---
The sun rose crimson over the hills of Virelen, casting long shadows over terraced farms and gray watchtowers that dotted the valley like forgotten sentinels.
It was a land untouched by war—but not by fear.
Banners no longer flew. Nobles no longer rode. Only rumors passed freely now—of an Ashborn wielding ancient fire, of a dead prince returned, of a city cursed by memories.
Riven rode in silence, Kael beside him, and Lucen trailing behind like a shadow that refused to disappear.
None of them had spoken since crossing the river two days prior.
They didn't need to.
The tension was thick enough to cut.
---
The road led to Aerenthal, Virelen's capital, a sprawling city of slate and silver built into a mountain's heart.
But the gates were closed.
Dozens of guards in black-plated armor lined the stone bridge, their helms adorned with silver thorns.
At their center stood a tall woman, cloaked in midnight blue.
Hair braided back. Eyes the color of carved emeralds.
She raised one gloved hand.
"State your purpose."
Kael tensed. "Trouble already."
Riven dismounted.
"I seek an audience with the one who governs Virelen."
The woman studied him.
Then smiled faintly.
"You've found her."
---
Seris Nyelle. Crownless noble. Spymaster. Ruler by necessity, not blood.
She led them into Aerenthal under heavy guard.
"Do you know what you are, Riven Caelthorn?" she asked as they passed beneath the inner gates.
"A threat," Riven said.
"Good. You understand."
The city itself was a strange blend of discipline and dread. Markets operated, but soldiers watched every stall. Children played, but none sang. The people were waiting—for war, or collapse.
"I've kept Virelen neutral," Seris said. "No allegiance to the Courts, nor the Order. But neutrality is a dying luxury."
She turned to him.
"Your presence here ends it."
---
Her palace wasn't gold or glass.
It was iron and knowledge.
Scrolls lined every wall. Maps layered the tables. And on one massive board, small wooden pieces marked factions across the continent: the Eclipse Order, the splintered Kingdoms, the Flameborn, the Wraithborne…
And now—the Ashborn.
"I don't want to kill you," Seris said. "You're useful. Terrifying, yes, but useful."
Kael muttered, "She's blunt."
"I'm alive because I don't lie," she replied.
She poured herself a glass of amber wine. "So let me offer this plainly, Ashborn. Stay in Virelen. Help me keep this city safe. In return, I'll give you access to my spy network, my libraries… and a direction to your next Seal."
Riven's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not searching for the Seal yet."
"No," she said. "But someone else is."
---
That night, Riven walked the palace's stone balconies alone, the air heavy with coming rain.
He hated politics.
Words that twisted like knives. Smiles sharper than swords.
And yet… Seris was right.
He couldn't keep wandering. The world was shifting. Armies would soon march. He needed allies, no matter how sharp.
Behind him, Kael approached.
"She's dangerous."
"So am I."
Kael leaned on the rail beside him.
"I got a letter. From someone in Theralis."
Riven blinked. "Theralis? That's—"
"Where my sister is," Kael said quietly. "She's alive. And in danger."
Riven faced him fully.
"What do you want to do?"
Kael looked down.
"I don't know. I said I'd follow you. But…"
He hesitated.
"You're not the only one chasing ghosts."
---
The next morning, Riven met Seris in the war chamber.
She slid a folder across the table.
"Your rival's name is Aelon Marr. A noble turned zealot. Eclipse Order's newest pet general. He's headed to the Ashen Coast. Seeking something."
Riven opened the folder.
Sketches. Movements. A fragment of a black Seal.
"Not a full Seal," he muttered.
"No. But if he finds what he's looking for… it will become one."
Seris met his gaze.
"Help me stop him. And I'll help you stop your brother."
---