The Glitched Mage

The flickering glow of abyssal flames cast shifting shadows across the vast chamber, illuminating the towering statues of Riven's generals and Velmorian in eerie, ever-moving light.

Elara turned to him, her violet eyes gleaming with something akin to reverence as she gestured toward the statues. "This temple was built after the fall of the Shadow Kingdom," she said, her voice filled with something close to awe. "A sanctuary for those who still walked the path of necromancy—a place where they could practice their craft without fear of persecution."

Riven tilted his head slightly, his smirk hidden behind a mask of casual intrigue. "A secret society of necromancers hiding inside the Solis Kingdom itself?" His voice was smooth, but there was a hint of amusement beneath it. "How… rebellious."

Elara nodded, completely missing his sarcasm. "Exactly. After the fall, the world turned against necromancers. Most were hunted, forced into hiding, or worse—executed. The Academy, the noble houses, the King himself—they wanted necromancy erased from history. But the truth is, you can't kill an art like this. You can't silence it forever."

Her gaze flickered over to the statue of Velmorian, admiration clear in her expression. "Velmorian's teachings survived. His vision survived. And now, after all these years, something incredible is happening."

Riven folded his arms, already knowing where this was going but playing along. "Oh?"

Elara inhaled sharply, and for the first time since he'd met her, she looked excited.

No—starstruck.

She clasped her hands together as if she were about to tell him the most groundbreaking piece of information he had ever heard.

"There's a new Shadow King!" she gushed, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

Riven blinked.

Nyx, still concealed within his shadow, stifled a strangled wheeze.

'Ohhh, this is gonna be good,' she whispered, her amusement rolling through their link.

Riven ignored her.

"Is that so?" he asked smoothly, tilting his head.

Elara beamed. "Yes! A true necromancer, a master of abyssal power, has begun rebuilding the Shadow Kingdom from its ruins! He's already gathering people, strengthening the land, and restoring the knowledge that was nearly lost."

Riven arched a brow. "And you're sure about this?"

Elara huffed, as if personally offended by his doubt. "Of course! Do you think I wouldn't research this? There are reports—whispers from traders, mercenaries, and even guilds. Not just rumors—evidence."

"Evidence," Riven echoed, glancing at the massive statues of his generals surrounding them. "Fascinating."

Nyx snorted in his shadow. 'You hearing this? Oh, mighty Shadow King? A legend in the making? A master of the abyss? A god among men?'

'Shut up,' Riven muttered under his breath.

Elara, oblivious to his inner suffering, kept going.

"He's brilliant," she said, practically swooning. "Cold, ruthless, incredibly powerful. A strategist like no other! He's already securing trade routes, fortifying his lands—and he made a deal with Duke Deveroux, did you hear about that?!"

"I have," Riven deadpanned.

Elara beamed. "Isn't it genius?! Instead of hiding, instead of trying to fight the nobles outright, he's manipulating them! Drawing them in, forcing them to work for him without even realizing it! This man is a visionary."

Nyx was wheezing. 'Oh gods, please—please let me tell Krux about this. He'll lose his mind.'

Riven clenched his jaw. 'Not. A. Word.'

Elara, still completely unaware, continued gushing. "And do you know what else? There are rumors that he's been expanding his power faster than anyone thought possible. Some say he's already reached the Fourth Circle—do you know how insane that is?! The Academy would kill to have a student like that, but he's out there, doing things no mage alive can even comprehend!"

Riven inhaled slowly through his nose, his expression impassive even as every single thing she was saying was about him.

"And yet," he said smoothly, "you're here, helping me."

Elara sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if she were about to make a great declaration. "I know you're gifted in necromancy, Riven. I saw it the moment I met you. But it's dangerous for someone like you to be alone—especially in a kingdom that would execute you if they found out."

Her voice softened. "You don't have to struggle in the dark, hiding what you are. Here, you can train. Grow stronger. You'll be safe."

Riven exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before offering Elara an easy, amused smile.

"You're very passionate about this Shadow King," he said.

Elara nodded firmly. "Of course! He's bringing back something the world tried to erase. He's proving that necromancy isn't just some 'evil magic' to be feared. He's a symbol."

