Chapter 1 · free to read
I died a botanist, cataloguing seeds. I woke here — Corin, gravekeeper of Vael-Duran, where the only thing they bury deeper than the dead is the word 'necromancy.'
Cracked glass and a lean-to built against a wall that was not his, and every pot in it labelled.
But some seeds here weren't seeds at all.
He knelt in the grave soil the way he had knelt in a seed bed, which is not how anybody here knelt.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.