In a matter of seconds, the gray ash had completely rebuilt the body of a man.The man looked exactly as he had on the day he died. He had a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and a tall frame. But his skin was not pink or brown. His skin was made of solid, compressed gray ash. He looked like a living, moving statue.The ash-man slowly opened his eyes.His eyes were not empty. They did not glow with bright red anger. They burned with a tiny, calm, pale gray fire.The man did not scream. He simply reached down to the ground. His ash-covered fingers grabbed the handle of a rusted iron sword. He picked the sword up.He stood perfectly straight. He raised his chin. He held the sword by his side.He stood at attention, just like a loyal soldier waiting for his commander to give an order.He was not a mindless monster. He was an echo.The Ash Warden had fed on the memories of the world for a thousand years. The dark god remembered exactly who this soldier was. It remembered his loyalty. It rememb

"Valen," Caster whispered. His raspy voice caught in his throat.Valen Cross was supposed to be dead.Ten years ago, Valen Cross was the smartest, most ruthless investigator the High Council had ever employed. He was the man who found out people's secrets. He was the man who made the Council's enemies disappear in the middle of the night.But Valen had asked too many questions. He had started looking into the deep leylines. He had found out about the dark waste being pushed into the earth. Archmage Vane had ordered him killed to keep the secret safe. The whole Tower had been told that Valen Cross died in a terrible magical accident in a lower laboratory."You look like you have seen a ghost, Caster," Valen said, stepping fully into the dim blue light of the glowing scrolls. He smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes."Vane told us you burned in an alchemy fire," Caster said softly. He kept his hands perfectly still by his sides. He had no magic to fight this man. A single silver

Silas recognized the shape. He had seen strange markings like that on the old, forbidden posters the Tower Guards sometimes tore down. It was a Blackthorn rune. It was the dark, twisted language of the Ash Plane.Next to the blacksmith, the ash-woman was doing the same thing. She was carving a massive circle into the wall. The two small ash-children were kneeling in the dirty water, carving sharp triangles into the stone floor.They moved in perfect, terrifying silence. There was no talking. There were no orders being shouted. They all knew exactly what to do. They worked together like a hive of perfect, silent bees.Silas watched, completely mesmerized by the horror.As they carved the runes, the jagged lines began to glow. They pulsed with a deep, bruised purple light.The purple light spread. It crawled up the walls. It connected the circle to the triangles. It connected the triangles to the jagged lines.They were building a net."They are drawing a map," Silas realized, his mind

The massive stone node in the center of the room was fully alive. It was pulsing with a blinding, heavy dark light. It looked like a dark sun burning underground. The purple energy flowed out of the node and raced down the carved lines in the floor, connecting to the runes in the sewers, connecting to the deep caves below.The new lattice was complete. The entire underground of the capital city was now a single, massive, living machine. The Ash Warden was fully in control of the earth.Silas groaned and tried to sit up. His head was bleeding. He looked toward the center of the room.The blinding purple light faded slightly. The dark sun hummed a steady, terrifying tune. And then, Silas saw them.The hundreds of ash-people standing in the circle had not moved during the explosion. They had stayed perfectly still. But now, they were moving.They all turned their heads at the exact same time.Hundreds of glowing, pale gray eyes locked directly onto the dark corner where Silas was lying.

"Grave robbers do not steal ten thousand skeletons," Caster said. His voice was hollow. It sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well. "And grave robbers do not carve Blackthorn runes into the stone."Caster leaned heavily against the black glass table. His legs felt weak. He felt like he was going to be sick.He grabbed a piece of blank white paper from the table. He grabbed a piece of black charcoal."Valen," Caster said quickly. His hands were shaking violently. "Show me on a map. Show me exactly where the bodies are missing. Show me exactly where the temperature dropped."Valen saw the panic in Caster’s face. Valen did not argue. He reached under the table and pulled out a large, heavy map of the capital city. He spread it flat across the glass."Here," Valen said, pointing a long finger at the map. "The Nameless Crypts are here, in the far west."Caster drew a heavy black dot on the map."The frozen sewers are here, in the south," Valen pointed again.Caster drew a