"A symbol," Riven echoed.

"Exactly!" she said, her eyes bright with excitement. She clasped her hands behind her back, her expression turning serious again. "You have potential, Riven. I want to help you. If you train here, no one will suspect a thing. You won't have to worry about the King finding out that you're… well…"

"A necromancer?" he supplied, thoroughly entertained.

She nodded. "Exactly."

Riven smirked.

He let his gaze sweep across the chamber once more, taking in the towering statues, the flickering abyssal flames, the hooded figures whispering their dark incantations.

"Well," he said, exhaling in feigned consideration. "I suppose it would be a waste not to see what this place has to offer."

Elara smiled, clearly pleased.

Nyx cackled.

Riven resisted the urge to kick his own shadow.

The temple stretched deeper than Riven had anticipated. Towering archways loomed overhead, the ceiling disappearing into darkness, lined with chains that held glowing blue lanterns. The walls were inscribed with abyssal runes, shifting and pulsing faintly as if the magic itself was alive.

Elara walked with purpose, leading him through long, spiraling hallways filled with the quiet murmur of cloaked figures. Some stood in small circles, whispering incantations over ancient tomes, while others meditated in shadow-etched glyphs, their mana signatures barely restrained.

A place like this wasn't just hidden.

It was preserved.

A relic of an era thought long lost.

Elara glanced back at him. "Come. There's more to see."

Riven fell into step beside her, casting a brief glance at the figures who watched from beneath their hoods. The air here carried a weight to it, thick with magic, with history. Every inch of this place spoke of its defiance—of its survival.

Nyx, still concealed in his shadow, muttered, 'So let me get this straight. They built an entire temple dedicated to us, and they don't even know their so-called 'new Shadow King' is currently taking a tour?'

Riven didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Because, yes. That was exactly what was happening.

His gaze flicked toward Elara. 'And she was so damn earnest about it too.'

"So," he said casually as they walked. "How exactly do you fit into all this? I get the whole 'necromancer preservation society' thing, but I wouldn't have taken you for a historian."

Elara hummed, running her fingers along the stone wall as they moved. "My role is… complicated."

"Enlighten me."

She shot him a sidelong glance, a faint smile playing at her lips. "I don't often talk about it."

"That just makes me more curious."

Elara exhaled, then gestured toward a massive, arched doorway ahead. "Let's continue this conversation inside."

Riven followed her through the threshold, stepping into what could only be described as a grand hall of records.

The walls were lined with shelves—towering structures made of dark, polished wood, packed with scrolls and leather-bound tomes, some older than the kingdom itself.

At the center of the room sat a massive, circular table, its surface carved with a map of the known world.

But something was different.

Riven stepped closer.

It wasn't just the Solis Kingdom and its neighbors displayed here.

There—etched into the stone, darkened and worn by time—was his kingdom. The Shadow Kingdom.

Not as ruins. Not as myth.

But as it had been.

Whole.

Riven traced a hand over the map, his mind quiet, yet sharp.

They had remembered.

The world may have tried to erase the Shadow kingdom, but here, it had been kept alive.

Elara's voice broke the silence. "This temple isn't just a place to train, Riven. It's a vault. A sanctuary for history, for power. We don't just teach necromancy—we preserve it."

She stepped beside him, her violet eyes dark with something unreadable. "You asked how I fit into this?" She placed a hand against the ancient stone. "I'm the one making sure it doesn't disappear again."

Riven turned to her, interest flickering across his features. "You really believe that?"

Elara's lips curved into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. "I was just a child when the Solis Kingdom razed the Shadow Kingdom," she murmured, her voice quieter now. "My father was a necromancer—he had fallen in love with my mother, a woman from Solis. He was visiting his homeland when the war began… and he never returned.

Riven studied her for a moment, the flickering abyssal light casting shifting shadows across her face. There was something raw beneath her words—not just conviction, but loss. A wound left unhealed by time.

"And your mother?" he asked, voice unreadable.

