Dusk swallowed the Shattered Vale in shades of violet and ash. Jagged stones jutted from the blackened ground like the bones of a dying god. A bitter wind howled through the canyons, echoing like voices trapped between worlds.
Seren moved silently through the crags, her unit fanned out behind her. Frost clung to her cloak, her breath a quiet mist. Her senses were sharp—magic thrumming faintly from her crystal, guiding her toward the unknown. The air here felt wrong, like it had been held in too long by the land itself.
Far above, Kaelien watched from a ledge. He saw the Velmoran patrol weaving through the Vale, like ants tracing forbidden paths.
"Seren," whispered Lieutenant Elen, crouched beside a sharp ridge. "Tracks—lighter than ours. Maybe scouts. Not Velmoran."
His eyes narrowed. Then he spotted her"Kael'Thari," Seren murmured.
Not a brute in plate mail. Not a zealot wielding hammers of doctrine. But a woman—young, sharp, preciseShe signaled her soldiers with two clipped fingers. Formation tightened. Blades drawn. Eyes wide.
Kaelien drew his bow, sighting her with expert calm. One arrow. A warning. A messageAbove, Kaelien crouched on a ledge masked in shadow, watching. He had seen Velmoran patrols before, but this one moved differently—less like brutes in armor, more like wolves. Precise. Silent. Their leader moved with calculated grace.
He let it flyStill, they didn't belong here.
It struck the ground at Seren's feetKaelien drew an arrow from his quiver. Its tip glowed faintly with an enchantment that would flare on impact—no death, just a warning.
She froze. Instantly, weapons were drawnHe released.
Kaelien stepped into view, cloak rustling like leaves in a stormIt struck the ground inches from Seren's boots with a burst of amber light.
"You're not welcome here," he calledScatter!" she barked.
Seren's gaze locked with his. Cold. CalculatingThe Velmorans dropped into defensive positions as Seren's eyes locked onto the slope.
"And yet here you are."
From the cliff's edge, Kaelien stepped into view, bow still in hand, his cloak fluttering like smoke.
The first words. The first challenge"You've crossed where no peace stands," he called down. His voice was low, edged with iron and heat.
Neither moved. The wind held its breath.
Seren met his gaze with a soldier's stillness. "We walk the Rift to see what stirs. Not to bleed on your roots."
In the Rift's shadow, steel met spell.
"You carry blades. You track like hunters."
And destiny stirred.
"We carry blades because your kind uses flame like a whip."
Kaelien narrowed his eyes. "And yours smother breath with law."
Silence pulsed between them. Not fear. Not yet. But the ache of two worlds staring at each other, each seeing the reflection of old wounds.
Elen whispered beside Seren, "Do we engage?"
Seren shook her head slowly. "Not unless provoked."
Kaelien felt the shift in her posture—a readiness, not aggression. He lowered his bow a fraction.
"Turn back," he said, quieter now. "Whatever stirs in the Rift will not spare you."
Seren hesitated. "And you think it will spare yours?"
His lips curved, not in a smile, but something bitter. "We do not fear what we awaken. We understand it."
"Understanding doesn't make it less deadly."
Kaelien vanished in a swirl of cloak and whisper, drawing the forest behind him like a curtain. Within seconds, the slope was empty.
The Vale swallowed his shadow.
Seren exhaled, sharp and cold.
"Mark his path," she said. "We move at dawn."
Behind her, Elen muttered, "He didn't try to kill us. That's rare."
Seren didn't answer. But her fingers brushed the burned mark where his arrow had struck.
Not all messages come with blood.
Some come with warning.
And this war, she thought, just became something else.