The Crimson Fortress bled light through its walls.
Not sunlight. Not firelight.
It was the red glow of centuries-old blood, sealed in iron veins that pulsed with every breath of the keep. The fortress was alive, grown from war and fed by the oaths of those who ruled from its seat.
Lord Malrik Vire stood at the highest chamber, where the air was heavy with silence and power. His armor was dark as old rust, forged from the marrow of traitors. His gaze was fixed on the Grand Table, a circular slab of veinstone carved with the map of Aetherra.
He had not moved for an hour.
Below him, General Korr knelt with one fist pressed to the floor. His voice was low, even now, afraid to break the weight that hung in the room.
"We confirmed it, my lord. The Cradle responded to a child from Hollowmere. He awakened violently. Four Bloodbinders entered the valley. Only three returned. One is dead. The others… shaken."
Lord Malrik's eyes did not blink.
"The name."
"Rael."
The name drifted across the chamber like ash.
Malrik finally turned. His face was pale beneath his warbrand, a glowing rune marked from brow to jaw. His eyes, blood-red, bore into Korr.
"Hollowmere was cleansed."
"Yes, my lord. Burned to the stone. No survivors reported."
Malrik stepped down from the throne, each footstep heavier than the last. "Then how does a dead village give birth to the living blood?"
"We do not know. He was believed to be Unblooded. He survived by hiding under the bodies. The Cradle called to him."
Malrik approached the window. Below, the courtyard was alive with movement. Crimson Order soldiers trained in formation, chanting in unison. One wrong step would earn them a lash. Two would earn exile. Three meant death.
"We buried the First Vein," Malrik said, his voice flat. "We purged the last of their echoes at Daggerpoint. We razed the temples. Burned the names. Scattered the line into nothing."
Korr swallowed hard. "Perhaps not far enough."
Malrik turned slowly. "No. The Vein is clever. It hides where memory fades. It grows beneath ash."
He looked again at the map.
"Hollowmere was not random. The Cradle is not random."
"What would you have us do?"
Malrik raised his hand. The wall behind him shifted, revealing a chamber of crimson glass. Within it, twelve relics floated heirlooms of power, bound by blood.
One of them a silver shard began to glow.
"The Houses will hesitate. They fear each other more than they fear ghosts. But we are Vire. We do not flinch at shadows. Assemble the Crimson Order."
Korr rose. "Should we request support from House Thorne?"
"Not yet," Malrik said. "They value control. We value obedience."
He paused.
"Send the Executioners."
Korr's eyes widened. "They have not been used since the Fall of Althara."
"Then it is time they remember their purpose."
Malrik stepped toward the relic chamber, pressing his palm to the glass.
"If the First Vein walks again, it will walk no further than our blades."
"And if he resists?" Korr asked.
Malrik smiled, slow and cruel.
"Then we bleed him."