Twenty-two years earlier…

Mozer was reading a thick text titled “Conquering War” in his room. He sat at a desk underneath an arched window with a broad view of Lavarund from the third floor of the royal castle. He studied each page. It was his fifth time reading it through. Though it was once mandatory reading by his father, he grew to appreciate the vicious imagery, the battle strategies, and how to instill fear in your enemies. Memorization would be necessary. Mozer figured if he were in a predicament, he wouldn’t go off instinct but rely on the lessons he learned in “Conquering War.” It was his father’s favorite book, but Mozer made sure he would read it more than his father.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in.” Mozer turned in his seat to lock eyes with Lara.

“Prince Mozer,” Lara said.

“Yes?”

“Your father would like to see you downstairs.”

“What do you mean downstairs? I’m on the third floor. That could mean the second floor, ground floor, or basement.”

“Basement chamber.”

Mozer paused for a moment, and the corner of his lip curled up. “Take me, please. It’s been a while since I’ve been down there.” Mozer’s voice was a slithery whisper.

Lara hid her grimace, but she couldn’t hide her goosebumps. “Yes, I can take you down.”

The two of them walked side-by-side through the castle’s corridors, and Mozer scanned Lara’s body up and down. She could feel his leer without looking over. The walk couldn’t finish fast enough for Lara. When they reached the basement, Lara stopped at the bottom of the steps and pointed at the end of the hall.

“Thanks.” Mozer’s crooked lips curved up, and he strolled down and entered the chamber. Walking down the aisle of cellars, he saw his father at the end with his arms folded, waiting outside an iron door. “Father.”

“My prince. How old are you now? Fifteen?”

Mozer sneered. “You don’t know the age of your only child.”

His father smacked him across the face.

“You called me down here just to hit me?” Mozer smirked.

His father narrowed his eyes. “No. That’s for getting smart with me. I’ve called you down here because today marks an important day for you. Your graduation.” His father took the sword harnessed on his back and gave it to Mozer.

“Graduation?” Mozer asked.

His father grinned. “Go ahead, I’m done with the man in there. I’ll see you for dinner, and when I check back later this evening, he better not be moving. If you graduate, I’ll specially gift you a sword crafted to your liking. Whatever size, shape, or material you want. Hell, we can even disguise it in a cane. How’s that sound?”

Mozer gulped. Mozer knew this day would come soon, but he didn’t know when. Sweat beads covered his forehead and down the rest of his body.

“Don’t disappoint me now.” His father scowled.

“You’re not going to be here after I’m done?” Mozer asked.

“You want a vlarking hug? You know what to do.” His father stormed out, shoving Mozer’s shoulder on his way. “Just get it done!”

“I don’t know how!”

His father strode toward the exit and spun around when he reached the other end. “You’ve seen it before!” His father slammed the door on his way out.

Mozer stared ahead and yanked open the handle, entering the cellar to find a man with his wrists chained up against the wall. Mozer unsheathed the sword and approached the man, quivering. The man had a sunken face with white-hair and deep wrinkles that could be mistaken as scars. His rib cage was completely visible.

“So you’re just going to kill me without knowing a thing about who I am?” the old man said with a surprising amount of life left in him.

Mozer tightened his lips and his grasp on the handle of the sword.

“I could make you more powerful than your father, you know.”

Mozer inched closer.

“I’m not trying to hold on to life. You’d have to be daft if you thought I’d have a shot at survival.”

Mozer didn’t reply.

“Your father is a vlarking idiot, and I could make you more powerful than he could ever imagine.”

Mozer cocked the blade behind his back, ready to give a clean slice.

“But if you kill me, you’ll always live in the shadow of your father—mark my words. You can read ‘Conquering War’ all you want, but the information I have could stop your father and give you the crown you earned. You could kill him with the power of your mind if you really desired. And who knows, I might regret this someday, but it’s a roll of the dice, for we’re heading towards inevitable war no matter what, and it will likely fall on your shoulders.”

Mozer stopped and rested the tip of the blade on the stone floor. “What the vlark are you talking about?”

“You can learn a way to crush a man’s bones without even having to lay a finger on him.” The old man grinned. “It’s difficult magic, but anyone can identify as a necromancer. Everyone is capable of the power. How well you can concentrate and how fearless you are will only add to your power. Your father is afraid of us because he knows deep down that we are more powerful. Do you fear your father?”

Mozer hesitated.

“I thought just as much. Let me teach you what I know of necromancy. Let me tell you where you can find a book to learn the history of our world and where you can learn spells and curses.”

Mozer’s eyes widened.

