The wind was a living thing in the mountains, cold, merciless, and sharp enough to flay skin. It screamed through the rocks, carrying flakes of ice that stung the face like sand. The forest had long since given way to stone and snow, and the only color left in the world was gray.
Adrian and Elena trudged along a narrow path carved into the cliffside, their boots crunching through thin crusts of frost. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the hiss of the wind and the occasional crack of distant ice.
It had been two days since Avern burned. Neither spoke of it. Neither could.
Elena kept her cloak pulled tight, though the cold still gnawed through it. Each breath came in sharp clouds that vanished into the air. The mark on her arm was quiet now, as if sleeping, but she could feel it's slow pulse – waiting. Watching.
"How much farther?" she asked finally.
Adrian glanced back. His beard was rimed with frost, and exhaustion had carved new lines into his face. "Another mile. There's an old watch post near the ridge. We can rest there before crossing into the northern wastes."
Elena frowned. "And after that?"
He hesitated before answering. "After that… the path splits. East toward the borderlands, where the Order patrols less. Or west, through the ruins of the old kingdoms."
She studied him carefully. "You sound like you've been there before."
He didn't answer, only adjusted his pack and pressed on.
The wind rose again, and with it came a faint sound, like whispering. At first, Elena thought it was the echo of the gale through the rocks, but then she heard it more clearly: voices, low and indistinct, like a chorus murmuring from beneath the earth.
She stopped. "Do you hear that?"
Adrian paused, listening. His expression hardened. "Don't answer it."
"Answer what?"
"The mountains," he said quietly. "They remember."
Before she could question him, he moved again, faster this time.
By the time they reached the ridge, the sun was sinking behind the peaks, bleeding red into the clouds. The old watch post crouched at the edge of the pass – a squat, crumbling tower half-buried in snow. Its stones were scarred with scorch marks, its roof half-collapsed.
Adrian pushed open the door. Inside, the air was stale but dry. He set his pack down, motioning for Elena to sit by the cold hearth. "I'll find wood. Stay here."
She watched him disappear into the dusk, then wrapped herself tighter in her cloak. Her body ached from the climb, but her mind wouldn't rest. The Seal had been quiet too long. That frightened her more than the noise.
When Adrian returned, he wasn't alone.
A tall man followed him in, a stranger wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, with hair the color of ash and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Elena," Adrian said, voice guarded. "This is Serin. An old ally."
Serin gave a small bow. "Ally's a generous word, given the years. But I'll take it."
His voice was smooth, warm even, but there was a sharpness behind it, a practiced charm. His gaze lingered on Elena's wrist, where the faint glow of the Seal pulsed beneath her sleeve.
"So," he murmured, "it's true. You've found her."
Adrian stiffened. "Keep your voice down."
Serin raised a brow. "Relax, old friend. I'm not with the Order anymore. You know that."
"Do I?" Adrian said quietly.
For a moment, the air between them thickened. Then Serin laughed, breaking the tension. "Still don't trust anyone. I see that hasn't changed."
He knelt by the fireplace and struck flint to spark. Soon, a thin fire flickered, casting weak light across the stone walls.
Elena watched the two men from her place by the wall. She could sense history between them –something old and brittle, ready to crack.
"How do you know each other?" she asked.
Serin answered before Adrian could. "Once upon a time, we fought under the same banner. Before your Order decided to turn every soldier with a conscience into a heretic."
Adrian shot him a warning look.
Serin only smiled wider. "He won't tell you, but Adrian was once one of them, a sworn knight of the Flame bound Order. Until he saw what they truly were."
Elena turned sharply to Adrian. "Is that true?"
Adrian's jaw clenched. "It was a lifetime ago."
Serin leaned closer to the fire. "A lifetime doesn't burn that easily."
Silence fell. The flames popped and hissed, throwing sparks into the dark. Outside, the wind howled like something alive.
Finally, Adrian stood. "We move at dawn. Serin, you'll guide us through the pass."
Serin tilted his head. "Through the pass? You mean the Forsaken one?"
"That's the quickest route."
"It's also cursed."
"Everything north of here is cursed," Adrian replied flatly.
Serin's smile faded. "You've changed, my friend. Once, you'd have prayed before walking into hell. Now you just keep walking."
Adrian didn't look back. "Prayer doesn't stop the fire."
