6:22 a.m. – Lower Manhattan, Abandoned Hotel Rooftop
The sky burned orange behind the clouds, casting a dull glow over the jagged skyline. Ezra stood on the edge of the roof, cold wind slicing across his face. Below, the city moved like it always had—taxis honking, steam rising from vents, people rushing as if the world wasn't broken beneath them.
He clenched the railing.
Three corpses stood behind him, unmoving.
Their eyes glowed faintly. Bones creaked. One of them—the guy with the shattered neck—kept twitching like something inside still fought back.
Ezra didn't breathe for a long moment.
"What the hell am I?"
"You're asking that now?" Selene's voice came from behind. She stepped out of the stairwell, a paper bag in her hand. "You raised three grown men from death less than six hours after dying. I'd be asking better questions."
He turned to her, eyes tired. "Like?"
"Like: why didn't you rot when you came back?"
Ezra stared.
She tossed him the bag. Inside: a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich from the deli. "Eat. Then we talk."
He didn't argue. His stomach did that for him. A few bites later, the sandwich was gone.
Selene leaned against the rail. Her coat was too clean for someone who'd bled the night before. Her eyes were sharper in daylight—gray, almost silver. Not natural.
"You're not from here," Ezra said.
"I live here."
"That's not what I meant."
Selene hesitated, then sighed. "I'm part of the Ashwalkers."
Ezra blinked. "Sounds like a cult."
She smirked. "Almost. We're a rogue guild. Not recognized by the City. We take in outcasts. Run missions too dirty for the sanctioned ones. And we don't bow to the Guild Authority."
"Why help me?"
"You're Gravebound. No one else will."
He studied her face. She wasn't lying. But she wasn't telling the full truth either.
"And the undead?" Ezra asked, jerking a thumb at the three behind him. "They haven't spoken. Haven't moved. What now?"
"You command them. You're their anchor."
"I didn't give them names. Didn't ask them to follow me."
Selene turned to him, face serious. "Necromancy is about will. You don't control them with words—you control them with purpose. Doubt yourself, they falter. Fear them, they turn."
Ezra swallowed.
She walked over to the corpses. "Stand down," she ordered.
Nothing happened.
"They don't obey me," she said. "Only you."
He stepped forward. Focused. The tendrils returned—violet threads wrapping his fingertips. He didn't speak, but willed it: Rest.
All three collapsed at once.
Ezra exhaled. "Shit."
"You'll learn," Selene said.
"Learn what? I've never fought with magic. I've never trained. I can't even read my stats!"
She lifted her wrist. A glowing blue screen flickered to life—a Veil Interface. Ezra looked at his own hand. Nothing.
"You're unranked," Selene said. "The System isn't stable around you. Probably because you weren't chosen naturally. Your abilities will come slowly. Piece by piece."
"So what do I do now? Hide?"
She hesitated. "No. You train. You fight. You get stronger."
Ezra looked at her. "Why do you care?"
Selene's jaw tightened. "Because my brother was Gravebound too."
Ezra's stomach dropped. "Was?"
"They hunted him," she said softly. "The Guild. The Bastion Church. The Noble Rings. Everyone. He never even had a chance."
"What happened?"
"They burned him alive."
Silence hung between them. Ezra looked away.
"I'm not him," he finally said.
"No," Selene agreed. "You're not. But they'll still come for you the same way."
9:13 a.m. – Guild Authority HQ, Upper Manhattan
Glass towers stabbed into the sky. The Veil shimmered around the building like a living wall, runes etched across every panel. Inside, men and women in long black coats moved with military precision.
In the center of the operations floor, a massive monitor played back footage from a hidden drone—grainy, but clear enough.
Target: Ezra Quinn
Class Signature: Undocumented. Likely Forbidden. Gravebound.
Status: Undetected
Danger Level: Red
Recommendation: Immediate Elimination
A man with a white cloak entered the room. His hair was red as fresh blood. His eyes gold and unnatural.
He was fire wrapped in flesh.
"New Gravebound?" he asked.
"Yes, Inquisitor Vance," replied the analyst.
