The dawn sky was a bruised gray, heavy with clouds that swallowed the light before it could touch the earth. From the narrow fissures of the hollow, Kael’s army began to rise.
Chains slithered first, their iron links scraping over the black stone, writhing like a nest of serpents. Behind them came the wraithlike spirits that Kael had pulled from the hollow’s depths—half-formed figures wrapped in mist and shadows, their hollow eyes burning red in the dim light. The boy gripped his spear tighter as they passed him, trying not to shudder at the soft, mournful hiss that followed them like whispers of the grave.
Kael walked at the head of the procession, his long coat dark against the faint red glow that bled from the sigil behind him. He didn’t look back to see if the others followed. He cou
