There wasn’t a welcoming committee for them. That was the most obvious sign something was terribly wrong. The teleport area had at least been kept clear, though that could have been sheer luck.

The second sign something was wrong came as they were still recovering from teleport nausea (it turned out arachni couldn’t throw up but they could accidentally discharge webbing). A lance of vermilion light shot high into the air and the distant sound of an explosion tore through the (suddenly) evening stillness.

Noone so much as hesitated, from groggy to a dead sprint in less than a second. Lana and Natalya moved at supernatural speed, demonic power and a mastery of healing respectively allowing them to transcend the normal limits of living flesh.

Erebus left them both in the dirt, little more than a fading afterimage as he pulled out all the stops. He couldn’t slow or speed up time on Reath, and, without time enough to steer or take in what he was seeing, high speed would likely smear him against the buildings. So he went up.

True flight was an incredibly taxing spell, because it wasn’t strictly speaking one spell. Air resistance had to be minimised with an aerodynamic shield, that also protected the eyes. Gravity had to be overcome and an impetus in the direction desired provided. And that was the simplest flight.

The necromancer didn’t bother with a flight spell, simply flinging himself into the air with telekinesis (a difficult application of the art given that the caster was usually the fulcrum and not the object but possible). After that it was a simple matter of keeping his arms and legs streamlined and keeping the insects and wind out of his eyes. That and hoping he’d judged the arc properly.

From his position in the sky he could see that Valda had not had an easy time of it in his absence, several buildings had been collapsed, and he recognized that sideways slouch the roofs had fallen into as a clear sign someone had been thrown clear through the walls.

Mills’ office had apparently been slagged and the infirmary was almost entirely obscured by thorned vines. Frankly only The Melodious Duck seemed unscathed, though someone had apparently taken the time to inexpertly draw a moustache on the sign’s venerable if irritable mallard.

In the square he could make out the people fighting. Or not people as the case may be. Two companies worth of skeletons were still up and fighting, with he knew not how many already broken upon the cobbles.

Alice was laying about with a heavy staff, the grizzled and wispy haired soldier moved slowly but deliberately. Every movement a beauty of economy and a symphony of fresh agony for the shapeshifter, but she didn’t stop for even a moment. Each strike broke bones, sent blades falling to the floor or shattered skulls.

Amara seemed tired, exhausted even. The finest pyromancer he’d ever met wasn’t using fire anymore, simply battering the skeletons into powder with a mace. She didn’t even seem to be using her more than mortal strength either.

What really surprised him was Alec, the teenager was a veritable dervish, inexpert perhaps but indefatigable for all that he was drenched in his own sweat, a near manic snarl on his face as his spatha cleaved down through a ribcage, half handing the blade to pivot it into place to stop the skeleton’s retaliatory strike and removing an arm as he withdrew. Erebus nearly intervened as another undead trooper snuck up on Alec from behind, blade poised to pierce his student’s back.

He needn’t have worried. A thick root burst from the cobbles to wrap around the skeleton’s swordarm, letting his apprentice cut down that monster as well. Wherever Holly was she had to be drinking mana potions like they were water.

From his position in the sky Erebus could easily see the shape of this battle. Textbook modern Necropolis tactics when dealing with a dangerous mage or demon. Deploy the nearest garrison and tire them out with an endless tide of ossified soldiers, exhausting the enemy by keeping them from sleep, the skeletons by their very existence taking mana from the air so that magicka began to run dry, then, when fatigued had set in teleporting in a circle of liches to finish the job.

That was a good thing for his beleaguered friends for two reasons. If the Necropolis was doing it like this then it was a unilateral attack rather than a Council sponsored combined arms effort, but more importantly these were undead, and Erebus was a necromancer.

The battle stopped the moment he landed in the square, a single spell ensnaring the skeletons and cutting them off from the distant puppetry of their Necropolis overlords.

It wasn’t quite the blinding error it seemed on the Necropolis’ part, to stop him they’d have had to place a living or unliving mage on the field itself. More than anyone except the Sanitatem Institute, the Necropolis knew the value of a life, and if he had been a part of the battle from the start it would have been just getting someone killed. Better to just use mindless skeletons.

