NOVEL NEXT Volume 2 Epilogue
The Black Pilgrim marched through a hall in the slums, holding his head high. It was dark, and no one could see his face beneath his hood. Not that it really mattered—no one would recognize him anyway.
The other members of the Black Order sat at the edges of the hall, cooking food over fires or smoking pipes. They all watched him as he passed through. Some were non-Ascendants. Most were weak Ascendants who hadn't amounted to much before they found him. Now, with his help, they had undone years of faulty, foolish advancement.
They would never change their Class, but they could change their aspect. They could align themselves with the Field, cast aside the mistakes they'd made earlier in their lives. He'd gotten much better at it. Much better at helping them than helping himself.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
When they looked at him, they all had empty, black eyes.
He only ever walked down the center of his hall when he had an announcement to make. Rain pattered on the roof of the hall, but they'd patched it a year ago. The walls still had a few holes, and he didn't mind. Let more of the slum dwellers see who lived inside. If they wanted to join, then all the better.
He stepped up onto a dais, then turned to a lectern and leaned his staff against it. He pulled down his hood and faced the crowd.
"The next Great Alchemist has revealed himself. He will need us before long, and we will make ourselves useful." He leaned forward on the lectern and stared at the crowd with greater intensity. "Soon, we will need the original texts, and they exist…somewhere. I will need volunteers."