Eric couldn’t quite hold back the savage grin lighting up his features as he spun around, prepared to dodge more oncoming death being tossed his way only to find, much to his surprise, that both uninjured stone giants were racing away for all they were worth, ignoring the screaming shaman still shooting blasts of lightning from behind his ward and frying a good two dozen of Eric’s revenants with each blast.

“No! You cannot run! You must fight! Kill that damned elf! We are so close to victory and all the food you can eat!” The shaman’s voice grew more desperate. “Berserkers! Fend off these revenants and attend to me!” Then a second later... “One hundred thousand credits to each man that aids in our tactical retreat! To me, men! To me!”

Eric glared at the shaman wasting so many of his men, though Eric did appreciate that the wall of flesh meant Eric himself had some breathing room.

Time enough to retrieve his bloody rune-marked 17-pound ball of death and feel it settle once more in its soul-bound pouch. Twirling for one second...Two… Three.

Giving the command.

Moving as one, Eric’s furiously pounding forces moved away from the warded shaman, blinking in the sudden influx of light, after the absolute swarm of revenants had blocked his view of anything but a wall of revenants.

Desperate frightened eyes latched on to Eric’s own.

“You!” The shaman screamed, jabbing at Eric with a single taloned digit. “You have no idea what you’ve ruined here! The costs you’ve incurred to my tribe! But you will, mortal! Mark my words, when the greater clans hear about this outrage, this insult to our species, your world will be flooded by millions of my kind. Millions!”

The creature forced a twisted yellow-tusked smile. “If you think you can get away with killing me… think again! I’m the last orc Contender in this part of the world! Taking me out would count as genocide! Then you would be punished for daring to slaughter an entire race, innocent immigrants guilty of nothing more than exercising their sworn rights and privileges of colonization. Colonization your own administrators, whom you fools are all subservient to, swore could take place without interference from the native trash that doesn’t have the good sense to just die!”

Eric blinked at those words, stunned by the sheer audacity of the statement.

But not so stunned that he couldn’t give a silent command. “Ready for the charge.”

The shaman’s grin widened, clearly comforted by his own blustering declarations. His eyes glittered wickedly. “You’re best bet, fool, is to fatten my purse and let me and my men go. Then maybe we won’t feel the need to inform our superiors of all your heinous crimes! Not for awhile, at least. Not so long as you keep fattening our purses!”

Eric flashed a cold smile.

His sling became a blur. “I have a better idea.”

“Pincer strike, now!”

The shaman blanched and paled. “No, no, no… men, attack!”

But his men could do nothing. The remaining orcs, now flanked and encircled by over twice their number in revenants that had been following Eric’s silent commands while he allowed his foe a few precious seconds to bluster and bluff, could do nothing but howl and struggle under the press of bodies after they were rammed and sent stumbling into each other from all sides, as if caught in a steel trap snapping shut when the air rang with the fresh screams of the mortally wounded and the crash and thud of lifeless bodies knocking the remaining orcs out of anything like an ordered formation, leaving only hundreds of desperate panicked orcs tripping over the bodies of the wounded and dying with absolutely no room to maneuver… and absolutely nowhere to escape to.

The survivors were now so hemmed in that they could make little use of the axes more than a few still struggled to bring to bear as Eric’s minions, all but immune to desperate punches and fruitless close-quarters knife jabs, took full advantage of their rune-enhanced resilience and twenty plus level differential to coldly butcher the increasingly frantic, squealing, and totally surrounded orcs like the pigs brought to the slaughter that they were.

Eric’s ice-cold smile grew. “I think it’s about that time, don’t you?”

The shaman let loose a piteous shriek, before snarling with a desperate last-second chant.

“Fulmen—“

Words cut off as the shaman’s skull exploded in a shower of crimson gore, the headless body spurting blood from its neck stump as it slowly toppled over and fell to the ground.

You have successfully struck and killed Level 56 Shaman with soul-bound sling!

Sling is now Rank 16!

Dimensional lock has been lifted. You now have full access to your Extradimensional Storage Space! You now have full access to your Ring of Summons!

Curse Bane has been lifted. -10 to all elemental casting penalties to all friendlies territory-wide has been lifted!