Elara exhaled, fingers trailing absentmindedly over the etched stone of the map. "She tried to keep me safe. She told me to hide what I was, to never speak of my father's magic. But I had already seen too much. I knew what he was, what he could do. And more than anything, I knew he hadn't been a monster." Her violet eyes darkened. "The Solis Kingdom wanted people to believe necromancers were abominations. That they were dangerous, uncontrollable. But my father… he was kind. He healed the sick. He guided lost souls. He used his power to help people."

Riven's expression didn't change, but inside, he filed that information away.

A necromancer who healed rather than destroyed? It was common knowledge that earth magic possessed restorative properties—but necromancy? He supposed it was possible. Magic had no true limits, only the constraints imposed by understanding and will. And yet, given how the world feared those who wielded death, it was no surprise that such practices had been buried beneath centuries of superstition and suppression.

"So you joined this place," Riven mused, his tone light. "Carved out a little rebellion in the heart of the kingdom that wanted our kind dead."

Elara smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "I didn't find this place. It found me. The ones who built it… they were the last remnants of Velmorian's followers, those who had survived the war. They took me in, taught me, showed me what the world had tried to erase." Her gaze flicked to him, sharp yet unreadable. "And now, I do the same. I find those with talent, those who would be hunted for their gifts, and I offer them a place where they can truly belong."

Riven let out a slow breath, amusement curling at the edges of his lips. "So, what, you're a recruiter now?"

Elara huffed a laugh. "If you want to put it that way, fine. But it's more than that." She gestured toward the towering bookshelves that lined the grand hall. "We don't just preserve necromancy. We evolve it. Refine it. Push it beyond what even Velmorian once imagined. This isn't just about survival anymore. It's about reclaiming what was stolen from us."

Riven's gaze flicked over the endless rows of tomes, scrolls, and relics. The weight of history pressed against him, thick and tangible. The world may have tried to erase the Shadow Kingdom and necromancy, but here, its legacy still breathed.

Nyx, still concealed in his shadow, muttered, 'Oh, she'd lose her mind if she knew she was trying to recruit the guy she's been fangirling over for the last twenty minutes.'

Riven resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Enjoying yourself?' he murmured internally.

'Immensely.' Nyx's grin was practically audible.

Shaking his head, Riven turned back to Elara, his smirk returning. "And you think I belong here?"

"I think you deserve a chance to grow," Elara corrected. "To wield your power without fear."

Riven tilted his head, watching her closely. "And what if I told you I wasn't afraid?"

She studied him for a long moment, then smiled. "Then I'd say you were lying."

Riven chuckled under his breath. She didn't know just how wrong she was.

Still, he had to admit—this place intrigued him. A hidden temple of necromancers, growing in the shadows of the kingdom that had tried to destroy them? The irony was almost poetic. Having more power join and protect his kingdom was definitely tempting.

And perhaps, just perhaps, there was something here worth learning.

He exhaled, turning back to the map. His gaze lingered on the etched lines of the Shadow Kingdom, the memory of its ruins burned into his mind.

"Alright," he said at last, amusement laced in his voice. "Show me what you've got."

Elara's eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction as she turned, her smile laced with knowing amusement. Without another word, she led Riven deeper into the temple's heart.

The corridors narrowed as they descended, the flickering mana lanterns casting restless, shifting shadows along the carved stone walls. The further they walked, the heavier the air became—thick with ancient magic, steeped in the lingering echoes of the past. A presence clung to the space, something neither fully alive nor entirely gone, watching from the unseen corners of the sanctum.

Riven walked with casual ease, but his mind was working in overdrive. This place—it wasn't just a sanctuary. It was a fortress of knowledge. The Solis Kingdom had spent years erasing necromancy, branding it as something unnatural, something to be feared. Yet, right beneath their noses, an entire network of practitioners had thrived in the dark.

It was impressive.

But it also begged the question—how had they remained undiscovered for so long?

Elara stopped before a large set of iron doors, each one carved with intricate runes. With a flick of her wrist, she pressed a hand against the surface, and the runes flared to life. A pulse of dark energy rippled through the air before the doors groaned open, revealing a vast chamber beyond.

Riven's gaze swept the room.

This was different from the rest of the temple.

Unlike the grand halls filled with towering bookshelves and relics, this chamber was something else entirely. A training ground.

