The road north was dead.
No travelers. No wagons. Just brittle trees, frostbitten mud, and crows that circled too low.
Kael kept his cloak wrapped tight. The scabbard on his back bumped with every step, but the weight didn't bother him. What concerned him more was the silence. Not the kind made by nature—but the kind that came after violence.
He passed an abandoned checkpoint near dusk. The guards were gone, their tents burned, the wooden gate half-collapsed. Blood stains trailed across the snow.
Bandits? Or worse—Branded deserters.
He didn't stop to find out.
The blade pulsed once on his back. Not in warning. Hunger.
Kael ignored it.
By nightfall, he found shelter in a collapsed barn, half-sunk into the earth. The smell of old hay and rot filled the air, but it beat freezing outside. He built a fire in the corner, kept it low. Sat with his back to the wall, dagger in hand.
That's when the red script returned—unprompted.
System Alert: Ambient Soul Residue Detected.Scanning...Result: 3 entities deceased within 72 hours. No Essence recoverable.Memory Echo: Play fragment?[Y/N]
Kael hesitated.
His thumb twitched.
[Y]
The air shifted.
Not a vision. More like a smell, a texture, a feeling. Three people. Trapped in the barn before him. One older—dying of sickness. Two younger—cold, starving. One tried to burn the rafters for warmth. The smoke killed them before the fire could.
Kael felt it all in seconds. Pain. Fear. Hopelessness.
Then it ended.
He breathed in sharply, sweat beading on his brow.
The fire crackled.
No reward. No gain. Just… the weight of knowing.
"Why show me that?" he whispered.
No response.
Not even from the blade.
Sleep came, eventually, but not gently.
Kael dreamed of a black sun. Of the boy from the alley, standing silently in a field of bones. Of voices echoing through ash:
Kill to grow.Feed to ascend.Do not ask where the power comes from.
He woke before dawn, eyes burning.
Outside, hooves.
Fast. Heavy.
He rolled into the shadows of the barn wall just as two riders passed down the road. Cloaks marked with a white spiral: the Sealed Order—inquisitors.
Church enforcers.
Kael didn't move until their torchlight disappeared down the path.
So they were already searching.
Deren's death had reached them.
And unlike the Guard, the Sealed Order didn't offer trials.
Only pyres.
By noon the next day, Kael crossed into the forested edge of the Vale.
He needed a place to vanish. To plan. To understand what this Brand was doing to him.
But first, he needed information.
And the perfect place for that was a black-market border town just a day away: Graven Hollow. A festering cesspool of bounty hunters, smugglers, Brand-forgers, and outcast mages.
He'd been there once, years ago. His mother had sold herbs to a witch who paid in salt and silence. He remembered the twisted alleyways and the branded beggars with ruined hands.
But more importantly, he remembered the underground tradehouse where secrets were worth more than gold.
He was stronger now. More dangerous. He had leverage.
As he hiked along the frozen ridge path, the Ledger returned, softer this time.
Soulweight: 21Minor Evolution Threshold Approaching (30)Path Prediction: Shadow Core (72%), Mixed Hybrid (21%), Instability (7%)Warning: Instability may result in irreversible mutation.Proceed with caution.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
Mutation?
He hadn't seen that word before.
And the system wasn't offering him a choice this time. Just a warning.
The shadowblade stirred across his spine—almost like it had heard the same thing.
He pressed forward, deeper into the frost-bitten woods, unsure if the voice in his head was guiding him—or preparing to consume him.