The Foremost Eminarch, strongest and wisest of the kin, had fallen.
“You caused this,” Necrovar breathed, “but I can end it. Relinquish your claim. Let me have Shivnath’s magic, and I’ll put everything right. From one heartbeat to the next, all the creatures of this world will belong to me, and I will stop them from lifting a hand in violence ever again.”
Lost in a haze, stricken with sorrow, the offer was almost tempting.
Yet the creatures of the world were fighting. Nordrion, and countless others, had died fighting. They had rejected Necrovar’s rule—across the span of millennia they’d rejected it. He hadn’t won his war, because there were, and always had been, people who chose to fight against the darkness. And maybe, if there were enough people who fought, he’d never win.
“No,” she