Eric shouted with triumph as the awful slippery webbing between himself and all his prizes instantly abated, flashing a fierce grin as he quickly eyed his surroundings, made note of the two fleeing stone giants and the one snarling and roaring as it desperately tried to hobble away.

“No way in hell, buddy. No way in hell.”

Eric then heard a voice he was almost positive was his sisters, a high pitched falcetto cry of triumph, of vindication, as the sky suddenly turned the eerie twilight green that presaged something perhaps beyond even necromancy’s kin.

The howling fury of the grandest of storms.

And Eric could hear it, even as he raced forward with a snarl and roar, feeling such a rush of vindication, of furious satisfaction, as he whipped his white-hot mithril blade through the giant’s arm as it struggled to hobble away… before crashing to the ground with a look of stupefied disbelief on its neanderthal-like features, lashing out with its spurting stump, expression now equal parts fury and terror. For just a single second Eric felt a twinge of regret for what perhaps hadn’t been a necessary kill… but it didn’t stop the short sharp bark from leaving his lips as his high cleaving hew blasted through even this monster’s skull, brains and blood spurting out the massive rent, the giant giving a furious painful howl that choked off in a gurgle as Eric flooded its brain pan with a blast of superheated plasma.

And then Eric was tumbling back, back, as the air filled with the stench of charred fatty meat, the shrieks of countless orcs being savagely butchered without mercy, quarter, or any hope of defending themselves… and the ever growing howl of the massive, howling tornado stretching so wide from even a mile away that Eric could easily imagine it sucking entire city blocks in the blink of an eye.

And for the first time in a very long time, Eric found himself stumbling to his knees, humbled and afraid before nature’s terrible wrath, as the pair of fleeing stone giants were claimed in the blink of an eye. Their screams were instantly drowned out as they were sent whipping through impossibly fast shrieking winds as they were sucked up, up, up the funnel, and somehow Eric just knew they were being ejected high up into the stratosphere, doomed to crash as exploding heaps of flesh and bone in the distant future.

Eric swallowed a suddenly dry throat, gazing at the monstrous shrieking tornado that could so easily wash over they entire keep and the still smoldering town beyond it, that, much to Eric’s relief, stayed precisely where it was.

Which was an incredible relief, because there was no way in hell that he could possibly fight such a thing.

All he could do was run.

Eric shook his head in awed disbelief.

He thought his growing mastery over his undead legions might one day make him a force to be reckoned with.

But this feat of magic shrieking like a thousands banshee wails, his teeth vibrating in pain nearly equal to the awe he felt? This massive mile-wide tornado that could devour an entire city? Absolutely blew him away.

Congratulations! You have eliminated Blackflang Alliance!

You have successfully embraced VENDETTA!

You have eliminated 1 of 4 Alliances you have sworn an Oath of Vendetta against!

Experience earned!

Synergistic bonus in effect! For successfully employing a Forbidden Art / Killing art (Necromancy) to secure the majority of your kills while embracing the art of VENDETTA, you have earned BONUS experience in your FORBIDDEN CLASS! (Cultural exemption in play. forbidden arts used by native resident of contested world. ** Administerial Interference is Forbidden! **)

Master Necromancer is now Level 26! You have earned 1 additional Master Tier perk!

Master Necromancer is now Level 27!

Eric remained on his knees, gazing at the storm for long moments, ignoring the flashing Interface messages of achievements made, levels earned, the final dying screams of the remaining shock troops marking the perfect opportunity to boost his troops eight hundred or more so converts.

All he did was stare at the storm with a mixture of awe, admiration, and sheer exhausted relief.

He only snapped out of his fugue when soft fingertips gently poked his shoulder, Eric spinning around to see none other than his grinning sister that warmed his heart to so. No matter that she looked wan and utterly exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. In truth, she looked no better than she had after her first week in rehab. Not enough time for even her youthful body to snap back from months of poisoning herself, but long enough to be suffering the worst of the sickness, withdrawal, pain, and yes, bitter sharp shame and regret that had taken her so many heart-to-hearts talks and counseling sessions to finally let go of.

Yet now there was no shame or regret today. Just a smile filled with fiercest pride, showcasing a powerful mind capable of incredible feats of sorcery, Eric amazed to see that she had already ascended past a remarkable level 40.