“I can feel your energy,” the old man said. “I can even get a glimpse of your mind, and I feel nothing but that damned ‘Conquering War,’ which is a fine read, but it will only get you so far. You’re a talented young man who’s capable of incredible power. Kill me. I really don’t care anymore, but I’d love to see you take down your father. I can feel the hunger you have to overthrow him.”

Mozer trembled.

“That’s right. It could be our secret, and I’ll be dead. He’ll never know how you became so powerful. I’ll even beg you to kill me to make this whole process easier.”

Mozer stared at his sword and looked back into the old man’s widened eyes.

“I’m gonna die anyway. I may as well part my knowledge to you. Your father reminds me of my old man, and if I could, I would’ve shown my dad who’s really the boss.”

“Fine.” Mozer dropped the sword, which jingled as it hit the ground. “You vlarking bastard. Tell me everything you know, but just be aware, I’m still going to kill you.”

“Of course. I understand, nothing personal. It’s just business. I’ve had it comin’ anyways, been looking forward to it, really.” The old man chuckled.

“You necromancers really are twisted.” Mozer shuddered.

“No. I’m just a man who’s got nothing to lose.”

* * *

The present…

As the months dragged on, Mozer traveled to the Navy post east of Lostonia once a week. He demanded all guards stay outside as he locked the doors and performed his “inspection.”

Mozer would stand in front of an area and say, “Bones are vessels of the soul. I give my blood to bring life as toll. Rise within and become my companion. Awaken and rise, reform and mend. Become one, once again.”

Only to assemble a handful of pieces of a specific area.

Over the months, he had connected the tail, legs, arms, and head. Mozer only had to affix all the parts to the body.

Standing in front of the behemoth, he said the words, stabbed his palm, and deftly dodged the necromancer’s block. The sheer will and concentration made Mozer collapse each time. An hour passed before he opened his eyes and pulled himself up. Mozer admired his latest achievement.

The arms and legs were attached to the body.

If only I had the energy to connect the rest, Mozer thought.

As Mozer left for his thirty-six horse carriage, Holtmeyer met him in the stables.

“Your Highness, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Mozer grumbled. “Talk to my assistant.” A piercing pain lingered in Mozer’s head after each summoning effort. He slumped into the carriage and slammed the door shut, reaching for a bottle of mead in the cabin.

Lara stood by the carriage during Mozer’s entrance, and she approached Holtmeyer. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been checking in on the remains after Mozer’s visits, and each week, I’ve noticed more of them are attached to each other. Will you let him know that? None of my men have gone near it, and it’s damn near fully assembled,” Holtmeyer said.

“In case you haven’t figured it out, he’s the one assembling them.”

“But why?”

“I don’t really know. He said something about defending against necromancers, but I’m not sure I buy it.”

“Vlark, I was hoping you’d have some more information. I don’t even know what those remains are. Is it some kind of prehistoric monster whale with wings?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Lara sighed. “Definitely prehistoric if I had to guess. Apparently, he’s been saying some weird things in his sleep, too.”

Holtmeyer arched his brow, taking a moment to pause before saying something he might regret. “May I ask how this is relevant?”

“Please, I know you don’t like him. Believe me, you’re not alone,” Lara assured.

A half-smile pulled up the corner of Holtmeyer’s lips.

“It’s relevant, though, because he’s been talking about some battle taking place at Nezura,” Lara said.

“So, war is happening. It’s finally happening?”

“I don’t know. This is what his girlfriend told me. He blabbers on in the middle of his sleep about a battle in Nezura. I just wanted to give you a warning that we might be mobilizing in the near future.”

Holtmeyer clenched his fist. “But that would be so…”

“It’s all right; you can say it. I promise, this stays between us.”

“Irresponsible!” Holtmeyer yelled in an angry whisper. “The last time the necromancers stormed the kingdom, so many Silver infantrymen died! The necromancers have the Southeast, and things are fine. Why must we sacrifice more men for a needless battle?”

Lara nodded. “I agree. I don’t think it’s right, but I do have a question for you. Is there any way to observe what’s happening in the storage house when Mozer goes in?”

“There isn’t.”

“Could you make that a possibility?”

Holtmeyer’s jaw dropped. “Uh, I think so. Yes.”

“Keep this strictly between you and me. Until then, take care, Holtmeyer.” Lara turned around and waved, climbing inside the royal carriage.

“What the vlark was that all about?” Mozer gulped his mead.

“Holtmeyer noticed that pieces of bone are starting to connect together, and he wanted to confirm with you that his men aren’t touching the remains,” Lara said.

“He dared to say that?” Mozer snarled.

“Relax. I told him the truth, that the bones will be put on display and treated with a special process that’s important for defense against the necromancers.”

“Good. Vlarking idiots.” Mozer sneered as the thirty-six horses galloped out of the stables.