All Ian has ever wanted is to live free. Free from responsibility, from prejudice, and, is it so much to ask, from persecution for being a Necromancer. After becoming the resident Mage for the Night Watch, the... magically challenged Faction in Seattle's warring supernatural underworld, Ian is beginning to believe that he has finally found a place that will accept his 'gift.'
But while undertaking a job for the Kin, thus securing his shaky position, corrupt forces step in to tear him away from his new home. With his Grimoire mentor, Succubus lover, and Flesh Golem protector in tow, Ian sets forth to show his rivals that he is willing to raise bodies from the ground to protect those he cares for. Only when a Lich, a Slayer, and a Siren - oh my! - join a growing group that look to him for guidance, Ian quickly realises that his power puts him in a unique position to make a place for not just himself, but others like him, to live free.
Armed with the knowledge of the depraved acts those in charge are making, Ian knows he must cripple the Factions (no problem) to reveal how deep the corruption goes (little harder), without alienating his own side (no promises).
RR
* * * * *
This is the sequel to the published novel: Path of the Necromancer - ORIGINS.
Feedback is welcome.
Rose and Delgan are hunters working for the kingdom of Lynxfell. The king has assigned them to kill an ancient Lich who has cursed the lands by raising hordes of undead.
Along the way, they come across undead, merchants, Bandit chefs, and more and more problems... Freya was one of those problems...
'What they saw was unexpected. Rose could have sworn that what stood before her was just a lost young girl. But as she stood hovering over her recent kill, Rose couldn't be so naive. The woman breathed in deeply as she tried to compose herself. Rose tried to picture what could have happened just a moment ago. The room was covered in vines and the man that sat on the tall throne, the bandit leader Rose deduced, laid dead. He was covered in blood, but it wasn't like Rose had ever seen before. His blood was dark purple, streams of it flowed down deep cuts all over his arms and face, but that wouldn't even be the worst of it. What was once his throat was now shreds of bloody tissue and muscle. Rose would wonder how the head was still intact if it wasn't for the clear bone sticking out holding it in place. It was a gory sight. His skin had shriveled and turned pale. The only hint of color left was the tint of bright green that oozed out the dark cuts. 'Poisoned'. Rose thought to herself. No, this was no lost little girl...