The storm had quieted by the time they reached the edge of the Vale.Snow clung heavy to the pines, bending their branches low. The air was still, unnaturally still, as though the world held its breath.Aric tightened his grip on the sword, its new runes glowing faintly beneath the frost. Every step echoed with unease. His chest still burned from the fire that had erupted within him, and though he fought to bury it, the whispers were there—soft, seductive, promising.Kin, the voice murmured. He waits for you. He calls to you.Isolde walked close, eyes darting at every shadow. She hadn’t spoken much since the cavern, but her presence steadied him more than words could. Kael, meanwhile, muttered curses under his breath, one hand never far from his blade. The sorcerer strode ahead, staff glowing dimly, as though even they were wary of what lingered here.The Vale spread out before them—an ancient expanse of black rock and jagged spires, half-buried under snow. Crystals jutted from the gr

They chose a hollow beneath leaning pines where the wind softened to a hush and the snow packed tight underfoot. Kael set a small, mean fire and fed it with splinters while the Sorcerer traced a circle in the crusted snow with the iron ferrule of their staff. Runes formed like frost-flowers—six strokes each, clean and old. Isolde watched Aric’s hands the whole time, as if awareness alone might be a shield if the flame inside him woke hungry.“It won’t,” Aric said, forcing a smile he did not feel. His palms still remembered heat. His ribs still ached with the memory of holding back a sun.Kael grunted. “You said that in the cavern. Then we nearly cooked.”“I said I would try.” He wasn’t sure whether the heat under his tongue was anger or the taste of ash that never rinsed away.“Enough,” the Sorcerer said, not sharp, but final. They set the staff upright at the circle’s edge. “We do this now or not at all. The Warlord has felt you. You have felt him. Pretending otherwise wastes lives.”

The citadel of Veyndral had never known silence like this. Not the silence of peace, but the heavy, suffocating stillness that comes before thunder tears open the sky. In every corner of the city, torches burned through the night, shadows dancing across walls as if the very stones were whispering warnings of the battle yet to come.Eldrin stood on the high battlements, the weight of both steel and expectation pressing down on his shoulders. The cursed mark across his arm still burned faintly, a reminder of the darkness he carried and the mistrust it brought. Even now, as the city prepared for war, he could hear the hushed murmurs from soldiers below. Some still wondered if he was a savior—or the blade that would cut their throats from within.But tonight, there was no room for doubt.The courtyard below filled with the people of Veyndral—farmers gripping rusted pitchforks, smiths wielding hammers that had once forged plows but were now reforged for war. Even children carried buckets o

The sun rose, but its light felt wrong. Too pale, too thin, as though the dawn itself recoiled from Veyndral’s wounds. Smoke still curled from the ruins where fire had eaten through wood and stone. The stench of blood clung to the streets, thicker than incense, heavier than prayer.Eldrin walked among the bodies.Some lay in rows, covered with torn banners or cloaks, the makeshift shrouds unable to hide the truth of stiffened hands and pale faces. Others still waited to be carried, slumped against broken walls or sprawled in crimson mud. Every face was a story cut short, every silence a scream swallowed by death.A boy no older than twelve sat beside a fallen man, shaking him again and again. Eldrin knelt, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.“He won’t wake,” Eldrin said softly.The boy’s lip quivered. “He promised… he promised he’d come home.”The words tore at something deep in Eldrin. He swallowed hard, forcing his own grief into silence. “Then carry him in your heart. That way, h

Morning broke gray over Veyndral, the kind of light that made stone look like ash. The city was restless—markets half-empty, doors bolted shut, whispers running faster than trade. Fear traveled faster than steel.And today, fear had a face.The council chamber was packed. Captains, advisors, and city elders sat in grim silence while Kael paced the center like a caged beast. Upon the table lay the stone with the serpent sigil Eldrin had uncovered.“This,” Kael growled, his fist slamming the wood, “was left inside our own walls. The Warlord has a hand here. A traitor moves among us.”The room erupted.“I told you it was an inside hand!” one voice barked.“Cowards! You all doubted me!” another snapped.“If we waste time bickering, the Warlord will burn the rest of us alive!” shouted a third.Isolde’s voice cut through. “Then speak plainly. Who among us do you suspect?”The silence after her words was sharper than steel.At last, Captain Doran—a thick-shouldered veteran with a scar crossi