The Hollow King’s Trial

The darkness swallowed Liora whole.

It wasn't the comforting kind of dark—the type that wrapped around her like a familiar cloak when she called upon the dead. No, this was endless, hungry, a void that pressed in from all sides, sinking its claws into her soul.

She couldn't see. Couldn't hear.

And then, suddenly—

She could.

A vast battlefield stretched before her, littered with corpses in various states of decay. Some had rotted beyond recognition, their bones glistening under a blood-red sky. Others were fresh, eyes still frozen in terror, weapons still clenched in stiff fingers.

Liora's breath hitched.

She knew this place.

Not because she'd been here before, but because it was burned into the memories of necromancers across time. The stories, the warnings—this was Velkar's Final Stand.

She turned, searching for Alaric, but he was gone.

No.

Not gone.

He had never been here in the first place.

This was Velkar's domain now.

"Do you understand yet?"

The voice echoed from behind her, ancient and unwavering.

Liora spun around.

Velkar stood atop a hill of bones, his skeletal frame towering over the dead. But unlike before, he was whole—flesh restored, armor gleaming in the eerie red light. His crown, once rusted and broken, shone with an unnatural black aura, shifting like smoke.

He looked less like a king and more like a god of war.

Liora clenched her fists. "You pulled me into a vision. Why?"

Velkar descended from his throne of the dead with slow, deliberate steps. "Because knowledge is wasted without experience." His eyes, dark pits of endless hunger, burned into hers. "You claim you wish to master death, but you do not yet understand its true cost."

Liora squared her shoulders. "I've faced death more times than I can count. I know what it takes."

Velkar chuckled, a cold, hollow sound. "Do you? Then prove it."

He raised a hand, and the battlefield shifted.

The corpses began to move.

They rose in waves—an army of the dead unlike anything Liora had ever seen. Not the sluggish, decayed husks she had battled before. These were warriors, reanimated with precision, their bones reinforced with some dark magic she couldn't yet grasp.

Their armor clanked as they stood. Their weapons gleamed—not rusted relics, but blades sharpened as if never abandoned.

And worst of all…

Their eyes.

They weren't hollow. They weren't empty. They watched her, filled with something more than undeath.

Velkar extended his hand. "This is your trial, necromancer. You wish to master death?" His voice dropped, curling into something almost amused. "Then let's see if death will let you."

The first warrior charged.

Liora barely had time to react before steel met steel.

She ducked, twisting as the undead knight's sword sliced through the air where her head had been. Rolling aside, she lashed out with her magic, reaching into the void to seize control of the warrior's body.

Nothing happened.

Her heart skipped.

The knight whirled back, blade flashing. She barely raised a barrier of shadows in time, the impact sending a jolt through her bones.

They were resisting her control.

How?

Velkar's laughter echoed. "You cannot raise what does not wish to be raised, child. These are not mindless husks. They were warriors in life, and they remain warriors in death."

The knight lunged again. Liora gritted her teeth, sidestepping and sending a shockwave of necrotic energy in his direction. It struck his armor, splintering it, but the knight didn't stop. He moved as though pain was a foreign concept.

Liora ducked another swing. Another. A third.

Then—

A second warrior lunged at her from behind.

She barely spun in time, her staff colliding with his spear. But even as she held her ground, another figure rose from the mass. And another. And another.

Dozens.

No—hundreds.

She was surrounded.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. This was impossible. She couldn't fight them all. She needed to command them—but she couldn't.

The power of the dead was slipping from her fingers like sand through an open palm.

She wasn't in control here.

Velkar's voice curled through the battlefield like smoke. "You fight like a child who does not yet understand her own hunger."

She grit her teeth. "Then tell me what I'm missing."

Velkar lifted his hand—and the army froze.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the howling wind.

He descended the last steps of his throne of bones, stopping just inches from her. Too close. His presence felt like a void in the air, something that pulled and pulled without ever being filled.

"Tell me, Liora—what is the first law of death?"

She hesitated. "The dead obey the will of the necromancer."

Velkar smirked. "Wrong."

He thrust a hand forward, and the world lurched.

Liora's breath caught—she couldn't move. Something crushed her limbs, not physically, but through pure will.

"The first law of death is this—" Velkar's voice boomed, filling the entire void.

"The dead do not obey."

Pain seared through her skull. Her knees buckled.

"The dead are not servants. They are not puppets. They are hunters. And the moment you falter, the moment you show weakness—"

The army's eyes flashed.

"They will turn on you."

Liora gasped, her vision darkening.

No.

No, she wouldn't—

She couldn't—

A spark flared deep within her chest.

Not fear.

Defiance.

Her teeth clenched. Her vision sharpened.

She ripped her body free from Velkar's grip, staggering but standing tall.

She turned to the army, inhaling deeply—then she unleashed.

Dark energy poured from her in a wave, surging over the battlefield. Not to control. Not to command.

To conquer.

The first warrior staggered, then another. Their movements halted, eyes flickering with hesitation.

Velkar chuckled. "Better."

Liora's breaths came heavy. The energy within her still clawed at the edges of her control, but she held firm.

She met Velkar's gaze.

"Again."

Velkar grinned. "Very well."

He snapped his fingers.

The dead charged.