GRAVEHOOK

The first body fell from the church bell just before dawn.It hit the frozen square hard enough to split the skull open across the cobblestones. Nobody screamed. The villagers standing beneath the cathedral only lowered their heads and backed away through the snow while the corpse twisted slowly at the end of the rope still tied to its ankle.Another body hung above it. Then another.Three hunters in black church coats swung beneath the bells of Saint Bartholomew Cathedral while blood dripped steadily from their boots onto the white ground below.The bells kept ringing. Slow. Heavy. Hollow.Draeven Mordryn watched from horseback at the edge of the square while snow gathered across the shoulders of his coat.Too late again.The horse beneath him breathed nervously through the cold. It could smell the dead already.“So this is where they vanished,” Malgraves muttered beside him.The priest pulled his hood lower against the wind and stared at the hanging bodies with tired eyes. Half his

Snow covered the road out of Brașov by noon.The city disappeared gradually behind them beneath layers of mountain fog while dead pine trees crowded both sides of the frozen trail. Draeven rode ahead in silence with Mournhook resting across his back beneath heavy cloth wrappings. Every few minutes the scythe pulsed faintly against his spine, almost like a second heartbeat.The boy walked beside Malgraves’ horse instead of riding.Nervous. Watching everything.Draeven had learned enough over the years to know fear when he saw it. This was different. The boy looked guilty.“What’s your name?” Malgraves finally asked.“Oric.”“You said your sister returned.”Oric nodded slowly without looking at him.“She came back after three nights.”“What happened then?”The boy’s jaw tightened.“My father let her inside.”Draeven’s horse continued moving steadily through the snow while the silence stretched.Then Oric spoke again.“She killed everyone before sunrise.”Malgraves closed his eyes briefl

By midday, the storm had swallowed the mountains whole.Snow hammered against the horses hard enough to blur the trail ahead while dead pine branches scraped across stone cliffs beside the narrow pass. The road climbing toward Blackwater Monastery looked less traveled the farther they went. Half-buried carts rested frozen beneath drifts, and old warning totems carved with church scripture leaned crookedly from the snow like grave markers.Draeven rode in silence at the front. The village behind them still clung to him. Not the bodies. The children. Fresh blood.The church was gathering them for something alive inside the monastery.That changed everything.Oric struggled to keep pace through the snow beside Malgraves’ horse. The boy refused help every time the priest offered it, though exhaustion dragged heavily across his face now.“You should ride before your legs freeze off,” Malgraves muttered.“I’m fine.”“You’re limping.”“I said I’m fine.”Draeven glanced back briefly. Pain sha

“Read the rest.”Sylveth’s voice carried calmly across the underground chamber while chains groaned beneath the abyss.Draeven stared at the parchment in his hands.The page looked old enough to crumble apart. Church seals marked the corners alongside signatures from clergy long buried beneath cathedral stone.But one signature stood above the others.Aurell Mordryn. His father. Draeven’s eyes stopped there. For several seconds he heard nothing except the slow pounding of blood inside his skull.Malgraves stepped closer carefully.“What is it?”Draeven handed him the document without answering. The priest’s face changed the moment he read the lower section.“God preserve us…”Oric looked between them anxiously.“What does it say?”Malgraves swallowed once before speaking.“It says the communion ritual required a blood relative to complete the binding.”The mountain seemed colder suddenly. Draeven looked toward Sylveth.“My father agreed to this?”“No,” she answered softly. “He volunte

“That is impossible.”Sylveth spoke the words first.For the first time since Draeven had met her, certainty had disappeared from her voice.The Veilmother stared into the abyss as if the thing below had shattered a truth she had spent years building her life around.The massive red eyes remained fixed on Draeven.Waiting. Watching. Enjoying the silence.Around the chamber, broken chains swayed slowly above the pit while black corruption crawled across the stone floor like spilled ink searching for cracks.Draeven rose from one knee. Blood still dripped from his nose. His head pounded from the flood of memories.Little brother.The words refused to leave him. He tightened his grip on Mournhook.“You have the wrong man.”The thing below laughed softly. The sound rolled through the chamber.“No,” it said. “I rarely forget family.”Oric looked from Draeven to the abyss.“Someone want to explain what that means?”“Not possible,” Severin said quietly.The executioner’s eyes narrowed.“Unle