Moonlight washed the cemetery in silver, turning every crooked headstone into a pale ghost. Hooves pounded through the wet grass — Lammy, still trapped in his lamb form, stumbled between the graves. Behind him, distant shouts and the howl of hounds drifted through the night; the lieutenant's men were still on his trail.
He skidded behind a crumbling angel statue and, heart hammering, willed the change. Bones cracked, fur melted away, and within seconds he was kneeling on the damp earth, a boy again. His breath came in sharp clouds. He pressed his palms into the soil, trying to stop the shaking.
He could still see Prince's face in his mind, bound and struggling inside the mansion. Praise, wide-eyed and terrified. Jed, trying to break free before the chains tightened. Lammy squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll come back… somehow."
A cold wind moved across the graveyard, rattling the dead leaves. He wrapped his arms around himself and forced his mind to focus. Run? Hide? Or fight? His magic was weak in human form, and every moment he lingered risked capture. Yet turning his back on them again felt like a knife.
He lifted his head — and froze. One of the oldest tombs ahead glimmered faintly with a strange, swirling sigil. Its glow pulsed like a heartbeat, throwing soft green light across the stones. He crept closer, hand hovering above it, the cold stone humming under his palm. A thought flickered through his mind — desperate, dangerous. What if I don't fight alone? What if the dead themselves rise?
He dug his fingers into the earth, whispering words he had only ever practised in secret. The sigil burned brighter, and from the ground around him a faint mist began to coil. Fingers of bone pushed through the soil. Hollow eye sockets opened in the dark.
A dozen skeletal figures clawed out from the graves, dripping mud and moonlight. They didn't look alive exactly, but their heads tilted toward Lammy, awaiting command.
A growl cut through the air. The lieutenant's hounds burst into the graveyard, followed by black-armoured Revenant soldiers. The undead shifted and hissed like dry leaves. Lammy's heart slammed against his ribs. I actually did it… but can I control them?
He shouted a word and the dead surged forward, colliding with the first wave of soldiers. Bones clashed with blades; the cemetery exploded into chaos. Lammy used the confusion to slip between the stones, heading back toward the mansion. Behind him the hounds howled and the elite hunter stepped into view, eyes burning with recognition.
Inside the mansion's basement, Prince, Praise and Jed hung from enchanted chains. The lieutenant walked a slow circle around them, his metal left arm glinting. "Two years ago you took my flesh," he said to Prince. "Tonight I take your freedom." Jed strained against his bonds but the chains pulsed with suppressing runes. Prince tried to send out a mind-whisper but met a wall of trained discipline.
Above, the night shifted. A cold wind howled down the corridors. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The lieutenant paused, frowning. Far off, a low thunder rolled — not from the sky but from the earth.
At the mansion's gates, Lammy appeared, no longer running but walking, his face pale with exhaustion, his eyes burning with resolve. Around him, the dead marched like a tide of bones and shadows, their weapons scavenged from the cemetery. The ground trembled under their steps.
Inside, the guards exchanged nervous glances. Chains rattled as Prince lifted his head, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. Somewhere in the dark, the elite hunter hissed an order. The lieutenant turned toward the entrance just as the first skeletal hand struck the door.
The iron gates groaned, and a thousand whispering voices filled the halls.
And then — nothing but silence before the storm.