Elijah Voss leaned against the cool metal of a half-buried subway pillar, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the rusting surface. The echoes of dripping water and shifting rubble surrounded him like a low hum of the forgotten. Somewhere above, the city of New York moved forward in its organized chaos. But down here, beneath the concrete veins of Brooklyn, it was quiet. Still. Exactly how he liked it.
He exhaled, watching the cold mist coil from his lips. The summoning the day before had drained him—not physically, not even magically. No, it was something else. Something deeper. Like a spiritual tether stretching just a little too far with each pull. He felt it behind his eyes, like a headache that hadn't fully arrived yet.
He opened his hand and stared at the mark burned into the skin—three crescent arcs forming a broken ring. One segment pulsed faintly, signaling Karu. Another shimmered violet—Vaelith. The third remained untouched, silent. Waiting.
His undead rogue, the Stalker, stirred in the shadows nearby. Silent, quick, and still as a grave. Its presence was barely perceptible unless Elijah Voss focused. It had been his first personal summon. His. Not Karu's, not Vaelith's.
And he still had one slot open.
The thought was heavy. Filling that second slot meant another ally, another tool—but also another weight.
"You're brooding again," came a familiar voice.
Elijah didn't even turn. "Karu. You know I like to mope dramatically. Adds to the whole necromancer mystique."
The Triad commander stepped into view, his cloak pulling the dim subway light into folds of darkness. His face was unreadable, but his presence sharp, always watching.
"You're distracted."
Elijah turned, brushing himself off. "Not distracted. Focused. There's a difference."
Karu said nothing, but the small tilt of his head suggested he didn't buy it.
"Where's Vaelith?" Elijah asked.
"She's cataloguing arcane runes on the Upper West Side. Found a collapsed cathedral. Spirits are whispering nonsense—she's enjoying herself."
"Of course she is." Elijah smirked. "Leave it to her to turn a haunted church into a playground."
Karu crossed his arms. "You said you were going to find your second summon."
Elijah nodded. "I did. And I will."
"Then do it," Karu said simply. "Waiting invites weakness."
"Thanks, Obi-Wan," Elijah muttered under his breath. "You done coaching me?"
Karu's gaze didn't waver. "I will remain nearby."
The Triad commander vanished into the gloom, as effortlessly as he'd appeared. Elijah didn't doubt he'd remain close—Karu always was, whether visible or not.
Elijah took a deep breath and stepped forward, down the ruined subway line. Every step echoed. Dust lifted from the tracks, disturbed after years of silence. The deeper he walked, the colder it grew. The Stalker followed silently, a few paces behind.
He was getting used to the quiet comfort of having his own. It wasn't loyalty bought—it was loyalty bound. Different. More meaningful.
He didn't know what he was looking for. Not exactly. The system never gave specifics—it was more about feel. The deeper into the abandoned line he moved, the stronger the pull in his chest. A subtle vibration in his bones. Instinct laced with something unnatural.
Then he heard it.
A sob.
It came from ahead, soft and wet, echoing through the cracked tile walls.
Elijah raised a hand, signaling the Stalker to halt. The creature obeyed instantly, melting into the shadows.
He approached slowly, fingers drifting near the hilt of the blade hanging from his back. Not his preferred weapon, but it was functional. Reliable. He didn't need flashy yet. Flashy got people killed early.
Around the corner, hunched beneath a half-collapsed beam, sat a childlike figure.
A girl.
Tattered dress. Barefoot. Her eyes were too large for her face, her limbs thin and fragile-looking. But Elijah Voss wasn't fooled.
She looked up as he neared, and her sobbing stopped instantly.
Her eyes were pitch black.
No sclera. No iris. Just endless void.
He stepped carefully. "Didn't think I'd find you like this."
She tilted her head. "You came for me?"
The voice wasn't hers. Not entirely. It was layered, doubled—like two mouths speaking through the same throat.
"I might've," Elijah said, watching her. "You alone down here?"
She stood slowly, and as she rose, her body shifted. Limbs cracking, stretching. Her shadow elongated across the walls unnaturally. Symbols bloomed beneath her feet like ink seeping through the floor.
Elijah didn't flinch. He could feel it now—raw necrotic energy radiating from her. It was unstable. Undisciplined. But incredibly potent.
"Name?" he asked.
The girl's face twitched. "I… don't have one."
Elijah exhaled and drew a small bone fragment from his coat pocket. The ritual token.
"Then I'll give you one."
He stepped forward, the mark on his hand glowing faintly.
"I offer you a name, in exchange for loyalty. A pact, not of chains, but of bond. You will walk with me, fight with me, fall with me."
The girl knelt without a word. Her hair floated in the air like it was submerged in water. The shadows wrapped around her like cloaks.
Elijah raised the bone fragment.
"Awaken."
The mark on his hand blazed as he thrust the token into the center of her chest.
The world pulsed. The subway roared to life with invisible wind. Dust exploded outward in a ring, and the lights above flickered violently.
When it all settled… she stood anew.
Her dress had transformed into layered ribbons of living shadow. Her eyes remained black, but now shimmered with violet cracks of light. Symbols ran up her arms like tattoos—arcane, shifting.
She smiled faintly.
[Elijah – Personal Summons: 2/2]
• Undead Stalker – Class: Rogue Revenant | Rank: F | Traits: Shadowmeld, Bone Dagger
• Undead Banshee – Class: Wailing Shade | Rank: F | Traits: Terror Cry, Soul Drain
The mark on his hand dimmed again, both of his segments full now. The broken ring of the Triad remained, but his own capacity was exhausted.
"For now," he said to himself.
The girl—no, the Banshee—floated a few inches above the floor, soundless. Her presence was icy but calm. Elijah could feel her pressing against his mind gently, curious. Like a cat pawing a locked door.
He welcomed it.
"Come on," he said, turning back toward the light. "Time to go bother Vaelith."
As they exited the ruins, Karu reappeared, eyes glancing toward the girl.
"She smells… wrong."
Elijah chuckled. "Compliment her again and she might drain your soul."
Karu didn't smile. He never did.
But he nodded once. Approval.
Vaelith awaited them at an abandoned chapel, her ashen wings spread behind her like a monument. Her gaze turned the moment they arrived.
"You've filled your roster," she said with a sly grin. "Let's hope you can keep them both alive."
Elijah folded his arms. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, professor."
Her eyes narrowed in amusement, but she said nothing.
The Banshee glided behind him and settled beside the Stalker, the two standing like sentinels. Different, yet aligned. One of blades, the other of shrieks.
His forces were small—but they were growing.
Two of the Triad stood beside him.
- Karu—discipline, formation, warfare.
- Vaelith—magic, corruption, spectral domination.
The third… still waiting in the dark.
Elijah took one final glance at the crescent symbol on his hand. Two segments darkened, one still untouched.
Soon.
He clenched his fist and turned toward the edge of the chapel, where a torn map of the city lay on a stone table.
"Next stop," he muttered, tracing his finger over a red circle marked in Queens.
The others stepped closer.
"What's there?" Vaelith asked.
"An anomaly," he said. "Rumors of a Beast-rank entity. People say it screams fire and doesn't cast a shadow."
Karu grunted. "A test?"
Elijah smirked. "A challenge. And maybe… a promotion."
Because if Elijah wanted to rise from F to E Rank, he needed more than talent. He needed notoriety. Feats. Kills. A reputation soaked in fear and awe alike.
He would build that step by step.
One corpse at a time.