Corvin slithered across the marshline trails of Savaryn for a time. Afterwards turned to Air elemental again as it was the lightest and fastest as of now. With the practiced ease of someone whose very stride bent to the will of elemental precision, his presence cloaked in muted pulses of wind. Beneath his calm exterior, his mind unraveled the patchwork memories recently extracted through mindwalking dozens of native Feralis. The geography, the clan structures, the tensions, the old grudges and fractured pacts. All whispered into place like puzzle pieces snapping into a brutal, coherent whole.
The Jackalkin mercenaries were ahead. He could feel it.
But first, something stirred along the shallow lake waters cradled between tree choked ridges.
He paused at the water's edge.
Ripples fanned outward, slow and intentional.
Then, they emerged.
Slender torsos breached the surface, rising like silver blades under moonlight. The first of them, a lithe female with turquoise scales patterned like coral glass. Tilted her head in measured curiosity. Long black hair clung to her glistening chest, failing entirely to obscure the generous, full breasts that moved with her breaths like buoyant offerings to the old ocean gods.
More followed. Dozens. Mermaids and mermen from the scattered clans of Savaryn's lakes, drawn by the unnatural pulse of Corvin's mana signature signalling an air elemental at the moment of him finding this lovely scene. They were elegant, alien, beautiful. The males had streamlined torsos and muscular arms, their lower halves adorned in armored scales and coiling tails. Some bore heads that defied symmetry, shark mawed visages, orca like ridges, and dorsal bone crests inherited from oceanic predators.
And yet, Corvin couldn't help but admire the females more.
Perhaps it was the way their torsos clung to symmetry, to something familiar and human enough to trick the eye. Or perhaps it was simpler. The curve of their bare breasts above rippling scales made him pause, if only for a beat, before reactivating the familiar calculus of power, anatomy, and value.
He extended his will.
Spore laced threads drifted across the air, invisible, threading through the group before they could react. Their minds was like a book under his touch. One by one, their thoughts bloomed open, and with them came revelations, affinities mostly of Water, some with Lightning, Ice, and Air secondary branches. Not a single trace of Fire or Magma among them.
The first wave succumbed quickly. Then the second. By the time the water calmed, twenty of the lake born were still and drifting consciousness devoured, memories absorbed, traits and affinities siphoned.
But Corvin wasn't finished.
On the shoreline, he knelt and drew a wide arc into the muddy bank with one finger. It shimmered with death tinged mana as he began the reanimation sequence. No simple Shellbinds or Hollowbinds.
These would be Covenant Bound.
Soul tethers flared to life as he restructured the spirits of the slain into eternal extensions of his will. The mermaids twitched first, chests rising, not with breath, but with surge. Their eyes dimmed to pale teal, glassy and unblinking but did not lost the intelligence in them. The mermen followed, tails curling with unnerving synchronicity. The bindings were clean and elegant.
Thirty in total.
They now moved at his unspoken command, submerged or surfaced, senses and minds slaved to his awareness. Their capacity for stealth, ambush, and arcane disruption underwater made them perfect sentinels for any aquatic siege. Corvin observed them with a silent nod before gesturing.
With a shimmer of light, the waterborne undead began to vanish.
Into his inventory.
He stored them carefully, it was a strange experience, watching thirty resurrected souls retreat into containment like neatly rolled scrolls of flesh and bone. But it was efficient. Necessary.
He already had ravens in the sky. Now merfolk haunted the depths.
He just needed fangs and claws on the ground.
And the Jackalkin would make excellent candidates.
--
While Corvin expanded his dominion across Savaryn's lakes and marshes, quietly amassing a blend of undead, elemental, and biological assets, matters stirred behind sealed doors in the Synod.
Archmagus Vaelorin the Black stood before the central spire of the Obsidian Gate, his voice crisp, measured, and laced with political weight. The inquiries from the Gilded Dominion had escalated into multiple formal requests. A human Magister been added to the list with letters from Cindrel and Starlight Academies. The envoys were persistent, even when shrouded in diplomatic civility. And now, Vaelorin had brought the matter to the Hexarchy.