With a murmured instruction the skeletons all began to fall back, two more falling to Alec’s blade before he realized that the battle was over.

“Is everyone alright?” was Erebus’ first question, for all that the answer was an obvious no.

“I’m fine.” Alice managed, the pained hiss of the words betraying her.

“You’re not healing.” The necromancer observed quietly.

“I. Am. Fine.” His friend declared, enunciating each with the finality of a judge.

“You’ve been stabbed. At least twice.” Erebus pressed, crossing over to try and get a better look at the wounds.

“I will live Ere.” She snarled as she pushed him away, “Look to Amara, she’s practically bloodcrazy.”

Sure enough a single glance was all Erebus needed to confirm it, his vampire friend was hunched and catlike on the floor, her pupils little more than pinpricks as tension ran across her body from the sheer effort of not just jumping on him or Alec to feast.

“Amara?” He asked gently, speaking as one would to a frightened animal, “I’m going to approach you.”

There was no response from the vampire beyond perhaps her fingers digging even further into the dirt, a closer inspection revealed she was crying from sheer frustration as she fought to hold herself together.

Calmly Erebus walked over to her, offering her his wrist, which Amara took wordlessly, biting down as she finally sated the maddening hunger, the necromancer careful to make sure she didn’t take more than the pint or so needed to turn genuine starvation to merely ravenous, though he had to all but rip his arm from her grasp to do so.

“A hard few days I take it.” Erebus noted, trying not to laugh as Lana and Natalya burst into the square, weapons raised only to find the battle already over.

It was Alice who answered, and it looked like just speaking was an effort for the exhausted shapeshifter, “A First Response team found us. Ilvere’s in the infirmary, she’s been stabbed through the gut. If the scum that did it hadn’t enjoyed watching people bleed out she’d be dead. We had twenty-four hours of peace then the Necropolis descended. My guess is they summoned the soul of the team’s necromancer to get our location.”

“That seems a reasonable conclusion. Thank the Martyr the Necropolis likes to handle things in house.” Erebus shook his head regretfully.

“How so?” Alice inquired, bemused at the observation.

“If they’d done what they should have, shared the information with the Council then you’d have been facing heavyweight mages from a dozen disciplines teleported in with the fodder rather than just classic Necropolis attrition.”

The shapeshifter gave that a moment to sink in before laughing, “Good point. Thank the Martyr for necromantic arrogance.”

“How’s Alec holding up?” He asked more quietly, watching as Natalya also donated Amara a pint of crimson life.

“Badly.” Alice shook her head, “Hellfire and damnation that doesn’t do it justice. Kid’s all business when holding a sword, soon as the battle’s over he goes to pieces and- Crap he’s gone already.”

With an infuriated growl and grumble she began hobbling towards where she knew Alec would be, using her quarterstaff for support whilst continuing to get Erebus up to speed as they walked, “He killed one of the First Response team, it wasn’t what I’d wish on anyone for a first kill either. One of Sato’s phials turned the guy into a puddle, armour and all. Normally I’d have made him stay out of the fighting after that but…” She gestured to the near countless shattered bones that now littered Valda.

“But you were being overrun and didn’t have any able bodied people to spare.” Erebus sighed, “Yeah, I’ve been under that hammer. It sucks.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier to cope with. Still…” Alice reached into a pocket and handed Erebus a handful of coins, “whoever trained him to use a blade, buy them a beer with that.”

“I will.” The necromancer promised, shaking his head in bemusement. “What’s he doing to cope?” He fretted, there were many vices a despairing teenager could discover, none of which he’d wish for Alec, a feeling that only got worse as The Melodious Duck came into view.

“At first we were worried he was getting drunk after each battle.” The shapeshifter grumbled, hurrying to get ahead so she could hold the door for Erebus, knowing it would annoy him and that brief amusement made the pain of the exertion more than worth it. “But apparently he’s found the joys of gambling.”

The necromancer winced, stepping into the tavern to see Alec in the process of sitting down with the three people still playing cards there, each of them furnished with a rather foamy mug of beer – a skilled bartender the teenager was not – which had presumably acted as his buy-in.

Erebus’ first instinct was to step in and stop this but he wouldn’t have been a necromancer if he didn’t first stop to listen, enhancing his hearing with magic. Going from Alice’s own slightly constipated expression she was doing something similar.