Vance's smile was razor thin. "Activate Flame Protocol."
"But sir, he's unranked—"
"Unranked necromancers become problems. I'd rather scorch a rat's nest before it fills."
"Understood."
Vance turned, walking away. "Prepare a Phoenix Squad. Full authorization. If the Ashwalkers are sheltering him… kill them too."
11:47 a.m. – Ashwalker Safehouse, Midtown
Ezra panted as his fist drove into a training dummy wrapped in duct tape. Selene stood nearby, watching.
"Again."
He hit it.
"Again."
He hit it harder. The dummy rocked.
"Again."
He screamed and slammed a punch that shattered the wooden pole inside. The top half dropped to the floor.
Selene raised a brow. "Your strength stat isn't even formalized yet. That was pure will."
"Or rage," Ezra muttered.
She walked over and tossed him a bottle. "Channel it. Don't drown in it."
"Easier said than done."
She leaned against the wall. "Pain is an old friend of necromancers. You'll get used to it."
Ezra glanced at her. "So… your brother. Was he like me?"
"No. He was better," she said quietly. "He wasn't afraid of what he was. He embraced it. That's why they feared him."
"And you?"
"I still run from it some days."
Ezra paused. "Why help me, Selene? Really?"
She didn't answer immediately. When she did, it was barely a whisper.
"Because when I looked at you in that alley… I saw him."
Their eyes met.
Ezra didn't look away.
Something passed between them then—grief, understanding, something unspoken. In the echo of silence, the tension curled tight like a thread about to snap.
Selene stepped back. "We're done for today."
"You sure?"
She smirked faintly. "Unless you want me to break your ribs again."
Ezra winced. "I said I was sorry. I heal fast,"
she said. "You won't next time."
1:03 p.m. – Rooftop Perimeter
A cold wind howled across the ledge. One of the undead—No-Neck, Ezra had started calling him—stood like a statue near the edge, eyes scanning.
Ezra approached him cautiously. "Do you… think?"
No answer.
"Do you remember who you were?"
Silence.
Ezra sat down beside the corpse. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know if I should want this power."
Still no reply.
And then—
A whisper. Barely audible.
"…quinn…"
Ezra shot to his feet. "What did you say?"
The corpse didn't move.
But something flickered in its gaze.
They're learning, Ezra realized.
A chill ran down his spine.
1:40 p.m. – Ashwalker Hallway
Selene walked through the corridor, a datachip in hand. She inserted it into the safehouse terminal.
The screen flared.
ALERT: Gravebound Signature Detected Within 5km Radius
Status: Confirmed. Ezra Quinn. Unranked
System Instability: High
Threat Level Escalated
Flame Protocol Engaged
Inquisitor Dispatched.
Selene's eyes widened.
"No…"
1:52 p.m. – Rooftop
Ezra turned as Selene burst through the door. "What's wrong?"
"We have to go. Now."
"Why?"
"Phoenix Squad is coming."
"Who?"
Before she could answer, the sky split open in flame.
A missile shrieked down from the clouds, striking the rooftop's far side. Concrete exploded. Fire engulfed the undead. Ezra was thrown backward, crashing into a vent.
Smoke filled the air.
From above, four figures descended on cables—cloaked in armor that shimmered red-gold, bearing flamethrowers and bladed weapons pulsing with molten energy.
Ezra's ears rang. He couldn't breathe.
Selene grabbed him. "MOVE!"
One of the undead—No-Neck—charged the nearest intruder.
Flames erupted.
No-Neck screamed. Not in pain.
In rage.
Ezra stared in horror. The undead was screaming like a man.
Then it was gone. Ash.
Ezra turned to run, but a blast of fire caught him mid-back. He dropped, rolling, skin seared.
Pain. Too much.
Selene drew two daggers and vanished in a shimmer, reappearing behind one of the attackers and slashing his neck.
But there were too many.
And then…
A man landed at the edge of the rooftop.
Not flying.
Falling.
His boots cracked the concrete.
Inquisitor Vance.
Hair like blood. Eyes like suns.
"I see you, little necromancer," he said softly. "Time to put you back in your grave."