General Grave

"Stop them!" Gryseld bellowed.

Just like that, the fighters leaped back into action. Stabbing, shooting, bludgeoning, attacking with all their might. But it was no use. As soon as a zombie fell, it rose back to its feet as if tugged by invisible strings.

Darian was still on her knees, gasping for breath. When a zombie reared from behind, Theo opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Kress got there first. She snatched the prince with one arm and charged through the fray, her face a stony mask of determination.

There was no way Darian had another attack like that in her. And Theo didn't know if he'd be able to cast the spell again, either. Though he hadn't run out of Levia yet, he couldn't seem to concentrate enough to grab hold of his power. And the light inside the Star of Miriel grew dimmer with every frantic heartbeat.

Still, he had to try. If not elemental spells, the strengthening spells on everyone. Hurry –

A chill scraped down his spine, stinging like icy fingers upon his skin. With it came a horrible pressure throbbing inside his head, so deep and heavy his dawn light retreated beyond his grasp.

Dread hammered inside his chest like a second heartbeat. He had already sensed this power from the zombies, but never had it been so concentrated.

A series of metallic clicks snapped his attention. Fighting against the pressure, he lifted his head enough to see the pirates aboard Gryseld's craft lifting and aiming rifles – not at the battlefield, but some point behind the village.

Slowly, warring with his stiff muscles the entire time, Theo turned around.

At first, he wondered if he was dreaming. What he saw made no sense: a woman standing in the middle of the sky. Standing, not flying. Not only did she have no wings, but her feet were flat and level like there was solid ground beneath her.

Then she stepped forward. One step, and another, agonizingly deliberate. And she wasn't just moving ahead; instead, every step brought her closer to the ground, as if she was descending an invisible ramp.

When the woman came to a stop, it wasn't on the ground. Instead, she stood level with the rooftops of the houses. Though several dozen yards separated her from Theo, the distance seemed terrifyingly small. Every instinct told him she could close it in a single jump and strike him down before he could even think about escaping.

He had to get out of here – but he couldn't twitch a single muscle. And he wasn't the only one. The entire village felt like a held breath awaiting release, every fighter staring at the woman in numb shock. Even the zombies had fallen still, though it was less like they had become lifeless corpses again and more like they had frozen in place.

The woman was a demon, her horns sweeping out in broad arcs and dripping with piercings. Her Infernal Legion uniform clung to every curve of her statuesque body. No doubt about it – this had to be General Grave.

And she wasn't alone. Someone – something? - was slung over her back, head lolling against her shoulder. A corpse, but in a far more advanced state of decay than the zombies. Only a few scraps of desiccated skin clung to its skull. As General Grave gazed upon the battlefield, she lifted a bone-white hand and patted the corpse's skull with a tenderness that made Theo feel sick.

"Such an ill-mannered lot," she said, clicking her tongue. Her deep, throaty voice resounded through the icy night. "Don't think you can get away with breaking my toys."

"You're the one who needs lessons in manners," Gryseld shouted back, bold as ever. "Showing up to lecture us without bothering with introductions? For shame."

"Introductions...oh, right." General Grave tossed her head, piercings jingling like quiet laughter. "Pay your respects to General Grave of the Infernal Legion."

"Apologies, but I'm not the sort to take orders from anyone, especially if they're military goons like you," Gryseld said, sharper than Theo had ever heard her. "And I daresay I'm not alone in these sentiments."

Grave's black-painted lips spread into a smirk. "Aren't you misinterpreting things? I'm not giving you orders. I'm merely telling you what's going to happen. I'll kill you all and turn your corpses into my loyal soldiers. Not even poor departed Serac could protest this sort of poetic justice."

"Serac?" Darian rose to her feet, her entire body trembling. The shock in her voice reverberated through Theo's chest.

"Don't play dumb." Grave's lip curled. "Do you honestly believe the Infernal Legion would allow you to run free after slaughtering two Grand Generals? Your insolence ends here. No, we should have ended it much, much sooner."