“I still maintain this is a bad idea.” The old man grumbled, “We shouldn’t be letting him play.”

“And I told you I’ll cover his bets.” The young woman replied, her robe returned to her by a grateful Alec.

“That’s if he loses.” The last of the three said, a beautiful lady in a sea-green dress, “What if he wins?”

“Then he wins.” The young woman answered simply, “If you’ve got a problem with that then perhaps we should play for lower stakes? And I’ll call.”

“Where’s the fun in that.” The beautiful one complained, “I’ll call.”

“Also call.” The old man decided after a moment of thought, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re trying to rig the game sis.”

There was no response to that as a card was revealed to the table, everyone considering their options. “I’ll… raise?” Alec suggested, sounding unsure and uncertain as he added a couple of round tokens to the pile. They were of a strange material he didn’t know, and despite the four different distinct appearances they didn’t seem to have any difference in denomination.

The tokens the robed woman had given him had been a gorgeous grass green with a picture of the sun on them whilst her own had been a deep and dusty grey. The old man’s tokens were rough and a deep orange, whatever picture had been on them had faded long ago whilst the lady in the dress’ were a perfect emerald green.

“Call.” The robed woman answered Alec before turning to her much older brother, “More trying to unrig it.” She glanced at the door where Erebus waited and watched, “I think this is going to have to be our last hand.”

“I don’t like it.” The old man grumbled, stroking his frankly ridiculous beard thoughtfully, “This game doesn’t favour us.”

“Just be glad we finally got her to stop playing chess.” The third one sniped, “And I fold.”

“I don’t like it.” He repeated, “You might be fine making everything into a game of chance but you and I both know you can’t win those forever. I fold.”

“Time for you to show us your cards Alec.” The young woman said in a rather motherly fashion.

Alec did so, revealing two aces to match the two already face up on the table to a laugh from the young woman.

“Looks like you take the pot.” She said, getting up from the table without even revealing her cards as Alec stared at the chips with surprise.

“What do I do with them?” The teenager asked bemusedly as he scooped up his winnings.

“Oh just hold onto them for now.” She chuckled, “Now I’m afraid we have to go to work.”

The old man sighed, “Do we have to?”

“We’ve dallied and delayed enough old sport.” As she headed for the door she offered Erebus her hand to shake, which he did with a confused expression. “Good luck young necromancer. I’m a huge fan of your work.”

With that she was gone, the other two shuffling past without a word.

“Who was that?” Alice asked whilst Erebus stared at their retreating backs.

It took the necromancer a short while to answer, “I have absolutely no idea.”

Seeking insight he crossed the room to pick up one of Alec’s poker chips, examining it carefully. There wasn’t even a hint of magic on them, nor chaos, divinity or any other esoteric energy he could detect or put a name to.

“Plastic.” He mused aloud, “They’re just plastic.”

“What the devil is plastic?” Alice asked, staring back at him with a foam’stache where she’d apparently decided to finish one of the strangers’ drinks, not out of any investigative impetus or instinct but just because she’d been thirsty.

“It’s an alchemical product. Very inert, so it’s used to store a lot of volatile chemicals and alchemicals. I’ve never even heard of someone using it to make gaming chips.”

“Is it valuable?” Alice asked, looking at Alec’s pile of chips with more curiosity than avarice. The time for hoarding wealth in her life had come and gone long ago.

“Well it’s rarer than even adamantine but once it’s set like this you can’t really work it, and its uses are so specialised that most alchemy labs just choose to make their own so… not really no.” A perplexed Erebus explained as he considered the chip for a moment later before tossing it back to Alec.

“A mystery for another time?” The old shapeshifter suggested.

“A mystery for another time.” Erebus concurred, turning his attention to Alec, “I heard about what happened.”

“Which part?” The teenager snapped bitterly, “The bit where I betrayed Holly, the bit where I handed myself over as a hostage like an idiot or the part where I killed a man who didn’t want to fight me?”

“The part where you were brave enough to risk your life to protect others.” Erebus informed him kindly, moving to rest a hand on Alec’s shoulder. To his dismay the teen shrugged it off, stepping back and away. “I don’t know all the details but I’m going to guess Holly’s still holding it against you?”

