One month

The mausoleum was silent.

The kind of silence that only came after a storm, thick with the weight of something unspoken. The moment Riven and Nyx stepped inside, the air itself seemed to recoil, sensing the fury simmering beneath his skin.

Riven didn't bother suppressing it.

He strode deeper into the ancient chamber, his movements precise, controlled—but the shadows around him betrayed his restraint. They coiled violently, writhing against the stone walls, feeding off the abyssal energy leaking from him.

The king's words echoed in his mind.

"Necromancers, those who tamper with the dead, must be rooted out and dealt with before their corruption spreads."

His fingers curled into fists, abyssal fire sparking along his knuckles.

That self-righteous bastard.