“Way to go, brother. Totally showing me up at my own party!” Elonia flashed a cheeky smile. “I had wanted you to provide a distraction, sure, and thank god for that. But I certainly wasn’t expecting you to single-handedly take out those shamans!” She gave a mocking shake of her head. “Or all those level 20 Spearmen disguised as classless orc musketeers.”

Her eyes twinkled with mirth as Eric continued to stare at her with a dazed grin. His heart swelled with relief and joy to see his sister alive and whole and, if not entirely well, at least she was safe now. Able to grow and heal without being worn down by the constant threat of inevitable death. Safe to claim and develop this tiny corner of the world as she saw fit.

She gave him a playful punch on his shoulder he didn’t even feel.

“All you left me was two giants! After countless hours of forcing my arts to the absolute fucking limit, building up the most complex ritual I ever dared, all while under the weight of a massive ritual curse, pushing myself to the absolute brink of my own destruction, being such a badass that I finally got a System sanctioned boost to my Willpower… and what happens when it all comes together perfectly, and the heavens are singing with the power of my Deathwind?”

Eric flashed a sheepish grin. “I guess I kinda stole the show with that final charge, huh?”

His sister’s laughter was music to his ears. “Oh hell, Eric, you have no idea! The director overseeing the seer-tape we’re making for the next recruitment drive simultaneously wants to murder you, and insists that you allow him to shoot additional scenes so he can make you the star!” Her bemused smile hardened. “Again.”

Her mock seriousness turned to a teasing grin. “Because fucking hell, Eric. You might not be able to act for shit, but you weren’t acting. You were living your part to the hilt, roaring commands to your undead legionnaires, mocking those bastard shaman before you put them out of their misery with what, cannon balls? You actually shot cannon balls out of your sling?” She gave a bemused shake of her head. “And I’d be lying if I didn’t concede that every single elven girl in the palace totally wants to jump your bones after watching you kick orc ass in the auditori-globe for half an hour straight, while I’m just trying to string countless syllables together in the tower.”

She smirked at Eric’s expression. “It was Mother’s last ditch effort to keep up moral, with half my men and women reduced to tears, certain that their deaths were a fucking given, until you’re cresting the hill and charging into nearly two thousand troops, leading the fucking charge like hussars of old. And how the fuck you managed those ridiculous speeds… how the hell your corpse army managed to sprint like a pride of cheetahs...” she shook her head. “Faster than any fucking horse, that’s for sure.”

Eric blinked, gazing at his sister for long moments, feeling the heat creep up his cheeks, which just made Elonia smile. “Seriously? We’re fighting for our lives and she, what, set me up for another propaganda movie?”

His sister gave him an arch look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were totally in on it!” She crossed her arms. “I mean, seriously, Eric. It’s one thing to save the day and your sister’s sorry ass while coming to our rescue in the nick of fucking time. But did you have to do it while wearing nothing but cutoff bluejeans, waving around a fiery sword?” She snorted. “With your flawless features, eyes that could pierce a girl’s soul, or at least the hearts of all the silly gits praying for a miracle as they watched you fight, and those perfect blond locks blowing in the wind when you sprint faster than any racing bike I ever road, you looked like mom had airbrushed you onto the cover of her favorite romance novel!”

Elonia snorted and shook her head. “You, with your chiseled chest and those perfect washboard abs, looking better than I ever did, even when I was all dolled up on my best days after six months of cross-fitness, clean as a whistle. Do I even want to know how that happened?”

Eric swallowed the awkward lump in his throat, sensing the flood of emotions Elonia was keeping tightly bottled up beneath her playful bluster, her eyes twinkling with warmth, sisterly love, and heartfelt gratitude. And still. Eric could sense how close she was to breaking down in uncontrollable sobs.

So he didn’t hesitate to flash her a teasing smile in turn. “Sorry, sis, it’s just genetics. You either got it, or you don’t.”

He laughed at her snort, gathering her in his arms, surprised when she began to sob uncontrollably, shaking in his arms as he gently held her close, stroked her back, and assured her that everything was going to be alright. Soothing words to comfort his clearly shaken sister as the fierce city-killing tornado slowly dissipated to a gentle breeze, ill green eldritch light replaced by the warm glow of the setting sun.

