It was raining in Blightrest when Myrelion caught the scent of death.
He'd returned from Ereval's Tomb with Elin only hours before. The air felt colder, the world quieter, like the village was holding its breath. He passed through empty streets, then stopped—three shadowy figures crouched atop Kaelira's rooftop, unmoving, watching.
His instincts screamed.
Assassins.
He ran.
But as he reached the house, the front door was ajar. His breath caught in his throat.
Inside, everything was still.
Then he saw her—Kaelira.
Collapsed on the wooden floor, blood pooling beneath her. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Her blade was still sheathed.
He dropped to his knees.
"No… no…!" he whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Don't do this. Don't—"
But her skin was cold.
A note lay beside her body, scrawled in fresh blood: "The veil must never rise again."
Myrelion clutched it in trembling fingers. The Order's message was clear—this was a warning.
He buried her behind her cottage with his own hands. It rained the whole time. Elin stood beside him in silence, mourning a woman she barely knew—but one who had protected Myrelion with everything she had.
That night, Myrelion sat alone in the house, the fire dying, the world too still.
And that's when he found the letter.
It was sealed with the Brackwood crest.