Book One: Rise of the Demonborn
Chapter 4: Ash and Steel
---
The night air carried smoke.
Kael stood on a hill of broken roots, cloak billowing behind him like black wings. Below, in the valley, flames flickered. A campfire—too structured for beasts. Too careless for mages.
Humans.
Soldiers.
Vaarkos approached from behind, padding silently through the shadows. "Thirteen men. Light armor. Blessed steel. Not afraid."
Kael's expression didn't change.
"They will be," he said.
He descended the slope slowly, boots silent in the wet grass. His undead followed in eerie synchronization—twelve skeletal soldiers armed with rusted blades and cold fire in their eyes.
At the bottom of the hill, the soldiers around the campfire laughed.
"…think the demon's real?"
"Nah. Just another beast story. Probably a rogue mage stirring up fear."
"Still. Captain said keep blades near. No harm in staying sharp."
Too late.
The campfire dimmed suddenly, snuffed by an unnatural gust.
"Who's there?!" barked the lead knight.Kael stepped into view. The firelight touched his face—pale, expressionless, eyes glowing faint red.
"Identify yourself," the knight shouted. "This is sanctioned ground under the Crest of Eldwyn!"
Kael didn't answer.
He simply raised his hand.
The undead charged like shadows unleashed.
Screams erupted as bone clashed with steel. The knights fought back valiantly—but these were not mindless zombies. Kael's necromancy gave them purpose, coordination. They dodged, flanked, parried. Every strike by Kael's undead was a lesson learned in death.
Kael moved slowly through the chaos, untouched.
A knight lunged toward him—Kael flicked his fingers, and black chains burst from the ground, yanking the man downward. The knight screamed as skeletal arms pulled him into the dirt.
The camp fell silent.
Only one man remained—the captain.
Bloodied, breath ragged, sword trembling in his hand.
"W-What are you…" he gasped.
Kael stepped close, staring into his eyes.
"I'm the consequence you buried," he said coldly.
He touched the captain's forehead. Black mist seeped from Kael's palm, curling into the man's eyes, nose, and mouth.
The captain screamed—but not from pain.
From awakening.
His limbs spasmed, armor creaked—and then… stillness.He rose, slowly, and turned toward Kael. The fire in his eyes was no longer human.
Vaarkos watched, tail flicking in approval. "You *bound* him. Not just raised. Clever."
Kael nodded once. The captain had knowledge. Maps. Orders. Patrol routes. Kael had no intention of wasting that.
"I need more," he said. "Soldiers. Power. A message."
He looked to the nearby road—the trade route that led straight to the outpost guarding the valley. A stone watchtower. Twenty men stationed.
Kael turned to his newly risen captain.
"Lead them," he commanded. "Kill all but one."
Vaarkos grinned. "And the one?"
Kael's voice was colder than ice.
"He returns home. Without eyes. Without tongue. Let them learn to fear the silence."