Elijah couldn't move.
His lungs forgot how to breathe. His legs trembled like scaffolding in a storm. The rooftop vanished around him—the graffiti-stained walls, the half-formed skeleton at his feet, the buzzing neon skyline—all of it dissolved into the figure standing at the stairwell's edge.
Selene.
He hadn't seen her in almost nine years.
Back then, they'd been two orphans fighting over stale bread and stolen blankets. She always won. Not because she was stronger—Elijah was lean and scrappy even as a kid—but because she made him want to lose. To let someone else have the victory. To feel warmth in a world that never offered it.
Then she was gone.
Adopted by a couple from Midtown with synthetic smiles and cleaner shoes than souls. She'd left him a note, but it got soaked in the rain and turned to mush before he ever read it. He told himself it didn't matter. But it did.
And now… here she was.
Grown. Awakened. Glowing.
Her aura spread like soft golden mist, luminous and serene, gently brushing the cracked rooftop tiles. It shimmered across her skin, dancing in her eyes—those same sharp, curious eyes, now filled with stunned recognition.
"Elijah," she said again, breathless. "It's really you."
His throat scraped as he swallowed. "Yeah. I, uh… I got taller."
Her laugh was startled and warm, like a sunbeam through storm clouds.
Then she looked past him.
At it.
The skeleton stood completely upright now. Bits of translucent sinew pulsed across its frame like flickers of moonlight. It was still incomplete—missing a jaw, part of a ribcage—but it watched Selene with hollow sockets glowing faint blue. Its limbs twitched like it was… readying.
"Is that yours?" she asked softly.
"I think so."
"You Awakened?"
"I think so."
"Elijah—" She took a slow step forward, the gold in her aura flaring protectively.
"I didn't mean to raise it," he said quickly, hands raised. "I was just messing with some bones and then the sky blinked and then—well, it… got up."
"That's not normal."
"You think?"
The skeleton tilted its head. Its bony fingers flexed once. Then, without warning, it knelt. Right at Elijah's feet.
Selene's hand instinctively reached behind her—Elijah barely caught the motion before something shimmered into existence: a golden blade, curved and ethereal, floating near her palm like a loyal hound.
"Woah, woah!" Elijah stepped between her and the skeleton. "Don't smite it! I just got it working!"
"Necromancy is classified as a Forbidden Archetype," she said sharply. "Even AWC doesn't fully understand how it works."
"Guess I'm ahead of the curve, then."
She gave him a look—half worried, half exasperated.
"Elijah…" Her voice softened. "This isn't a joke. Necromancy doesn't just animate. It binds. Sometimes permanently."
He looked down at the skeleton. It was still kneeling. Waiting. Not hostile. Not yet.
"Maybe it doesn't want to hurt anyone."
"Maybe it doesn't have a choice."
For a moment, the rooftop held its breath.
Then—
A scream.
Not close. But not far either. East. Maybe six blocks.
Elijah and Selene both turned toward the sound.
Another scream followed it—this one wet and cut short.
Then the emergency broadcast tone shrieked from a rooftop speaker nearby, followed by a metallic voice:
"Level 3 Dungeon Rift detected in Necro Zone #3. All civilians report to nearest evacuation dome.
Local guild response time: TBA.
AWC authorization: Neutralize on sight."
"Shit," Selene muttered. "That's right near the shelter."
Elijah's stomach dropped. "Mason's still there."
She was already moving. Down the stairs in a blur of gold and speed.
He hesitated.
The skeleton looked up at him, as if waiting for an order.
He didn't know why he said it. Maybe instinct. Maybe something deeper.
"Follow."
It rose without a word and obeyed.
The streets were chaos.
People ran in every direction. Sirens wailed. Drone lights swept alleys like searchlights. The sky above buzzed with flickers of unstable space—black cracks in the air, seeping violet fog.
The Rift had opened near the old subway.
Selene's spirit blade hovered at her side, its glow widening into a defensive arc. She cut through the crowd like wind, clearing the path.
Elijah sprinted behind her, the skeleton loping at his side like some grotesque pet. People screamed at the sight, but no one stopped them.
Then they saw it.
The Rift.
A jagged spiral of broken air, pulsating like a wound. Shadows crawled from its edges—creatures that didn't belong in this world. Mangled beasts, some part-human, part-insect, all wrong. At least five of them were already feasting on something near the collapsed stairwell.
Selene didn't hesitate.
She charged.
Her blade spun midair, then split into two, each one orbiting her like stars. She moved like light—each strike pure, precise, surgical. Limbs fell. Creatures shrieked.
Elijah reached for Mason, who was sprawled on the ground, his coat soaked in blood.
Still breathing.
Barely.
"Mason!" he shouted, skidding beside him. "Hey, hey, you're good, man. You're good. Stay with me."
Mason blinked weakly. "Voss… you have… a pet skeleton?"
"Shut up and don't die."
Behind him, the skeleton moved. Not fast, not graceful—but determined. It tackled one of the Rift beasts, gripping it by the throat with both bony hands. The creature howled, tearing at it with claws, but the skeleton held on until both fell into a pile of twitching limbs.
Then something huge came out of the Rift.
It didn't walk—it descended. Hovering six feet off the ground. Black robes. No face. Dozens of floating symbols orbiting its form like planets. Its voice didn't echo—it sang.
In a language that made Elijah's teeth itch.
Selene froze.
"What the hell is that?" Elijah whispered.
"An Unknown Class," she breathed. "Those are usually Dungeon Bosses. This… this shouldn't be Level 3."
The robed creature turned its head slowly.
And looked directly at Elijah.
Then it whispered.
"Child of Ash…"
His chest exploded in heat. The glowing in his hand returned—stronger. The skeleton at his side twitched violently.
Selene stepped in front of him. "Stay behind me—"
"No," he said. "I've got this."
"Are you crazy?!"
"Probably."
The skeleton screamed—a sound like bone being scraped over steel. It surged forward without command, rushing the floating entity.
And was obliterated in an instant.
No flash. No explosion.
Just gone.
Elijah gasped.
He felt it. Like a cord cut inside him. Like a breath stolen.
The robed figure hovered forward.
And smiled.
"Your path begins now, Undying One."
Then it vanished.
The Rift collapsed behind it.
Silence returned.
Elijah fell to his knees.
Selene dropped beside him, breath ragged. "What the hell just happened?"
He stared at the empty space where the skeleton had been.
"I think," he said quietly, "that was my Awakening gift saying hello."
They sat together on the curb, blood and smoke thick in the air.
Mason had been taken by med-drones. The rest of the survivors were being escorted to safe zones. The Rift was sealed. But the silence after the storm felt louder than the chaos.
Selene turned to him. "You've got no idea how dangerous necromancy is, do you?"
"I just found out I have it," he muttered. "Give me like… ten minutes."
She smiled. But it didn't reach her eyes.
"Promise me something," she said. "Whatever's happening with you… you don't let it own you."
He looked down at his hands.
Still glowing faintly blue.
"I'll try," he said.
"Good. Because if you start raising armies of the dead, I'm the one who's going to stop you."
He gave her a tired grin. "Deal."
Then her hand found his.
Warm. Steady.
And for the first time in a long time, Elijah Voss felt human.
Even if he didn't know how long that would last.