The Necropolitis rose in front of the holy city of Solania.
There was no other way for the people watching from the walls to understand it. It was not a spell simply cast upon the field, nor a fortress raised from stone, nor an illusion meant to frighten the enemy. It was a city. A dead city. Black towers, broken arches, mausoleum streets, hollow windows, grave walls, and cracked battlements lifted themselves out of the ice as if they had been buried beneath Solania since the beginning of the world, waiting for a voice vile enough, old enough, and dead enough to call them home.
The horror behind them was immediate.
