Chapter 33: Motherly Interlude

In a place long forgotten, via a cracked mirror that acted as a conduit. . .

"What do you mean, he refused to come?" The temerity of her son astonished but also roused a great deal of pride. The child she'd birthed - and hidden - showed great promise.

Strength, too.

He'd need it if he was to beat his father and become the new Lord of Hell.

But even big, strong boys needed their mother.

"He can control the army of the dead," War declared, his armor creaking with the shame of his defeat.

"If he can, then this is a new power," she muttered, turning from the image of her soldier. "He certainly never commanded the undead before." She'd watched via her scrying glass how he'd fought the zombies that rose. Fought with a shovel, not magic.

Death, his scythe leaning against the wall as he indulged in a game of chess with Famine, interjected. "He doesn't control the dead. He is not a necromancer."