Karl stared at the woman named Vaelis. Her face wasn't particularly striking, but her eyes carried an odd kind of gravity — the gaze of someone who had seen more than most were meant to survive.
"Who are you?" Molvar asked, his hand inching toward his sword.
Vaelis didn't flinch. "I am the last surviving member of the Order of the Black Oath — a group erased from history, but never truly gone."
Sir Cedric furrowed his brow. "The Black Oath… that's supposed to be a myth. They were the ones who walked in darkness, who did what had to be done — even if it made them monsters."
Vaelis nodded. "And because of that, the kingdoms feared us. Banished us. Hunted us."
Karl still said nothing. His eyes were locked on hers, searching for deception. "Why are you here?"
She reached into her cloak and drew out a weathered piece of cloth. Upon it was a scorched symbol: a broken circle surrounded by six blood-stained blades.
