A man in dark armor casts blue lightning in a ruined chamber as skeletal figures float in fiery portals.

Book I: The Echoes of Arkenfell - Chapter One The air in the collapsing chamber crackled with residual power, the acrid scent of ozone mingling with the ancient dust. Cassian Veyne stood amidst the scattered rubble, his chest heaving, the ghostly imprint of the Necron Codex burning against his left hand. The iridescent scar, the Mark of the Eclipseborn, pulsed with an intensity he’d never felt before, a cold, vibrant thrumming that echoed deep within his bones. He stared at the scorch marks on the crumbling walls, at the fissures spiderwebbing across the ceiling where the Sanctum Magi had impacted. He hadn’t consciously directed the surge of black energy. It had simply happened. A desperate, primal surge, fueled by the book’s sudden, fierce will, tearing through the air like a hungry void and scattering the guardians of arcane law like chaff before a storm. They hadn't screamed, not really. Just a collective, choked gasp as they were flung backward, their ward-lights sputtering into darkness, their bodies slamming against the stone with sickening thuds. He hadn't waited to see if they rose. He'd fled, the instinct raw and overwhelming. Now, silence. A heavy, profound silence, broken only by the drip of unseen moisture and the frantic hammering of his own heart. The chill from the Codex, once confined to his hand, had spread, wrapping around his arm, seeping into his shoulder, a constant, low-frequency hum that vibrated in his very teeth. It was a coldness that had nothing to See more