This… this is Cal Anore—Cerwiden’scapitol.
Of all the damning places the gate could have brought me, ithadto be to the doorstep of the notorious necromancer closest to Vaelyn.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Nektos and hersense of humor can burn in the hells for eternity.
Shewouldhave me stumble upon the most powerful necromancer. And hewouldhave a tangled history with my twin. While our first meeting in the days leading to my escape was brief, he’s different than I remember…
“I’m afforded the opportunity of welcoming you to Cerwiden after all,” the necromancer muses, a sanguine smile curling his lips as he approaches.
All eyes pin against him—onbothsides of the Ferry Gate.
There’s no doubt his presence commands attention with little effort.
Where are the Malbolge bindings inked upon his face?
The glowing red eyes?
He’s not asskeletalas I recall, but he cannot bethatchanged in this realm.
The ominous and damned creature I met before doesn’t stand before me. And again, I’m left wondering if it’s the result of his freedom from Netharis’ contract—like Rowen.
This… revitalization strikes the same vein.
It’s easier to see how handsome he is. It’s… unexpected.
But unlike Rowen, this renowned necromancer, Cenviri, isn’t going to tell Vaelyn no—not when it comes to a contract offer. Cenviri made it clear he and Vaelyn have worked together forcenturies.
With haste as he takes his final steps toward the gate, I survey every inch of the dark fae’s exposed skin for evidence of a demonmark. And find nothing. But his robes cover more than they reveal, and he’s bound to catch me staring.
This… this is a death sentence for us if I am not careful here.
I need to figure out a means to close this gate.
And never open it again.
“This gate was opened in error,” I say, keeping the icy edge in my tone.
Among demons, appearances matter and despite never having stood before this necromancer’s House before, my name carries a significant impact I need to uphold if we’re to survive this.
“Close it and you’ll have my word I shall not reopen it,” I say.
Confusion twists the necromancer’s features as he stops before the gate. He studies me, matching the intensity with which I studied him.
We’re both wary.
I’m not sure that bodes well.
Behind him, his Generals reform their single line, keeping their stares locked in our direction. It’s a subtle show of aggression and it isn’t lost on me. These fae and humans will fight to the dying breath to protect Cenviri… knowing Cenviri will use their flesh to continue fighting after.
It is a dedication unlike any other.
How Cenviri, or any Cerwiden House Patriarch, has garnered such loyalty leaves me with questions better kept to myself.
Moss green eyes—a rather intriguing color—sweep over Ryc before darting to Eve and Cyran. Returning them to me, he gives me a rather assessing stare—considering our last meeting, I’m sure I appear as changed as he.
His gaze falls upon the small, leather satchel tied to my hip—lingering far longer than I’d like—and grows narrow. But he remains silent as he meets my eyes.
