Thorne Mire's Arc

Chapter 1 of 10

Thorne Mire pressed her bare feet into the wet moss and watched the mist curl around her ankles. The swamp stretched out before her, dark water reflecting twisted trees. She had lived here her whole life, and she would protect it. To do that, she needed to master necromancy. She needed to raise the dead. Through the fog, she spotted it. A mansion stood at the swamp's edge, half-swallowed by vines and bramble. Iron bars covered the windows like teeth. The roof sagged in places, but the walls looked solid. Thorne moved toward it, her dagger loose in her hand. The building had been empty for years, forgotten by the world outside. Inside those dark rooms, she could practice her magic without fear. She could command the dead to rise. She could make her swamp safe. Thorne climbed the rotting steps and pushed open the door. This place would be hers now. Her fortress. Her home. Inside, dust covered everything. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling in thick sheets. Thorne walked through each room, testing the floors with careful steps. The mansion had good bones beneath the rot. In the back room, she found a table large enough for her work. She could study here. She could practice the words of power that would wake the dead. The iron bars on the windows would keep unwanted eyes away. No one would disturb her learning. She stepped back outside as the sun began to set. At the edge of her swamp, she gathered what she needed. Bones from the marsh. Vines thick and green with swamp life. She twisted them together until they formed a body, crude but solid. The figure stood crooked, holding a weathered sign she'd found near the water. "No Trespassing," it read. Thorne spoke the first words of her craft, feeling them burn in her throat. The bone figure shuddered. Its empty skull turned toward her. One guardian raised. The first of many to come. But one guardian was not enough. The swamp was large, and she needed more materials. More bones meant more protectors. Thorne walked deeper into the marsh until she found what remained of an old horse, its skeleton half-buried in the mud. She pulled the bones free and cleaned them in the dark water. The skull came next, then the legs. She worked until the skeletal horse stood before her, held together with twisted swamp vines. Burlap packs hung from its frame, ready to carry what she would collect. She spoke the words again, and the creature's jaw clicked open. It would follow her now, gathering bones wherever she led it. With this helper, she could build an army fast enough to keep her swamp safe from anyone who dared enter.