That night, Elena couldn't sleep. The wind's whispering had returned, threading through the cracks in the stone. It wasn't just sound, it was meaning. Faint words, pulling at her consciousness.
Bearer of the flame… you walk where shadows reign.
She sat up, heart racing. The fire in the fireplace had burned low, the embers glowing like coals in the dark. Serin was asleep near the door. Adrian sat awake near the window, watching the horizon.
"Adrian?"
He turned slightly. "You should rest."
"I can't." She hesitated. "That man, Serin. Can we trust him?"
Adrian's eyes stayed on the window. "Trust is a luxury I stopped believing in. But he knows these mountains better than anyone."
"That's not an answer."
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Serin saved my life once. Then he sold it to the highest bidder. I'll use him as long as I can."
Elena studied him. There was something haunted in his expression, guilt, maybe, or the shadow of old wounds.
"You're afraid," she said softly.
He looked at her, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Of what?"
"That you'll fail again."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Before he could respond, a distant howl split the air. Not wolf, not man, something in between.
Adrian was on his feet instantly, blade drawn. Serin stirred, his hand going to the dagger at his belt.
The howling came again, closer this time. Then another joined it. Then three.
Adrian's expression hardened. "We're not alone."
He motioned for the fire to be doused. The room plunged into darkness.
Through the window, Elena saw shapes moving—slender, crooked forms slipping between the rocks. Eyes glimmered in the moonlight, pale and unnatural.
Serin whispered, "Shadowspawn."
Adrian's voice was low. "They don't roam this far north."
"They do now."
The door shuddered under a heavy blow. Then another.
Adrian braced it with his shoulder, gritting his teeth. "Elena, stay back!"
The third impact splintered the wood. A creature burst through, a twisted parody of a man, skin gray and cracked like coal, eyes burning with dim fire. Its mouth opened wider than it should, shrieking in hunger.
Adrian met it head-on, blade flashing. The creature fell, but another took its place.
Serin slashed at one near the window, his dagger glinting. "They're drawn to her!" he shouted. "To the Seal!"
Elena's heart pounded. The mark on her arm blazed to life, searing with pain. The fire answered her fear, spilling from her hand in a wild arc. Flames engulfed the doorway, forcing the creatures back, but the effort nearly dropped her to her knees.
Adrian caught her arm. "Control it!"
"I'm trying!"
The fire roared higher, licking the ceiling. Serin cursed, covering his face. "You'll burn us all!"
Elena gritted her teeth, forcing the flames inward. Slowly, painfully, the light dimmed. When it faded completely, the only sound was the crackle of charred wood and the wind outside.
Adrian lowered his sword. "They're gone."
"Not gone," Serin muttered, peering into the dark. "Waiting."
Elena collapsed against the wall, trembling. "What were they?"
"Shadowspawn," Adrian said grimly. "Remnants of men consumed by darkness. The Order used to call them myths. But they're real."
"And they follow the Seal."
"Yes."
Serin sheathed his dagger, his expression unreadable. "Then maybe your Seal is a curse after all."
Adrian turned on him. "Watch your tongue."
Serin smirked. "Just saying what we're all thinking."
Elena met his gaze, and for a moment, she thought she saw pity there or envy. She couldn't tell which.
The rest of the night passed in silence. When dawn finally came, pale and thin, the fire was long dead.
Adrian packed quickly, his movements tense. "We leave now. No trails, no noise."
Serin shouldered his pack. "North or west?"
Adrian hesitated. "North. Toward the mountains."
Serin nodded slowly. "Then you should know something, old friend."
Adrian frowned. "What?"
Serin smiled thinly. "You're being followed."
Before Adrian could move, Serin whistled sharply. From the ridge above, half a dozen figures emerged, cloaked in gray, bearing the sigil of the Inquisition.
Elena's blood ran cold.
Adrian drew his sword, betrayal flashing in his eyes. "Serin!"
The man shrugged. "You never did pay well enough."
The Inquisitors began their descent.
Elena's mark flared again, burning through her sleeve. The Seal was awake and angry.
Adrian stepped in front of her, sword raised. "Stay behind me."
Serin backed away, smirking. "I'd say it's nothing personal, but we both know that's a lie."
Adrian's voice was low, deadly calm. "Then it ends personally."
The wind howled again through the pass, carrying the scent of ash and steel.
And as the Inquisitors advanced, the Seal began to burn brighter than ever, its crimson light painting the snow like blood.