A few blocks away a pair of eyes that had been closed peacefully as he used his own necromancy opened wide. The lavender depths of his irises were surrounded by a ring of deepest black and shone maliciously as they glared into the night. Silver hair surrounded an equally pitiless, yet beautiful face that seemed to harden without losing its perfection.
Craven narrowed his eyes, feeling someone else’s necromancy on the breeze and the fragile spark of power emanating from it. His territory had been breached by another necromancer. He had claimed the small graveyard as his own and left watchdogs behind to make sure it remained secure while he moved on to another.
Walking through the water of the fountain he’d been standing in, Craven stepped out onto the grass. The fountain was in the center