“…no.” His protégé admitted, the admission alone made him seem to shrink a little. Once Holly had calmed down after the initial battle she’d been all too understanding.

“But you want her to.” Erebus concluded, “If she’s choosing not to hold a grudge then perhaps that should tell you something.”

“It says she’s too kind for her own good.” Alec all but spat.

“That doesn’t sound like Holly to me.” The necromancer grinned, “She’s many things. Intelligent, witty, headstrong, brave even, but she’s also spiteful, angry at the world and every bit as thorny as the tree that spawned her. If she’s choosing to let this go then that means you should too.”

The teenager thought about that then shook his head, “I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?” Erebus asked, beckoning the boy to a chair as he sat down opposite him.

On the surface of it this was a terrible waste of his time, there were a thousand things he should be doing right now. He should be briefing everyone on what happened in the deeps, checking on Ilvere in the infirmary, declaring open rebellion on the Necropolis, and those were just the immediate things.

This was the most unimportant thing in the world right now, but the problem was it always would be. There was always another crisis, another horror to be send back into the shadows, and there would never be time to deal with the traumatized teen until that trauma had devoured him entirely. So he made the time.

There was no guarantees he’d be able to help Alec, he’d seen so many people who’d simply been broken by killing, even worse he’d seen people who’d enjoyed it, and thank all the gods that yet lived that the boy wasn’t one of them. Nonetheless he had to try.

For several minutes Alec didn’t speak, Erebus waiting patiently in silence until at last the boy said, “Because killing is wrong. I took something from someone that can never be given back, isn’t it right I should feel awful for that?”

It was Erebus’ turn to think, considering his words as carefully as any ritual or rite, “I could fob you off with platitudes right now, tell you that it was you or him. That I’d have done the same, and I would have. You’re right, you should feel awful, and I fear the day I stop hating killing.”

Alec frowned, as pep talks went this wasn’t one. “Then what should I-“

“Uh uh… stop that. First you’re going to tell me what happened, from the beginning. I’ve been told Alice’s version, lets hear yours.”

Alec did, the words hesitant at first then flowing freely as he let it all out in a desperate flood whilst the necromancer just nodded and occasionally prompted him with a question. The teenager didn’t know at what point he’d started crying but when at least he ran out of words he found his cheeks wet and his shirt damp.

Erebus steepled his fingers as he thought through his words.

“The way I see it,” He began with a paternal smile, “you didn’t go in there seeking glory, you didn’t go in there seeking to kill, you went in there to protect people, and, although you certainly made some mistakes, protect them you did. Noone ever gets it perfectly right Alec, to err is human and forgivable. Your motive was pure, you didn’t do it out of hate or anger, or any other horror I could name. Killing is a terrible thing. It always will be, but you did it for the best reasons imaginable and sometimes we just have to be content with that. Does that help?”

“Some.” Alec nodded whilst dabbing at his eyes. “So what should I do now?”

“Get some sleep, you’ve been up for what? A day? Day and a half?” Erebus all but ordered as he rose from his chair. “Just uh… wait long enough for Holly to drop the armour of thorns she’s put up around the infirmary, I need to see to Ilvere next.”

“She’s already done it.” The teenager told him, moving over to a bench with a reasonably comfortable cushion to curl up. Whatever had been driving him had evidently run its course.

Erebus smiled then went to seek out Ilvere, bursting into the infirmary to already find Natalya stood over the rookie Guardian, bright green sparks spilling from her hands onto the bandaged wound. Holly already asleep on one of the beds.

“Next time we split up we leave a healer with each group.” Nat told him sharply, not looking up from her work as she carefully fixed the wounds, killing off the infection that had begun to take hold then starting to close the cut itself.

Erebus watched her do it, there was a level of artistry to this kind of healing. Panaceas were massively crude and inefficient, few healers even could cast them but this kind of healing was far more skillful, requiring an intricate understand of the human form and the thousands of threats it could face. It was why necromancy and healing often went hand in hand and he’d seen few who could mix and match the two as well as Natalya, especially in those areas where it had to go together.