Rows of necromancers stood in formation, their robes shifting like shadows as they worked through controlled exercises. Some manipulated wraith-like figures with practiced precision, while others wove intricate glyphs into the air, binding spectral entities into temporary servitude. At the far end, a group was experimenting with what looked like abyssal constructs—twisted creatures made of raw mana and darkness.

This wasn't a place of study.

This was a place of refinement.

And power.

Elara stepped aside, letting Riven take it all in. "This is where the real work happens," she said, watching him carefully. "Books and theory will only take a necromancer so far. Mastery comes from control, from understanding the balance between life and death."

Riven hummed, crossing his arms as he observed. These necromancers weren't just surviving—they were evolving. Their techniques were unlike anything he had seen at the Academy, more fluid, more instinctual.

More dangerous.

Nyx let out a low whistle from his shadow. 'Alright, I'll admit it—that's kind of impressive. A whole underground army, just waiting to rise.'

Riven didn't respond, but he couldn't deny the potential here. If these necromancers could be persuaded, if they could be brought under the Shadow Kingdom's banner…

The thought alone was interesting.

Elara crossed her arms. "What do you think?"

Riven tilted his head slightly. "Not bad." He glanced at her. "But I imagine not just anyone can walk in here and start training."

Elara's lips quirked. "No, they can't. Every necromancer who trains here is either chosen or has proven themselves worthy of our teachings. We don't take in just anyone with a talent for death magic."

Riven arched a brow. "And yet, here I am."

She smiled. "Consider yourself a special case."

He chuckled. "How generous."

Elara's gaze didn't waver. "I meant what I said, Riven. You have potential. I don't know where you learned what you know, but you're far ahead of most who come here. If you train with us, you won't have to hold back anymore."

Nyx snickered. 'Oh, if only she knew.'

Riven resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Instead, he focused on the training necromancers before him. Some were weaving curses into their shadows, others perfecting the delicate art of binding spirits to physical vessels. A handful were engaged in controlled duels, their spectral weapons clashing with eerie precision.

One, in particular, caught his attention.

A young woman stood near the center of the chamber, her hands outstretched as a translucent wraith coiled around her like a serpent. Its form flickered between states, not quite bound yet not entirely free. With each motion of her hands, the wraith twitched, its movements smoother, more refined.

Then, with a final gesture, she solidified it into a spectral blade in her grasp.

Riven watched as she took a stance, her form disciplined, her control unwavering.

Elara noticed his interest. "That's Soraya," she said. "One of our most skilled summoners."

"Hmm." Riven studied her technique. It wasn't just impressive—it was precise.

She moved with a grace that spoke of years of practice, her connection to the wraith effortless.

Elara continued. "She specializes in binding spirits into weapons. Unlike most necromancers, she doesn't just summon them—she forges them."

"Interesting," Riven murmured.

He had seen something similar before—his generals had wielded weapons infused with abyssal spirits, using them to strike down their enemies with terrifying efficiency.

But this? This was raw talent honed to perfection.

Nyx hummed in his shadow. 'She's good. Still wouldn't last ten seconds against you, though.'

Riven smirked slightly. Probably not.

Elara gestured for him to follow. "Come. There's one more thing I want to show you."

They moved past the training area, descending a set of spiral stairs that led even deeper beneath the temple. The walls here were older, the runes carved into the stone far more ancient. The deeper they went, the more the air changed—heavier, charged with something powerful yet restrained.

At the base of the stairs, another door loomed before them, sealed with intricate abyssal locks.

Elara placed a hand against it, and the runes reacted immediately, twisting and unraveling like serpents slithering away from a predator.

With a slow, grinding sound, the door opened.

Riven stepped inside—and for the first time in a long while, he paused.

The chamber was vast, lined with six towering monoliths, each one carved with abyssal inscriptions. In the center, a single platform pulsed with power, its surface marked with complex formations.

And standing above it all—suspended in an eerie, ethereal glow—was a book.

Not just any book.

A tome bound in what looked like shadow itself, its cover shifting, writhing, as if resisting the very space it existed in.

Elara stepped forward, her gaze locked on the floating tome with something bordering reverence. "This," she said, voice quiet with awe, "is the Codex of the Fallen. One of the last surviving records of necromantic magic from the Shadow Kingdom."

