Night fell like ink spilled over stone.The cellar beneath Ashvale’s old mill glowed dimly, one lantern flickering against cold walls. Maps lay scattered across the table, lines drawn, names circled — pieces of a puzzle only Kael could see clearly.Daren sat on a crate nearby, tossing a coin up and down.“Can I say something?”Kael didn’t look up. “You usually do.”Daren caught the coin, leaned forward. “You’re working too quiet. Too clean. Feels like you’re holding your breath before something explodes.”Kael finally lifted his eyes. “It already exploded once. I’m just sweeping the ashes this time.”That made Daren frown. “You talk like a ghost.”Kael almost smiled. “Maybe I am.”The lamp sputtered.Kael leaned over the table, eyes scanning a column of symbols drawn beside each noble’s name. He had written C next to some — for “corrupt.” Others, D — for “dead.” But one name stood out.Lady Seris Valen.Beside it, no mark. Only a small question mark drawn in black ink.“Her again?” Da

The morning came soft, like it didn’t want to wake the world. Mist hung over Ashvale, the kind that made the air smell clean and heavy at the same time. The sun was a pale blur behind the clouds.Kael stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the village come alive. A woman swept her steps. A boy ran past with a basket of apples. Men shouted near the well, arguing about taxes. All so ordinary. All so fragile.He wasn’t part of it — not really. He was the stranger who knew too much.Behind him, Daren groaned awake on the floor. “You’re up early again,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.“Couldn’t sleep,” Kael said. His voice sounded calm, but his mind hadn’t stopped racing all night. He’d felt something watching him — not just the usual fear of being found, but something else. Something old.Daren sat up, pulling his boots on. “You’ve been staring out that window for an hour. You see ghosts or something?”Kael didn’t answer. He just nodded toward the tree line beyond the fields. “There. N

The wind carried dust across the broken road as Kael and Daren made their way east. The world felt quieter here — too quiet. No birds, no laughter, not even the hum of insects. Just the steady crunch of boots on cracked earth and the soft rasp of Daren’s breath behind him.The ruins appeared out of the haze like ghosts, their jagged walls rising from the ground like bones of something long dead. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of old ash and forgotten fire.Kael stopped at the ridge, staring down at the valley. The sight hit him like a punch — it hadn’t changed. Even after two lifetimes, the Echo Vault looked the same: broken towers, sunken stones, and silence that pressed against his chest.“Looks dead,” Daren muttered, pulling his cloak tighter.Kael crouched and ran his fingers through the dust. “Nothing here ever really dies,” he murmured. Beneath his palm, the ground trembled faintly, like a weak heartbeat.They entered the ruins without another word. The wind followed th

The rain came down hard that night. Not the soft kind that cooled the streets this one bit like teeth, soaking through cloaks and bones.Kael moved through the back alleys of Vhalric’s lower quarter, hood pulled low. The city had changed in seventeen years, but the smell hadn’t smoke, ale, and old blood hiding under wet stone. The kind of place where secrets were born and buried in the same breath.Daren followed close behind, muttering under his breath. “We fought a ghost in the snow, and now we’re sneaking through rat tunnels. You sure this is better?”Kael didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the end of the narrow lane a crooked sign swinging in the wind. The Blind Mare Inn. A place that didn’t ask names, only coins.He pushed the door open. Warm air and noise spilled out laughter, dice hitting tables, the sharp smell of stew. For a moment, he looked like just another tired traveler.But Kael saw everything the exits, the hidden blade at the barkeep’s side, the man by the fir

The tavern was quiet enough to hear coins drop. Smoke hung low, curling around the single candle between Kael and the man across from him — the Broker. No one knew his real name, only that he traded in things people swore didn’t exist.Kael leaned back, arms crossed. “You have what I asked for?”The Broker’s grin was thin, all teeth and no warmth. “Information like that doesn’t come cheap.”“I didn’t ask for cheap,” Kael said. His tone was calm, but his eyes never left the man’s hands. Every movement counted.The Broker reached into his coat, sliding a folded paper across the table. “This is from the Imperial vaults. Names, routes, orders — the ones you said were hidden after the Northern Campaign. You’ll find proof that your commander, Lord Varic, sold you out.”Kael’s fingers brushed the edge of the paper. His chest tightened. That name again. The man who ended his life once. The ghost that refused to stay dead.He opened the paper. The seal was real. The handwriting was Varic’s.“W