Novels by Nubian Monarch

“That is impossible.”Sylveth spoke the words first.For the first time since Draeven had met her, certainty had disappeared from her voice.The Veilmother stared into the abyss as if the thing below had shattered a truth she had spent years building her life around.The massive red eyes remained fixed on Draeven.Waiting. Watching. Enjoying the silence.Around the chamber, broken chains swayed slowly above the pit while black corruption crawled across the stone floor like spilled ink searching for cracks.Draeven rose from one knee. Blood still dripped from his nose. His head pounded from the flood of memories.Little brother.The words refused to leave him. He tightened his grip on Mournhook.“You have the wrong man.”The thing below laughed softly. The sound rolled through the chamber.“No,” it said. “I rarely forget family.”Oric looked from Draeven to the abyss.“Someone want to explain what that means?”“Not possible,” Severin said quietly.The executioner’s eyes narrowed.“Unle

Nobody moved.The darkness inside the abyss seemed alive now, shifting slowly around the two massive red eyes staring upward from below. Every chain still attached to the pit groaned under impossible tension while cracks spread across the stone floor around its edge.Draeven stood motionless. Not because of fear. Because something inside him recognized the presence beneath the mountain.The sensation felt wrong. Familiar. Like remembering a face he should never have known.Malgraves was the first to speak.“What is that thing?”The answer came from Sylveth.“The oldest prisoner in Europe.”Her voice remained steady despite the trembling chamber.“The first king.”Another laugh rolled upward from the abyss.Not loud. Worse. Amused. The sound vibrated through the stone beneath their feet.Draeven’s eyes never left the darkness.“You’ve spoken to it before.”Sylveth nodded.“Many times.”“Why?”“Because unlike the church, I wanted answers.”The red eyes shifted slightly. Watching all of

“Read the rest.”Sylveth’s voice carried calmly across the underground chamber while chains groaned beneath the abyss.Draeven stared at the parchment in his hands.The page looked old enough to crumble apart. Church seals marked the corners alongside signatures from clergy long buried beneath cathedral stone.But one signature stood above the others.Aurell Mordryn. His father. Draeven’s eyes stopped there. For several seconds he heard nothing except the slow pounding of blood inside his skull.Malgraves stepped closer carefully.“What is it?”Draeven handed him the document without answering. The priest’s face changed the moment he read the lower section.“God preserve us…”Oric looked between them anxiously.“What does it say?”Malgraves swallowed once before speaking.“It says the communion ritual required a blood relative to complete the binding.”The mountain seemed colder suddenly. Draeven looked toward Sylveth.“My father agreed to this?”“No,” she answered softly. “He volunte

The monastery gates stood open when they reached them. That disturbed Draeven more than the dead soldiers outside.Bodies covered the stone bridge leading into Blackwater Monastery. Some wore church armor. Others wore dark robes stitched with ritual markings. None of them had visible wounds.They looked emptied.Like something had hollowed them out from the inside. Snow drifted through the open gates into the courtyard while iron bells swayed overhead without wind.Oric stopped beside one of the corpses.“This man was alive when we passed the lower trail yesterday.”Malgraves crouched carefully beside the body. The priest touched two fingers against the dead man’s throat, then quickly pulled away.Cold black residue coated his glove.“Corruption spread through the bloodstream,” he muttered. “Fast.”Draeven studied the monastery windows above them.No movement. No guards. Nothing. That made him uneasy.Severin had vanished after the mountain shook, disappearing with half the surviving

By midday, the storm had swallowed the mountains whole.Snow hammered against the horses hard enough to blur the trail ahead while dead pine branches scraped across stone cliffs beside the narrow pass. The road climbing toward Blackwater Monastery looked less traveled the farther they went. Half-buried carts rested frozen beneath drifts, and old warning totems carved with church scripture leaned crookedly from the snow like grave markers.Draeven rode in silence at the front. The village behind them still clung to him. Not the bodies. The children. Fresh blood.The church was gathering them for something alive inside the monastery.That changed everything.Oric struggled to keep pace through the snow beside Malgraves’ horse. The boy refused help every time the priest offered it, though exhaustion dragged heavily across his face now.“You should ride before your legs freeze off,” Malgraves muttered.“I’m fine.”“You’re limping.”“I said I’m fine.”Draeven glanced back briefly. Pain sha

The bells continued through the night.Even deep in the mountains, the sound carried through the snow and dead trees in slow waves that made sleep impossible. Church warning bells always meant the same thing.Either something escaped. Or someone important had died.Draeven sat alone outside the stable with his coat open despite the cold. A small knife rested in his hand while black blood slid slowly from the cut across his forearm into the snow beneath his boots.The veins had spread farther.Thin black lines twisted beneath the skin from his wrist almost to his shoulder now, pulsing faintly whenever pain moved through them.He pressed heated metal against the wound. The flesh hissed. No reaction. He felt almost nothing anymore.“That is a terrible sign.”Malgraves stepped out of the stable carrying two steaming cups. The priest handed one over carefully before sitting beside him against the frozen fence.Draeven glanced at the drink.“What is it?”“Something pretending to be tea.”“S