The voice echoed through the chamber, deep and resonant, filling the air with an ancient authority. The skeletal figure in the sarcophagus rose slowly, its golden mask glimmering in the faint light of the tomb. Donn stood frozen, watching as the being came to life, the very air around it charged with magic.
"I have waited for you," the figure repeated, its voice like the grinding of ancient stone. The glow in its hollow eyes flared, locking onto Donn with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
Donn's grip tightened on the Necrotome, his mind racing. This was no ordinary undead. It was something far older, far more powerful than anything he had ever raised. The whispers of the dead had led him here for a reason, and now, standing before this ancient being, Donn realized just how small he was in the grand scheme of things.
The skeletal figure stepped out of the sarcophagus, its decayed robes flowing around it as though carried by an unseen wind. Its staff, carved with runes that pulsed with forgotten magic, struck the ground with a resounding thud as the figure approached.
"Who are you?" Donn asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping through him.
The figure paused, its gaze never leaving Donn. "I am the Forgotten King," it said, its voice reverberating through the chamber. "Once, I ruled over both the living and the dead. But time, as it always does, buried my legacy. Until now."
Donn's mind raced. The Forgotten King. He had never heard of such a figure, but there was no denying the power that radiated from him. This being had once commanded forces far beyond anything Donn could comprehend.
"And you?" The Forgotten King continued, his voice taking on a curious tone. "You are the one who wields the Necrotome, the one it has chosen."
Donn nodded, unsure of what to say. He could feel the weight of the Necrotome in his hand, its power resonating with the presence of the Forgotten King.
The king's hollow eyes seemed to study him, as though seeing far beyond the surface. "You seek power, but you do not yet understand the true depths of necromancy. The Necrotome is but a tool. It can make you a ruler of the dead, but only if you are willing to embrace the cost."
Donn's pulse quickened. The Necrotome had already given him more power than he had ever imagined, but the idea that there was more, far more, was both thrilling and terrifying.
"What cost?" Donn asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The Forgotten King stepped closer, the aura of his ancient magic pressing against Donn like a physical force. "Power over death requires sacrifice. Not just of those around you, but of yourself. To truly master necromancy, you must surrender your ties to life. You must become one with the dead."
Donn's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't considered that the path he was on might lead to something more permanent. He had always thought of himself as human, wielding the power of the dead. But the Forgotten King's words hinted at a darker truth, that to truly master necromancy, one had to transcend mortality itself.
The king's gaze bore into him. "You stand at the threshold, Donn. The Necrotome has chosen you because it knows you are capable of more than you realize. But the choice is yours: remain bound by the limitations of the living, or embrace the endless potential of death."
Donn's mind raced. The prospect of immortality, of becoming something more than human, was intoxicating. But it also filled him with uncertainty. Was he ready to leave behind everything he had ever known? Was he ready to walk the path of the Forgotten King?
"I... I don't know," Donn admitted, his voice wavering. "I don't know if I'm ready."
The Forgotten King's expression was unreadable behind his golden mask, but his voice softened, as though he understood Donn's hesitation. "No one is ever truly ready for the burden of eternity. But know this: if you choose to walk this path, you will have power beyond imagination. You will command the dead as I once did, and your name will be whispered in every corner of the world. You will be unstoppable."
Donn swallowed hard. He could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on him. This was not a choice to be made lightly. But as he stood in the presence of the Forgotten King, surrounded by the echoes of the past, he knew one thing for certain: he had already come too far to turn back.
"I want to learn," Donn said, his voice steady now. "I want to understand the true power of necromancy."
The Forgotten King nodded slowly, as though he had expected nothing less. "Then the first lesson begins now."
With a wave of his hand, the Forgotten King gestured toward the chamber around them. The walls, once silent and still, began to shift and crack. Bones erupted from the ground, swirling into the air as the king summoned the dead with a single thought. The room filled with the sound of rattling bones and the low hum of ancient magic.
"Watch closely," the king said, his voice calm amid the chaos. "The dead are not mere tools. They are extensions of your will, reflections of your mastery. To control them, you must first understand them."
Donn watched in awe as the king's magic wove through the bones, reassembling them into skeletal warriors. But these were not like the ones Donn had summoned before, these were larger, stronger, their armor etched with runes that glowed with an otherworldly light.
The Forgotten King turned to Donn, his hollow eyes glowing faintly. "Now, you try."
Donn hesitated for only a moment before raising the Necrotome. He closed his eyes and focused, feeling the pulse of magic within the tome, the connection between him and the dead. He could feel the bones in the chamber responding to his call, stirring beneath the earth.
"Rise," Donn whispered, his voice filled with determination.
The ground trembled as the bones shifted, rising from the earth and forming into skeletal shapes. Donn could feel the strain, the weight of the magic pressing against him, but he did not waver. Slowly, the skeletons assembled, standing tall before him, their eyes glowing with the same eerie light that filled the chamber.
The Forgotten King watched silently, his expression unreadable. When Donn finally lowered the Necrotome, his breathing heavy, the king nodded.
"You are beginning to understand," the king said. "But this is only the first step. There is much more to learn, and far greater power to be gained."
Donn looked at the skeletal warriors he had raised, feeling a surge of pride. He was growing stronger, more confident in his abilities. But as he glanced at the Forgotten King, he realized that this was only the beginning. The path ahead was long, and the power he sought would not come easily.
But Donn was ready.