“God, Eric. After all we went through, all we had endured, struggling just to hold our own, to counter every cheap trick those orcs kept pulling at every fucking turn, their backers no longer bothering to hide how badly they were cheating, because the goddamned administrators now can’t be bothered to hide their own contempt for the guidelines they’re supposed to enforce, as they happily sell out the entire fucking human race, for hundreds of millions in bribes!”

“Crimes for which they will answer in blood, I promise you both!” assured none other than their mother, gazing at them both with the fierce pride of a lioness as the golden rays of the setting sun washed over all three of them, Aurelia smiling with satisfaction as she gazed at where the massive city-killing tornado had left behind a vast mile-wide patch of torn and shredded grasslands.

Their mother then turned her gaze towards Eric’s troops, standing ramrod straight, at parade ground readiness, as if awaiting Eric’s slightest command.

“You did well. Both of you.”

She smiled down with approval at a still trembling Elonia. “Your greater ritual will reduce any invading army to rich fertilizer for our crops, now that the orc menace that is the Blackfang Alliance has been wiped from the board, their lands our own, and any further allies of the goblins many territory tiles away.” She nodded in fierce approval. “For all that we have much to be thankful for in terms of your brother’s timely intervention, for which we are all profoundly grateful, we now know that you can pierce even a greater bane with your greatest ritual. A ritual you are now in position to master! So that next time, beloved lastborn, your tornado will rip through our enemies before their fastest chargers get within a mile of our palace!”

Aurelia’s inhuman aura flared with such intensity that Eric felt it like a weight on his soul. Her eyes crackled with such fey power that Elonia was trembling at their mother’s feet.

It was all Eric could do, not to fall to his knees before the most powerful woman this world had ever seen.

His beloved mother, a living legend of Faerie.

The eternal Winter Queen.

He grit his teeth as he shook away the impulse, earning a strangely approving smile from the woman who had birthed him, for all that he still felt the links of love, devotion, and obligation, that he could no more severe than he could expunge the mother’s milk that for two years had nurtured the innocent child he once had been.

“You have grown strong, my son. This pleases me.”

Elonia paled and swallowed as she rose back to her feet, before curtsying low before the coolly smiling Winter Queen. “Yes, Mother. I’ll be assigning a specialization point into that ritual spell as soon as I get to the Training Pods for my level-up.”

Her mother nodded in approval. “Good. Whether you would invest one point… or all the points you would dare. Either way, it is a wise choice. A path to unlimited power.” She tapped her elegantly sculpted chin in thought, ruby red lips curving into a grin as she nodded to herself. “Yes… I think this path will suit you quite well, daughter mine.”

Elonia, who truly did look like a slightly younger version of their mother, quirked her eyebrow politely. “Mother?”

“There is, as of yet, no Queen of Summer on this world. And that, my child, is a role you have proven yourself all but made for, time and time again.” Her smile widened. “I believe you will find it fits your temperament like a fine silken glove, once you finally ascend to Bronze.”

Elonia chuckled throatily. “A feat you yourself admitted took even the best of our race decades to achieve.”

“True,” their mother offhandedly conceded. “But with offspring on an ascending planet as strong and potent as you and your brother, with countless Contenders who will funnel into our territory like fools, thinking us easy pickings after we’ve finally blooded the ritual that will blindside them to oblivion, when we can finally place enchantments that will warn us the moment additional goblins dare to enter our territories, now that the original planted assassins have been purged like a cancerous growth we shall never let return… I suspect that your levels shall increase at a respectable pace, my child. And I have no doubt that you will find countless opportunities to spread your reach. Opportunities that will present themselves before you like offerings at your feet.”

Eric could sense Elonia’s internal wince, guessing that his sister still wasn’t one for ruthless conquest, even if she’d happily embrace the deadliest of rituals to defend the lands her people had already claimed. Of course, she gave no outward tell of her ambivalence, nodding politely at her mother’s words. Because she wasn’t stupid, Eric thought with a grin.

Their mother flashed a satisfied smile. “From there, it will only be a matter of time before you ascend to the golden palace and claim Earth’s throne as the Sylvan Queen of Terra, with the cheers and accolades of billions welcoming you as their savior, once I personally place the Valorium crown upon your brow, and a Master class beyond all others will then become your own.”

Elonia snorted. “Nice fantasy, Mother. Right now, I’ll be happy if mastering that ritual means that my soul won’t fracture any more than it already has. I’ve gone to pieces too many times over too much shit already, these past few years. It’d be nice if I can at least keep my soul intact.”

