Kael
We walked for three days under blood-red skies.
Each night the moon rose fat and sickled, bleeding across the clouds like an omen written in old gods' tongues. Even the air tasted different—iron-rich, like we were breathing battlefield ash.
Lyra didn't speak much, not since the dungeon. She kept fiddling with a gear-shaped pendant that pulsed with a soft blue light. Her new class was still settling into her, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, I didn't ask. We both had our ghosts.
Ahead, the ruins of Gravespire Hold clawed up from a dead hill, its towers leaning like drunken executioners. I'd only heard of the place in whispers—where blood pacts were made in chambers carved from old stone and older sins.
I stopped walking.
"This is where we're supposed to meet them?"
Lyra nodded without looking. "The Accord. Once a decade. Crimson Veil and Black Thorn. They don't trust each other—so they meet in a place they both hate."
"And we're trusting either of them?"
"No," she said. "We're using them."
Her voice held the sharp edge of someone who knew what it meant to be used first.
The drawbridge groaned as it lowered. A procession emerged from the gloom beyond the gate: armored figures with crimson half-masks, long ceremonial blades strapped across their backs. And behind them, dark-robed warlocks with symbols stitched from bone.
The two factions.
Crimson Veil.
Black Thorn Pact.
They watched us like scavengers sizing up fresh kill.
A masked figure stepped forward.
"You bear power not sanctioned," she said, voice smooth and cold.
Lyra didn't flinch. "We weren't looking for permission."
"No," said another voice—this one from the shadows behind us, male, wrapped in scentless robes and silver-stamped vambraces. "But you'll have to pay for protection. And payment comes in blood, or loyalty."
The words were more than threat. They were invitation.
My fingers twitched. The flame in my veins stirred.
"We're not here to kneel," I said.
Lyra rested a hand lightly on my arm, a quiet check I didn't want—but maybe needed.
"We're here to survive," she said. "Just long enough to find what's coming next."
The crimson figure studied us, then gestured toward the gates.
"Then come. The Accord begins tonight."