The two Planarchs, silent at first, eventually exchanged glances and murmured in tones, They had some details from the first reports of the shadows who contacted this Raven. Now thanks to the human magister they have the full picture. After a moment's contemplation, they gave their answer: the Gilded Dominion's envoys would receive an affirmative. Corvin Blackmoor would be available within two weeks.
But what followed in the council chamber held far more consequence.
"We should not waste this chance," Planarch Selyndros intoned, his eyes aglow with layered auras. "Blackmoor has a private understanding with the Duchess. An open channel, direct and unfiltered by Arbiters or courts."
"Then it should become ours to wield," murmured the second Planarch, her fingers idly circling a suspended arc of light. "He has unrestricted access to her court, her infrastructure, and her confidence. In her despereation she will agree to our terms. We can even sell the operation of the Obsidian Talons to increase our benefits. To have a permanent base on Argyll."
The tactical accord between Corvin and Duchess Yvanna granting him full diplomatic immunity within the Dominion, unrestricted mobility across coastal and inland strongholds and access to merchant networks.
To the Hexarchy, it was a perfect beachhead.
"With him acting as a Synod channel," Vaelorin added, "we can seed agents into the Dominion, Iron March and slaver heretics. Under his name no scrutiny will be faced from the Yvanna's court, no questions asked. The Duchess herself would validate their presence."
"And once they are rooted," Selyndros finished, "the Argyll sector will cease to be a regular spot. Trade routes, military staging, political manipulation... all starting from within her gilded walls."
They did not even consider Corvin might refuse. His track record had proven autonomous yet aligned. Each unsanctioned act had only deepened the Synod's gains. In their minds, his will had already become a tool of state. Another soul under the Dark Mother.
Not once did they speak of asking him.
Only how they would use him.
--
Four days had passed since Corvin began reshaping Savaryn's tribal landscape with calculated devastation.
He moved like a phantom across the scattered tribes. Never in the same form twice. One day he wore the face of a dark haired preacher, robed in crimson. Another, a golden haired knight with a blade that shimmered with Light magic. On the third, a tall, stern emissary cloaked in the gold trimmed vestments reminiscent of Verranate priests.
Each attack was surgical.
He targeted lone scouts, border camps, and traveling bands of Feralis, ensuring that each kill left witnesses. They would survive, trembling, to spread word of the "divine judgment" they had seen firsthand. Human invaders, clad in righteousness and Light, striking down kin with cold sanctity.
Not a single soul could trace him.
But many would trace the symbols. The Light infused weapons. The holy chants whispered in the final seconds of the ambushes. All deliberate. All damning.
Whispers spread fast. The Holy Verranate was coming.
And while they panicked, he built.
Now, Corvin stood in a savannah surrounded by golden grass that rippled with dry wind. Before him knelt a silent army.
Jackalkin. Lionkin. Bearkin. Tigerkin. Even a few rare Eaglekins. Corvin was amazed by the majesty of the Eaglekins to be honest. These were larger compared to their Feralis brethren. They have pair of large wings on their backs, head of an eagle arms of a human. Their lower body was humanoid as well. Similar to all other Feralis, their feet or rather talons were as sharp as daggers. He absorbed multiple of them and was ready to raise more of not only Eagles but the famous Dragonkin as well. Back to his adorable undead, their eyes were pale, glassy. Empty of soul but filled with intelligence and absolute obedience.
Fifty two undead.
Covenant Bound. Enhanced. Perfectly integrated with his commands.
Among them, two living Jackalkin knelt bound, trembling, flanked by their reanimated kin. Their expressions shifted from rage to fear to something closer to reverence as they looked into Corvin's unblinking eyes.
As it stands, he was in need of test subjects for the Arcane Virology experiments after all. The two upstanding citizens of this lovely Savannah would do perfectly. He turned to his ..flock.. yes lets call it a flock for now, "Bring me more living subjects, do not be seen." He ordered.
Corvin exhaled slowly, arms folded behind his back as he studied the eerie tableau.
So many. In mere days.
His lips curved.
A glint sparked behind his gaze, not hunger, but something deeper. Ambition.
If this was the result he could forge in less than a week... what would he become with a month? A season? A year?
A kingdom of the dead?
No.
A dominion of purpose. Loyal. Silent. Eternal.
And soon, it would march.