Eric winced even to hear those words, for all that Elonia passed it off with a quip, their mother nodding in approval.

“Indeed. What matters is that you cast it in the crucible of battle. Taking out those two giants solidified your mastery, the power of their souls flooding into, and sealing the crack, within your own.”

Aurelia then flashed a genuine smile Eric’s way, now nodding with an approval he couldn’t recall ever seeing before. Even after training for hours to give as good a performance as he could in the movies she forced him to be a part of. Even when he strove his best to excel in online courses, or come up with a half a dozen business proposals that coincidentally let him explore opportunities all over the world… and out from under her thumb. Only now, with the blood of thousands staining his soul, did she look at him with the warmth and tenderness he had always craved.

“And there stands your brother, tall and proud, having devised the most exquisite and delicious of strategies, as I had always known he was capable of. With a physique beyond what anyone not thrice his level should possess, a physical beauty forged of a thousand generations pushed to the brink of extinction, where pristine appearance and sublime grace were the most vital requirements for survival. Or... perhaps… a single night wrapped in the furious embrace of an ancient queen of the steppes. One of the first Terrans ever to cross the bridge between worlds and ascend with no patron at all. A girl gifted with the exquisite grace to wield death like a scalpel, shaping and evolving entire species, entire worlds, like few others ever will.”

Eric felt his cheeks blushing furiously at his mother’s too knowing smile.

“But what’s most impressive of all, perhaps, is how well our sweet little Eric has made use of your father’s bloodline. Embracing those delicious System-sanctioned arts permitted only to natives. Arts he has now mastered so well that countless thousands of our former foes now embrace eternal unlife, only to serve him. Their lord and master. Allowing my boy to declare himself a free agent, while simultaneously fielding an army many times the size and power of over half the Contenders not yet cleared from Terra’s map.”

Elonia flashed her brother an arch smile. “Yeah… an army he now stores in his ring, and can summon at will. An army that’s, what, twenty times the number of all the surviving members of the Sylvan Alliance, Mother? Fascinating, how that all worked out.”

“Indeed it is,” his mother conceded while fondly tousling Eric’s hair, just like she used to, what now seemed like a lifetime ago. He frowned down in consternation at his own surprisingly well defined form. Why the hell hadn’t he changed, yet? With how much he now looked like a younger version of one of his favorite actors, the bare chest and bluejeans look would totally work if he used a trident, or could act. But since neither of those things was actually the case... It was definitely mithril time.

His mother then gestured towards the battlefield of churned earth and broken bodies, reeking of gunpowder, offal, and blood, the bodies of the fallen and his upright Sentinels looking almost surreal in the fading light of the setting sun.

“Now, why don’t you show your sister firsthand the true power of your dark arts, my son?”

The star of stage and screen flashed a too-knowing smile. “Before the hour gets any later and you forever lose the opportunity to claim every last one of the Orsinian fools that dared to raise their banners against our own!”

Eric frowned, knowing he was being manipulated, at least to an extent, but refusing to let his pride get in the way of rising every last one of those bastards that had tried to kill his sister into the servitude they so richly deserved.

“Surge, centuria! Imperator imperat tibi!”

Eric couldn’t quite hold back the jubilant smile gracing his lips as he shuddered with the sweet, sweet power of 657 additional souls struggling futilely against his clenched fist, even if the battle was a mental one... before submitting seconds later, their desperate wails powerless before his dark necromantic might. All of them forced to submit, their spirits crashing to the ground in subservience even as their bodies began to tremble and shake as the battlefield began to drain of blood and offal as hundreds more revenants stumbled to their feet and saluted… now bound to serve him for all time.

All of them slamming fists to armored chests, belting out the phrase: “Ave Imperator Abedimus!”

Eric chuckled aloud, a fierce exultant grin upon his features. “Damn right, you do! Til the last days, peeps! Two thousand more of you to join my cause, and all of you a juicy base level 20 or higher classers!”

His cheerful grin only faltered when he saw the look of alarm on his sister’s features, gazing at Eric with something that wasn’t quite horror, but more… dismay.

“Eric, those things… the insides were…” His twin shook her head. “The intestines, and all those squishy organs were slurped right back into their bodies like sipping bloody broth through a straw!”