Wounds on the soul required a necrohealer and were so rare one might go their whole career without seeing even one. As he understood it Natalya was currently the only expert alive on the continent, the other having been mauled to death by a ragos demon when he’d tried to triage before the area had been fully cleared.

It hadn’t entirely been the healer’s fault, rage demons were renowned for… well rage, attacking the first target they saw but they’d been unfortunate enough to meet one that had a shred of patience.

As to her pronouncement, Erebus merely nodded, “If we can.” He assured her, stepping up to the bed, “How are you feeling Ilvere?”

“Like I got stabbed in the gut by a sadist, why do you ask?” The geomancer replied cheerily, wincing as her laughter made her belly convulse.

“I think that’s because you got stabbed in the gut by a sadist.” Erebus teased back, “Congratulations by the way.”

Ilvere tried to glare but it wouldn’t stick, “What am I being congratulated for?”

“You took a mortal wound in the line of duty. If you chose to you could retire right now, admittedly I doubt the paperwork would be easy given current circumstances but at minimum you’ve got a medal coming your way.” He explained.

This time she managed a proper glare, “Stop making me laugh. It hurts too much.”

“Very well. But once you’re both done here please meet me in the Duck so I can lay out our next steps.” Erebus told them with some relief as he continued down his mental checklist. Now he just had to check in with Amara and Weaver.

*

Fortunately he found the pair together and before night had fully fallen, Amara had chosen to distance herself from everyone, still massively hungry despite having fed from two mages, and, as the only one of them who wasn’t appetizing in the slightest, Weaver of New Tales had stuck with her.

The two were stood over Sato’s grave, working together to create a fresh headstone for Susan. Or at least trying to, it wasn’t going well. Neither had ever worked with geomancy or telekinesis and thus stone was in very short supply, so they’d tried to make their own.

It wasn’t going well. Weaver had managed to weave a passable kiln out of the local shadows, as only an arachni umbramancer could, to keep heat in whilst Amara merrily poured fire into it to melt the heap of soil they’d filled it with.

So far all they’d achieved was a type of impure glass and a bad smell.

As Erebus approached he hit the kiln with an entropy spell. It resisted better than most magical constructs, instead of unravelling entirely it opened a hole in the side from which a semi-molten slurry began to ooze before the necromancer’s second strike finished off the kiln. An air spell then dealt with the smell as he stared at them both with something at least akin to amusement.

“We were working with that.” Amara complained, looking a lot less shrivelled and pale than he’d last seen her, if not quite back to her usual rich ebony.

“I know. I could smell it before I could see it.” The necromancer grumbled, “I thought vampires had enhanced senses?”

“We do.” Amara replied quickly before admitting, “I was choosing not to breathe.”

“We’ll get a proper headstone for Susan ‘Mar. Ilvere’s just about healed.” Erebus promised, a reassuring hand upon his friend’s shoulder.

For once the necromancer found himself at a loss for words. There was so much he wanted to say, that Susan had been a hero, that she’d died well, that the creature that had killed her had been sent fleeing from this world, but it wasn’t the time for it. It would do nothing to dull the sense of loss that gnawed at them both, so he said nothing and the silence gnawed at him too.

“Weaver says you let the thing that killed her escape.” Amara growled, her tone even more accusatory than her words, as imperious as any strigoi or vampire lord.

“I didn’t quite put it that way.” The arachni trembled under the vampire’s ire.

“I did.” Erebus admitted, sitting down on the grass to stare back at Valda, as if ignoring Amara would make her go away or just too ashamed to look at her.

“Why?” There was no threat in it, just confusion and a rawness that he had hope never to see again. The mere idea he would let a foe escape, let a friend’s killer survive, was anathema to her.

It was, Erebus mused, his own fault. He’d been too good at living a lie, but there were no lies forthcoming now to sooth Amara’s pain, and besides his friends deserved better than that.

“I couldn’t kill it.” He confessed wretchedly, “It may even be beyond my power to kill.”

“I didn’t think there was anything on Reath you couldn’t kill if you put your mind to it.” The vampire noted, shock written in her scrunched forehead, wide eyes and drawn lips.