So it was true. Zenith hadn't just attacked a Grand General; he had killed one. A sick, slow wave of dizziness swept through Theo's body.

"I'll take credit for Hellebore, but we had nothing to do with General Serac," Darian said, high and strained.

"Really, now?" Grave barked a disbelieving laugh. "I thought you were better at dissembling than that, Prince Darian. Or are you saying we only imagined your knight putting his sword through Serac's chest?"

Darian breathed in sharply, clenching her hands into fists. But she didn't say anything, and Theo knew why; the last thing she wanted to do was reveal to a Grand General that Zenith had betrayed them.

"Well, regardless." Grave tilted her chin, all traces of the smirk gone from her face. "You're all going to die. Even if you've somehow managed to scrounge up reinforcements – " She glanced at the pirate craft " – it won't do you any good. Sit back and accept your fate. You'll have a fine second life as my adorable little toys."

She turned a fond smile upon the corpse on her back, tugging its skeletal hand to rest over her chest. Theo's stomach wrenched.

"Like hell!" Kress's furious shout split apart the air. Drawing a knife from her belt, she charged at Grave.

With that, everyone else seemed to snap awake. Gryseld raised her pistols, barking orders to her crew. Ryan and Fia raced after Kress, and they were quickly joined by Sam and Ryllis.

Theo had to do his part too. He got ready to jump off the roof – only for a snarling zombie to flail its bony hands at him. Yelling a curse, Theo stumbled back and landed on his rear.

All the zombies had come back to life, he realized with a thrill of dread. No matter if they were missing arms or legs or even heads, or had holes gaping in their chests, they hauled themselves off the ground and advanced upon the crew. Even those who had been reduced to piles of bones reassembled themselves back into skeletons.

Grave's power throbbed through the air, so thick and heavy Theo could barely breathe through it. Beneath the icy darkness of the Infernal Legion's Levia, he sensed something musky and almost sweet, like grave dirt and rotting flesh....

It was so much more intense than before. This time, he doubted even Darian's elemental attack could defeat the zombies.

"Theo!" With a clatter of armor, Victor landed in front of him. Theo yelped in surprise when Victor scooped him up in his arms and jumped off the roof, narrowly avoiding the zombie that flung itself up after them.

When Victor landed, more zombies were waiting for them. Snarling, he pressed Theo close to his side with his left arm while swinging his sword with his right, purple flames trailing after the blade.

A zombie's head flew off, but its body kept shuffling forward, arms outstretched. This time Victor stabbed at its chest, but the moment he pulled the sword free the flames flickered and died, and the diagram beneath his feet went up in sparks.

With a hoarse gasp, Victor fell down on one knee. "Victor!" Theo yelled, grabbing his shoulder, but Victor didn't seem to feel him. He kept gasping and wheezing, which soon deepened into full-on coughs that reverberated inside his helm.

Heart slamming in dread, Theo fumbled for the mask of the helm. At least if he took it off, Victor might be able to breathe easier. But the zombies wouldn't give them a moment's reprieve. As they closed in around him and Victor, Theo desperately flung up a shield diagram. A pink dome shimmered in place around the two of them, bathing them in gentle dawn light, but even as it appeared it began to quiver beneath the zombies' pounding fists.

This wasn't enough – he needed to augment Victor, give him the strength to attack. But would it even do any good? All the strength in the world wouldn't help when Victor was coughing too hard to stand up.

A healing spell, then? As Theo's mind whirled, the shield shattered into shards of pink light that dissolved into fizzling sparks. Then the zombies rushed in, their fetid stench and dark Levia drowning Theo's senses. Instinctively he flung himself to Victor's side and wrapped his arms tight around his brother.

Even without any spells, he could protect Victor with his body. But the zombies' hands closed around his arms, yanking him away from Victor, and no matter how he hard he screamed and thrashed, he couldn't break free from their grip. He could only watch in horror as the zombies swarmed his brother like flies to meat, obscuring every trace of black armor.

It was over, Theo realized. Truly over.