A faint greenish cast came over Elonia’s features as their mother tutted and soothed her back.

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Eric winced, a sour note to the otherwise sweet rush of exhilaration he felt with the glorious fusion of creation and absolute dominance that was the necromancer’s forte, cajoling, compelling, and then binding the souls of the fallen to the vessels they would wear once more. All mortal oaths, obligations, and loyalties forgotten, now bound to his service for all time.

“Sorry, sis. I didn’t think.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I should have remembered. You never were one for horror movies.”

“And neither were you,” Elonia quipped with a teasing smile.

“True,” he conceded. “But it’s completely different when the city’s worth of wide-eyed lurching zombies are suddenly obeying your every command.”

Elonia tilted her head, gazing at him curiously, her earlier disgust apparently forgotten, Eric’s own revenants thankfully having stopped slurping and squelching their organs back into place, bones no longer crackling and twisting as they snapped back into pristine wholeness.

His soldiers were now perfectly quiet, over 2000 in total, now standing at perfect attention.

Eric grinned and glanced down at the prize on his finger, a serpentine silver ring with what were now 27 intertwined coils that he could finally feel resonating with his soul once more, the shaman’s dark curses well and truly shattered with their deaths. He had but to concentrate for a moment to once more sense his connection to another 13,531 sentinels awaiting his command, including 40 Suidae cavalry, and a massive abomination with giant-sized toothpaste-commercial teeth, and way too many tongues and eyeballs.

He sighed sadly, thinking of his fallen 7 tuskers, bodies now safely stored in his ES Space, hoping that one day he might learn how to bring back revenants fallen in battle. Of course, there might be a perk for it, but at some point he had to ease back from power’s crutch and actually master technique. And that held true for Necromancy, as well as so many other half-learned gifts he had somehow cobbled together into a workable whole. Besides, like any tactical gamer worth his salt, he hated the thought of sacrificing a priceless perk that could enhance his entire force in so many ways, just to skirt out of a few lessons that equated to no more than grinding sessions in any game.

So too, he now had four greater level 50+ shamans and the bodies of two stone giants, and he’d love to see if there were necromantic rituals he could learn that would allow him to transform their bodies into something a bit more potent than his standard revenant, as mighty as his base troops certainly were. All he needed was a teacher he could trust, and the time to actually learn. Experimentation was also a possibility, but with so few tusker and Level 50+ bodies available, he didn’t want to waste a single one.

“Could you?” his sister finally asked.

Eric blinked, turning away from the troops he was once more admiring. “Could I what?”

“Actually take control of wild zombies?”

Eric frowned in thought. “Good question. My… mentor, he actually showed me the basics of how to dominate the will of another’s revenant and, well, there is a trick to it. But I can only take them over, one at a time. I think.” He shrugged. “Or at least, that’s as much as I’ve learned, outside of intuition and class perks.”

Elonia blinked. “Eric, you just finished claiming the last of the Bloodfang Alliance as soldiers in your army! You now have another two thousand troops at your command. Troops that had been doing everything they could to break into my final sanctuary and kill me, less than half an hour ago...”

She shook her head in awe, voice dwindling to a whisper. “And now they’re all swearing eternal allegiance to you.”

Eric shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, but I raised all these guys from recently fallen corpses. Corpses I had a hand in killing, either directly or indirectly. And you might not be able to see it, but trust me, right now there is an incredible vortex of life and death energies swirling around this battlefield, kind of like your super incredible kick-ass tornado. And just a couple of minutes ago, there were thousands of, well, empty shells. Empty shells it wasn’t too hard to coax all the thousands of swirling spirits back in to. Spirits so fleshly cleaved of life that they’re still on the material plane, trapped in the storm that Mother correctly deduced would last until the final glimmering rays of the setting sun slipped free of the battlefield. And even if I had to prove my dominance, every single one, save for maybe five corpses that crumbled to dust, were more than eager to return to the bodies they had worn in life, after submitting to me. For them it was like putting on a comfortable suit of clothes, even if doing so means that they’re now tied to me for eternity.”

Eric rubbed his chin thoughtfully while peering at his troops. “It’s a hell of a lot different when you’re trying to take control of already animated bodies you didn’t kill. But it is possible. I’ve done it myself. But only one revenant at a time. And...oh yes, it definitely helps if Dominion is both one of your Essences, and a Sigil of power you can scribe at will. And yeah. Having multiple overlapping Dominion perks in key necromantic skills doesn’t hurt either.”

