Vincent stood before his father in the mansion's grand study.The room was large, imposing, designed to intimidate. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, but they held no novels, no poetry, nothing that wasn't about money. Ledgers, account books, shipping manifests, contracts, all the paper trails of a family that had built its fortune on trade and never let anyone forget it.A massive desk dominated the center of the room, carved from dark wood that had been imported from the Grimreach at great expense. Its surface was covered in papers, each one stamped with the John family crest—a mountain, a river, a tree. The fireplace was cold, dark, empty. No fire had been lit there in years.Lord Percival John stood behind the desk, his hands clasped behind his back, his cold eyes fixed on his son. His silver hair was perfectly combed. His dark velvet clothes were immaculate. His signet ring gleamed on his finger."Who were those people?" Percival demanded. His voice was sharp, cu

The scarred commander dismounted from his horse slowly, his boots sinking into the soft earth. The black stallion stood still behind him, its breath fogging in the cold morning air, its tail swishing lazily. His men stayed back, their hands on their swords, their eyes fixed on the squad with cold, professional interest.His grey eye—the one that remained, cold and unreadable—fixed on Vincent."I'm not here to fight," he said. His voice was low, rumbling, like stones grinding together deep beneath the earth. It echoed in the quiet clearing."Then why are you here?" Vincent asked. His tone was light, almost playful, but his hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white."To deliver a message." The commander paused, letting the silence stretch. "Your father is dying."Vincent's face went still. The color drained from his cheeks. His lips parted, but no words came out.The wind picked up, rustling the trees. A bird called somewhere in the distance, a lonely sound. No one else spoke."T

The plan was simple.It was made by Rendel and Rey John, the brothers who had spent their lives surviving in a world that hated them, who had learned to escape before they learned to fight. They knew how to disappear. They knew how to hide. They knew how to take what they needed without being seen.Guiller and Tarek would help Lex and Dorian blend in with the crowd. There would be many people at the auction—traders from distant cities, warlords from the Grimreach, merchants who had heard rumors of strange artifacts and come to claim them. Blending in wouldn't be hard.The goblin brothers would prepare the horses, with Kaela waiting nearby. Kaela wouldn't help. She was still weak from her wounds, her body still healing, her strength still returning. She would rest.Vincent was the key.His power had begun to calm down, thanks to the ring. The frost on his skin had receded. His breathing had steadied. But he was still weak, still recovering. He couldn't fight. He didn't need to.He just

The group reached the border of Aurelia as the sun began to rise.The landscape changed slowly at first, the twisted trees of the Grimreach thinning out, their dark branches replaced by the green canopy of normal forests. The ground grew firmer beneath the horses' hooves. The air smelled cleaner, fresher, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers instead of ash and decay.Guiller looked back one last time.The Grimreach was already fading into the distance, swallowed by the morning mist. He couldn't see Ash Hollow anymore. He couldn't smell the death. He couldn't feel the weight of the old man's eyes on his back. The skulls on the walls, the bones hanging from doorways, the constant stench of rot, all of it was behind him now.Tarek rode beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched."You're not going back," Tarek said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A promise.Guiller was silent for a long moment. His dark eyes were fixed on the road ahead, on the green hil

Lex gathered his squad in the palace courtyard as the morning sun climbed slowly over the walls.The stone beneath their feet was cold and damp, still wet from the rain that had fallen overnight. Water dripped from the eaves of the buildings, plinking into puddles on the cobblestones. Guards patrolled the battlements above, their armor gleaming dully in the pale light. Their footsteps echoed in the quiet morning. Servants crossed the courtyard with baskets of laundry and trays of food, their footsteps hurried, their heads down.Dorian leaned against a stone pillar, his arms crossed over his chest. His boots were scuffed. His shirt was untucked. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed."So," he said. "What's the plan? Where are we heading?""I don't know yet," Lex said. "We're waiting for news. The king will tell us where we're needed.""Waiting. My favorite."Kaela was checking her bowstring, running her fingers along the fibers, testing the tension. She didn't look up. "We're al