Tye said with a smile.

“And I am so glad that you are so lucky in love,” Laufey replied with the same tone.

The necromancer left her to her work, before moving to his sanctuary above. Although he hadn’t used these apartments since he settled in Lyonesse, with most houses destroyed, he had allowed a few people to settle there.

He found Percy keeping watch over the kitchen’s door, a bow raised. “M-Mr. Tye.” The watchman tensed like a soldier facing a predator upon seeing the Lord of Nastrond.

“I hope you made yourself at home,” Tye said, trying to put him at ease. Unfortunately, Percy's house had been destroyed during the Convergence, but the necromancer was nothing if not a good friend. “My home is small, but I hope it is sufficient.”

“I… it is fine.” The young man glanced away, the necromancer’s presence making him uneasy.

“I apologize for your murder, Percy,” Tye said, which sounded a bit strange when he worded it this way. “Although [Naglfar] does not have any ill-effect, Spook defied my orders.”

“I understand,” Percy said, although he was only half-sincere. “What about Sir Sigurd?”

“I have his soul in a [Phylactery],” Tye admitted. “I will either raise him or send him back to Valhalla if he would rather stay dead. Now that the Great Work is completed, I no longer care about keeping him imprisoned. If you wish to talk to him, I can summon his shade.”

Of course, if he wished to be raised, then Tye would ask the late Sigurd to swear an oath; with lethal consequences should the knight take arms against the undead again.

“I would like it,” Percy replied, somewhat apprehensive, but still courteous. While the [Deathlord] frightened the squire, the fact he had been revived and treated well seemed to assuage him; Percy wanted to see the good in the necromancer, which warmed Tye’s heart.

“But once your old master has made his choice, what will you do?” Tye asked the squire, upon sensing his mental confusion. “I will not prevent you from leaving the city, but you are welcome to stay if you wish. We are going to build a new Lyonesse, and I would like to have you among its citizens.”

The squire didn’t answer. He didn’t know the answer himself.

“Tell Lady Yseult that I would like to invite you both for dinner tomorrow after I met with an old friend,” Tye said, glancing at the closed door. “Alongside Annie.”

“She is inside, praying to Balder,” Percy confirmed. Like the last three days, Lady Yseult had been asking questions to a god who wouldn’t answer. “I give milady food, but she doesn’t take any. But I will tell her.”

Tye sighed. “Percy, that is not an order. If you or Lady Yseult do not want to come, I will not force you.”

The squire didn’t believe him.

Leaving Percy behind, Tye moved to his bedroom next, now occupied by someone. He knocked on the door once, twice, then entered when he heard no answer.

Annie was in his dusty bed, curled up like a wounded, depressed child.

“I hope you are making good use of it,” Tye mused. “I never did.”

She looked up at him, without saying anything. The sight wounded Tye’s heart; to see his cheerful protegee so saddened hit him more than Lady Yseult giving him the cold shoulder. It reminded the necromancer of himself after Fenrir’s children tore his parents to pieces.

“Annie, you are cured, and I made sure your family was evacuated during the collapse,” the necromancer said. “You should be able to contact them with magic, or meet with them.”

“I did,” she finally spoke up. “They fled to my aunt’s lands, and they want me to join them.”

“Then, why haven’t you?” Tye sat on the bed, but the witch pulled back a bit, much to his displeasure. “Annie, it is still me. I haven’t changed.”

“Were you already the necromancer when you…” She bit her lower lip. “When you taught me magic?”

Tye nodded. “I had no hidden agenda, I promise you. You are a bright girl, Annie. You deserved a mentor. We had fun, didn’t we?”

“I don’t think I ever knew who you were, Tye.” She sounded more sad than hurt or angry.

“Would you have accepted me, had I told you that I was an undead?” he asked, rhetorically. “I am your friend, Annie. I always was, and if you allow me, I will always be. My true nature has nothing to do with the affection I feel for you.”

“What about Takeru?” she asked suddenly. “Will you raise him too?”

“Hel physically dragged your living friend to Helheim, probably to use him against me.” It couldn’t be a coincidence that Hel abducted the group’s only Earthlander after Tye developed a vulnerability to them. “I will try to recover him alongside my people.”

“And Gwen? Morgane?”

“Even if someone brought the corpse to me, I would not raise Gwenhyfar,” Tye replied with coldness. “I gave her too many chances to walk away. If she fought so hard to enter Valhalla, then she would remain stranded there. As for Morgane, I sent her to Helheim, so I will recover her alongside your other friend.”

She looked at him strangely, as if trying to puzzle him out.

“I don’t understand you, Tye,” the witch said. “You killed everyone, and then you raised them from the dead. You destroyed the city, but you cured me of Hel’s Breath and now you give free healing to everyone who asks.”

“Is it so hard to believe that life is not black and white?” the necromancer asked his protegee. “I am not the villain of your story, Annie. Neither am I a great evil, as others pretend. All I wish is to create a world without death. Is that so wrong? Do you want to die?”

“No, of course not,” she replied, clearly confused about everything that transpired. “I didn’t want to fight you either.”

“You’re not forced to.”

“But… you are a Calamity, Tye,” she said, a tear in her eye. “You’re a threat to everyone.”

“The prophecies said I would start Ragnarok, and I haven’t.” Maybe this was why he hadn’t maxed out to level 100 like other Calamities. “Truth is, I want to preserve life, not destroy it. Certainly, I have buried a few souls in my quest, but these were just means to an end.”

Although he gave Annie the courtesy of not reading her mind, Tye knew he was getting to her. Annie was a nice, gentle girl; she saw the good he did, and although it clashed with her education, she wanted to remain his friend.

“Why didn’t you rejoin your family, Annie? Why did you stay?”

“I don’t know,” the witch admitted. “I don’t know what I want anymore. The world makes no sense anymore. Dead people can come back, the gods don’t answer prayers, my country is gone, and you are everything the Royal Academy trained me to fight.”

Tye observed her in silence for a long, agonizing minute.

“Annie, I still remember what you told me,” he finally spoke up, “about your teleportation system. You said your tutor thought it too dangerous to try… but what if you studied magic among people willing to take risks? If you learned real magic, spells that will change the world, instead of the god-censored version they teach you at the Academy?”

Annie frowned. “What does this mean?”

“I am one of the last necromancers, and… lonely,” Tye admitted. “While I have great power and longevity, I wish to transmit my knowledge to others, so that it may live on. I was once part of a brotherhood dedicated to pushing the boundaries of science and magic; now that my power is somewhat secure, I intend to revive it. I would like you to be part of the new Pale Serpents.”

“You want an apprentice,” Annie realized, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“If you still have reservations about remaining at my side, I could simply give you my notes before you leave Lyonesse,” Tye offered kindly, “I put down to writing most of my knowledge in case a knight got lucky. I can think of no one but you to inherit this legacy.”

She seemed well and truly flabbergasted by the offer. Perhaps because Annie thought it outlandish to become his apprentice after everything that happened, or because she knew Tye’s notes contained spells worthy of archmage Calvert himself. Even if she decided to walk away, the trove of knowledge he offered was the kind she had joined the Academy to access. The fact the necromancer offered her full access to his research, some of it which could be used against him, was a monumental show of trust, and she knew it.

But Tye guessed what side of her would win before she said the words.

“I…” Annie coughed, trying not to sound too interested. “I wouldn’t mind checking these notes.”

He had always admired her curiosity.