Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

The power that flowed between Aldric and me was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Where my necromancy was cold and demanding, his life magic was warm and giving. Where my shadows sought to consume, his light sought to heal. Together, we created something entirely new—a force that transcended both life and death.
I could feel the ancient bones beneath the cathedral floor stirring, but not with the mindless hunger of the undead. These spirits were awakening with purpose, with memory, with choice. The very foundation of necromancy was being rewritten in the space between our joined hands.
"It's working," Aldric breathed, his eyes wide with wonder and terror. Through our bond, I felt his amazement mixing with my determination. "I can feel them choosing to rise."
The first skeleton emerged from the marble floor like a swimmer breaking the surface of dark water. But instead of the bleached bone and empty sockets I expected, this warrior wore spectral flesh over his frame—translucent but whole. His eyes held intelligence, not the hollow gaze of the undead.
"My queen," the spirit said, his voice echoing with the weight of centuries. "I am Sir Marcus Greyhold, faithful knight of Shadowmere. I choose to stand with you."
More were rising now, dozens of them. Ancient knights and noble ladies, priests and warriors, all choosing to return not as slaves to my will but as allies to our cause. The cathedral filled with ghostly light as the living dead took their places around us.
But the effort was costing us. I could feel Aldric's life force flowing through our bond, mixing with mine to fuel this impossible magic. His face was pale, his breathing labored. If we maintained this much longer, it would kill us both.
"Seraphina!" Kael's urgent shout cut through my concentration. "They're at the doors!"
The thundering of boots and shouts of Lord Cassius's soldiers filled the air outside. I had perhaps minutes before they broke through the cathedral's ancient barriers. Whatever army I was raising needed to be ready now.
"How many can you sustain?" I asked Aldric through gritted teeth.
"Twenty, maybe thirty," he replied, sweat beading on his forehead. "But not for long."
It would have to be enough. I turned to address our ethereal army, marveling at how natural it felt to command those who served by choice rather than compulsion. "Sir Marcus, can your companions fight?"
The ghostly knight drew a spectral sword that gleamed with inner light. "We have waited centuries for a worthy cause, Your Majesty. Death could not stop us before—it will not stop us now."
A tremendous crash echoed through the cathedral as something heavy struck the main doors. The ancient wood groaned but held. Lord Cassius's men were using a battering ram.
"My queen," Duke Blackwood called from where he crouched behind an overturned pew. "Perhaps we should consider surrender. Surely Lord Cassius would be merciful if—"
"Cassius murdered my mother in cold blood," I cut him off. "Mercy is not in his vocabulary."
Another crash. The doors were splintering now. I could hear voices shouting orders, the scrape of steel being drawn. Two hundred men, Kael had estimated. Even with our ghostly allies, the odds were grim.
That's when I felt it—another presence stirring in the depths below. Something much older than the knights and nobles we'd already awakened. Something that had been sleeping in the deepest crypts since the cathedral's founding.
Child. The voice resonated not just in my mind but through the stone itself. You awaken dangerous forces.
Through the soul-bond, I felt Aldric's alarm. He'd sensed it too—a power so ancient it predated both our kingdoms. Something that had been deliberately buried, forgotten, sealed away for good reason.
The doors exploded inward with a crash that shook the entire cathedral. Lord Cassius's soldiers poured through the breach, their battle cries echoing off the vaulted ceiling. At their head strode General Thorne himself, his scarred face twisted with rage and grief for his fallen king.
"Surrender, witch!" he bellowed, his sword already dripping with the blood of the surviving guards who'd tried to hold the entrance. "Lord Cassius offers mercy to those who kneel!"
I stepped forward, Aldric beside me, our ghostly army arranged in perfect formation. Sir Marcus and his companions stood ready, their spectral weapons gleaming with deadly purpose. Behind us, the few surviving nobles huddled together, their faces pale with terror.
"Tell me, General," I called out, my voice carrying clearly across the cathedral. "Did Lord Cassius offer my mother mercy when he killed her? Did he offer mercy to the innocents who died in his quest for power?"
Thorne's expression darkened. "Your mother was a traitor to the rightful order. Just as you are."
"My mother was murdered because she discovered the truth about the man you serve. But that ends tonight."
I raised my hand, and Sir Marcus gave a battle cry that seemed to shake the very foundations of the cathedral. Our ghostly army charged forward, spectral steel meeting mortal iron in a clash that sent sparks flying through the sacred space.
But even as the battle began, I felt that ancient presence stirring deeper. The power that had been sealed away for centuries was responding to the massive magical working above. Whatever we'd awakened by combining life and death magic, it wanted to be free.
Through our bond, I felt Aldric's growing fear. "Seraphina, we need to stop. The deeper magic—it's not safe."
"It's too late," I replied, watching our ghostly knights cut through Cassius's soldiers with supernatural skill.
"Whatever's down there, it's already waking up."
The cathedral floor began to crack beneath our feet. Ancient symbols I didn't recognize glowed with eldritch light, pulsing in rhythm with something vast and terrible stirring in the depths below. The very stones seemed to whisper warnings in languages older than human speech.
General Thorne fought his way through the spectral warriors, his blessed blade cutting through ghostly flesh like it was solid. He was heading straight for me, his eyes burning with fanatical purpose.
"Kill the witch and her sorcerer!" he shouted to his men. "Break their unholy bond!"
But as he raised his sword to strike, the cathedral floor exploded upward in a shower of ancient stone and bones. Something immense and terrible rose from the depths—a creature of shadow and nightmare that had been sealed away since the kingdom's founding.
The Bone Dragon had awakened, and its hollow eye sockets fixed on me with recognition and ancient rage.
The battle for the cathedral had just become something far more dangerous than a simple clash of arms.
We'd awakened something that could destroy not just Lord Cassius's army, but both our kingdoms.