“That’s because I’m very good at making months of planning look like off the cuff responses.” Erebus told her, unburdening secrets decades old; one monster to another. “Even as cloistered as you’ve been, you’ve seen it haven’t you? This world is slowly unravelling. Everyone talks about how the great peace with the paladins is a sign of compassion overcoming hate, that we can learn to trust and understand each other. It isn’t.”

“I’ll concede that things do seem to be getting worse.” Amara conceded slowly, “But Ere, I was there when the Treaty of New Pax was signed. There is less hate in the world than there was back then, I’ve seen that with my own two eyes. My own people are no longer the great terrors of the night, we’re just people and we can walk without fear of stakes and torches in just about any city in the Paladin Protectorate.”

“Perhaps, but the reason it’s happening isn’t that we’ve all learned to be better more tolerant people. It’s because we can no longer afford to be at each other’s throats, and even now there are far too many who would happily burn as long as those they call enemy burn alongside them.” He shook his head wearily, “The disaster at Maltz convinced me this world needed a monster. A boogeyman that would send the old terrors of the world scurrying back under their rocks.”

“I suspect you’re meandering slowly to a point here?” Amara huffed out an amused sigh.

“Just trying to provide context to the point.” Erebus smiled back at her, “And the point is that it worked, and that it’s never worked the way you think it did. All this rushing from crisis to crisis, I don’t do that. Can you remember the first thing I did once I got back to Reath from the Hells?”

“It’s hard to forget.” The vampire smirked, “You appeared in a thunderstrike outside the Palace of Agony. Told the Archdemon of Pain that his time on Reath was at an end and when he refused to leave you clapped your hands once and the walls of the palace fell then walked in and killed the demon lord and banished all eight of his lieutenants in an eight on one duel. I saw it all on a scrying orb… hells I think half the world did.”

“Half of Contenmere anyway.” Erebus rejoined, “And did you never wonder how half a continent knew to be looking there?”

“Vulcanus got a tipoff that something was going down there from a lich we’re on good terms on. She said she got it off Karatas who said… oh. Yeah I see where this is going. You tipped off Karatas.”

“Guilty as charged. See the first thing I did on Reath was track down the plans for Kelthoras’ palace, then when I found out that, like most paranoid despots, he’d had the architect killed and the plans burned I sought out a historian.” Erebus scowled fiercely, good architects were worth a thousand demon lords in his eyes, “Between us we worked out where he’d had the bricks sourced and what the composition of the mortar was likely to be. After that I spent two whole months making bricks then trying to shake them apart with resonance – as an aside you’d be surprised just how many places forget to defend against physics as well as magic.”

“Well that’s terrifying but beyond your scorn for magical defences what’s your point?” Admittedly Amara had a similar desultory approach to magical barriers. Having mana devouring flames tended to do that to a mage.

“That what looked like a single moment of overwhelming power was actually several months of planning. And that if we keep jumping from problem to problem we’re all going to wind up dead.”

Amara did a double-take at that, the pyromancer stunned into momentary silence, “Y-you’re only just figuring this out?”

“Wait you mean you already knew?!” Erebus spluttered, thoroughly flummoxed as his own revelation was trumped without mercy.

“Yes fearless leader, it’s not exactly subtle and none of us are stupid. The first big sign was when an active death seeker decided to join us and it’s rather escalated from there. Everyone knows, there are beetles that have lived there entire lives underground looking for worms to eat that probably know.” Amara shook her head, bemused to the point of admiration, “I mean I know noone’s actually omniscient but as blind spots go… wow. Just wow.”

“Then why are you all still here? You should be running for the hills rather than being around me right now.”

“Ignoring the fact there are assassins after my red-robed ass? We’re your friends, and you don’t abandon your friends.” She explained patiently.

“That simple huh?” He arched an eyebrow at her, hiding his smile as best he could, though his lips twitched upwards all the same.

“Of course. Just remember, despite all you’ve said, we trust your judgement. Now why are you really here?”

“I’m planning a change of strategy.” Erebus told her, and if his eyes were a little watery everyone was kind enough not to mention it. “Susan’s death… changes things. I’m going to hold another meeting at the Melodious Duck, go over our options so to speak.”

“I’ll be there. Is there anything else we can do?” The vampire offered earnestly.

“Honestly your friendship is enough, and more than I deserve.”