Donn stood at the edge of the battlefield, the ancient tome heavy in his hands. The stillness of the dead lay all around him, but his mind buzzed with possibilities. The power within the tome had already granted him a taste of what he could command, and now, it was time to test the limits.
The knight he had raised in the heat of desperation stood motionless at his side, sword lowered but ready to serve. Its glowing eyes followed Donn's every move, awaiting the next order. It was strange, this thing, once a man of flesh and blood, was now nothing more than a vessel. Donn could feel it in his very bones: the knight existed only to serve him.
He turned his gaze toward the scattered remains across the battlefield, a sea of bodies stretched out before him, silent and still. The dead could no longer tell their stories, but Donn could feel their dormant energy waiting to be stirred.
With a deep breath, he reached out with his mind, focusing on a group of fallen soldiers nearby. The Necrotome pulsed in his hand, its ancient symbols glowing faintly as if in anticipation. He spoke the word he had uttered earlier, the word that had changed everything:
"Rise."
The air grew colder as his voice echoed through the field. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the bodies stirred. Limbs twitched, bones cracked, and one by one, the soldiers rose from their graves. Their armor clinked together as they stood, their eyes glowing with the same eerie light that illuminated the knight by Donn's side.
An army. His army.
A thrill ran through him, the kind that sent shivers down his spine. He could feel their obedience, their absolute loyalty. The soldiers, once men with lives and families, were now his to command. But it wasn't just the power over life and death that excited him, it was the realization of what he could become.
Donn raised his hand, testing the bond between them. The soldiers responded instantly, turning to face him in unison. It was as if they were an extension of his own body, moving with his every thought. With a flick of his wrist, they knelt before him, weapons lowered in submission.
A grim smile tugged at the corners of Donn's lips.
He had no grand plan. Not yet. But standing here, in this wasteland of death, he knew one thing for certain: he would never be powerless again. This was just the beginning.
A rustle of movement caught his attention, and Donn turned to see a figure approaching from the distance. His first thought was that it was another scavenger, someone looking to pick over the remains of the dead. But as the figure drew closer, Donn noticed something strange about their presence, an aura that felt unnatural, almost familiar.
The figure stepped into view, cloaked in black robes that billowed in the wind. Their face was hidden by a deep hood, but the air around them crackled with energy, as though the very fabric of reality shifted in their wake.
Donn's hand instinctively tightened around the tome. He could sense something ancient within this stranger, something dangerous.
The figure stopped a few paces away and lowered their hood, revealing the face of an elderly man with deep-set eyes and a sharp, calculating expression. His voice, when he spoke, was low and rasping.
"You have awakened the Necrotome," the man said, his gaze fixed on Donn. "Do you understand the power you now hold?"
Donn remained silent, uncertain of who this man was or what he wanted. But something in the man's tone stirred a memory, visions of the past, of ancient wars and long-forgotten rulers, flashed through his mind.
The man stepped forward, unbothered by the army of undead that surrounded them. He seemed to pay them no mind at all.
"The world is vast," the stranger continued. "And you, Donn, have barely scratched the surface of what you can achieve."
Donn's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
The man's lips curled into a smile, one that did not reach his eyes. "I am your guide. Or, at least, I will be… if you are wise enough to accept my help."
"I don't need help," Donn replied, his voice steady. The undead knight at his side shifted, as if sensing his growing tension. "I have all the power I need."
"Do you now?" The man's smile widened, and he gestured toward the battlefield. "Raising soldiers from the dead is but the first step, boy. The Necrotome holds far more power than you can imagine. And there are those who will seek to take it from you."
Donn's grip on the tome tightened. He didn't trust this man, but his words echoed with truth. Even as he stood here, surrounded by the dead under his control, Donn knew there was more to this power. And if others sought it, he would need to be ready.
The stranger studied him for a long moment, then nodded, as though coming to a decision. "I'll leave you to your thoughts for now, Donn. But remember, power like this draws attention. You won't remain hidden for long."
With that, the man turned and walked away, his form disappearing into the fog that clung to the battlefield. Donn watched him go, his mind racing. Whoever that man was, he knew more than he let on. And if Donn was going to survive in this new world of death and power, he would need to learn quickly.
As the fog swallowed the figure, Donn looked back at his army. The dead stood ready, their glowing eyes waiting for his command.
He had taken his first step, and there was no turning back now.