Riven's eyes flickered with interest. "And you've just been keeping it here?"

She nodded. "It's too dangerous to be anywhere else. Even those who train here aren't allowed to touch it—not without proving themselves."

Riven took a slow step closer, feeling the weight of its presence pressing against his mana heart. This book… it wasn't just powerful.

It was alive.

Nyx voice trembled, laced with something between awe and disbelief. 'How… how the hell is this here?!'

Riven frowned at the rare seriousness in her tone. 'You recognize this book?'

'Recognize it?' Nyx's voice was almost frantic, her shadow quivering beneath him as if barely restraining herself. 'That's Velmorian's personal grimoire! Do you have any idea what you're looking at?! He recorded everything in there—personal accounts, kingdom blueprints, plans for the future. Every necromantic spell he ever created or refined is in those pages!'

Riven's gaze on the book sharpened.

'Every single page was inscribed by his own hand,' Nyx continued, her voice bordering on reverence. 'This isn't just a record, Riven. It's Velmorian's mind, laid bare.'

Riven exhaled slowly, his gaze locked onto the floating tome. He could feel it—a pulse of power, restrained yet immense, as if the book itself was barely holding back the weight of everything inscribed within its pages.

Velmorian's personal grimoire.

His entire mind, his plans, his magic, laid bare.

And it had been sitting here, untouched, guarded by those who didn't even realize that the one person who had the right to claim it was standing right in front of them.

'If I take it now, will the whole room come crashing down?' Riven asked dryly through his link with Nyx. His gaze flicked to the shadowy tendrils writhing from the book, stretching toward the cold stone walls and ceiling like anchor points—twisting, pulsing, as if they were the only thing keeping the chamber from collapsing in on itself.

Nyx was still vibrating in his shadow, barely containing herself. 'I don't care—take it anyway.'

Elara, completely oblivious to the conversation, watched him carefully. "This tome contains the last remaining knowledge of the true Shadow Kingdom. Spells that no longer exist in modern necromancy. Techniques that could rival even the greatest Archmages of our time."

She took a slow breath, as if even standing near it was a privilege. "No one has been able to unlock its full contents," she admitted. "It is bound by an ancient protection, one that requires… something more than just raw power." Her violet eyes flickered with curiosity. "I had a feeling, Riven, that if anyone could at least touch it without being cursed into oblivion, it would be you."

Riven arched a brow, glancing at the hovering book. "That's quite a gamble."

Elara smirked slightly. "Magic is always a gamble. But you seem like someone who plays the odds well."

Riven hummed, his fingers twitching slightly at his side. His shadows stretched faintly toward the book, feeling the sheer abyssal weight of it. If this truly was Velmorian's mind laid bare, then it was a treasure beyond anything the Academy or the Solis Kingdom could ever offer him.

But… he couldn't take it. Not yet.

If he just reached out and claimed it without a second thought, Elara would start asking questions—questions he wasn't ready to answer.

And while this place held promise, he had no intention of revealing his rule just yet. Especially not when the Archmage was involved—trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not unless it was absolute — or they were under his command, whether in life or in death.

So instead, he smirked and took a slow step back. "As much as I love the idea of testing ancient curses on myself, I think I'll pass."

Elara blinked, clearly surprised. "You're not interested?"

Nyx all but screamed in his mind. 'WHAT?!'

Riven ignored her. "Oh, I'm interested," he admitted easily, folding his arms. "But I'm also not an idiot. If no one has unlocked it in all this time, then simply touching it isn't going to get me anywhere."

Elara exhaled, as if relieved. "Good. You're smarter than most." Her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer before she turned toward the floating tome once more. "I've spent years researching the locks placed on it. There are theories that only someone with a direct connection to Velmorian's legacy could access it."

Riven didn't react, but inwardly, he filed that information away.

So the book would recognize him.

That was good to know.

Elara gestured toward the exit, clearly satisfied with his reaction. "Come. There's still more I want to show you."

As she led him back toward the stairway, Riven let out a slow breath, his mind already spinning with possibilities.

Velmorian's grimoire was within his reach.

It was only a matter of time before it was his.