Elonia gazed at him for long moments. “Let me guess. You have just that type of essence, and runic magic as well. And multiple necromancy skills you actually pushed up to Journeyman rank. Of course you do.”

“And I can cultivate,” he said with a smirk. “But sure as shit, I’m no genius at that. It was only because of...” he glanced his mother’s way, his cheeks heating up at her too-knowing smile. “Anyway, I had one of those, ahem… let’s just call it fortuitous encounters, so now I have a path forward as a cultivator. Sort of.”

Elonia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite hide her burning curiosity. “No shit. What’s this cultivation path? Do you focus on your breathing? Channel clouds of spiritual energy? Channel regular mana like any elf might, but you’re just using it a different way? Or does it involve a specific element?” She furrowed her brow. “So many different cultivation and isekai novels out there, with so many different cultivation paths and magic systems. It leaves you with all sorts of interesting possibilities, but no real clear answers.”

She winced under her mother’s pointed stare. “Not that I needed any of that, with the absolute most perfect arcane path best suited for my proclivities curated just for me, ha ha.”

“Quite,” her mother said with a smirk. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Dinner will be in two hours, and I expect you both to be there on time, and on your best behavior.”

She cracked a smile at a blushing Eric’s mostly undressed state. “And though the rugged bluejeans look will work wonders for the magi-vid, your dark slacks and a ruffled white shirt would look absolutely splendid with your… enhanced physique.”

Eric gazed at his smiling mother for long moments. “Free agent, remember?”

“Of course you are, dear. Now do remember to shave off that stubble before dinner. Thin as it is with your fey blood, first impressions are very important. Especially with people you haven’t seen since, well, the day you were born.”

Heart hammering, he could barely hear his sister’s gasp as the blood roared in his ears.

“You’re not serious… are you?”

Aurelia gazed at him for long moments, no longer playing the role of gently bemused mother, or the famous actress whose legendary beauty was surpassed only by her business acumen and eye for talent, looking just as flush with vitality and youth in her forties as she had in her twenties, stealing countless parts that should have gone to women decades her junior, the envy of absolutely everyone, and the idol of millions.

No. What was causing Eric to shiver in his bare feet, feeling all his pride, banal accomplishments, and bloated sense of worth drift away like blossoms wilting under an arctic glare, was a creature of nightmare and legend. An ancient faerie queen who expected nothing less than absolute obedience from all those sworn to her service. And who, or what, could be more tightly bound than a child she had given birth to? Given sustenance and life to? A vessel of her own flesh and blood.

For an endless awful moment, Eric felt himself drowning in those terrible truths, berating himself for having been an absolute fool. Stupid, so stupid! To take his ease. To have done anything other than flee for all he was worth the instant he had heard her cheerful praise of his triumph, lifting the yolk of siege from her shoulders. Because at that moment, her dire need for his services, his mask of independence, was finally at an end.

How dare he be so foolish as to stick around and trade quips with his sister? As if he had earned even a single moment’s ease. Because if a single night’s merriment would bind a hapless mortal to a faerie court for eternity, how much deeper still were the ties of blood binding Eric to the Winter Queen herself?

Kneel.

His mother didn’t even have to say the word. Eric crashed to his knees. His submission as hard-coded into the fundaments of reality as physics, time, and the forces and fields that made up absolutely everything.

His place in the cycle of things was but an echo of the seasons themselves.

He was her son. Her get. And he had had a good run. Autumn’s child always did. He had enjoyed many sweet halcyon days, like a boy playing with his toy soldiers like endless piles of fallen leaves. But even the warmest days of his season must heed nature’s call and know its place, eventually submitting to Winter’s sublime, eternal grace.

It wasn’t that he was kneeling, trembling before an ancient queen of faerie. He was simply bowing under the weight of winter’s gifts, crowned in winter white, the rustling leaves of headstrong rebellion long since wilted and fallen, soon to become mulch and forest loam to strengthen fresh new budding shoots of future generations of endless lush green forests. Countless generations of beautiful offspring that would spring forth from the efforts of their ancestors, eager to eternally serve their winter queen.