The sigil burned in the storm like a wound in the sky—three interlocked rings surrounded by jagged lines. Kaelen felt the heat of it in his chest, as if the mark itself recognized him.
Liora's eyes narrowed. "That's not just a warning. It's a summons."
They climbed higher into the Frostfangs, the path narrowing until sheer drops flanked them on either side. Snow began to fall, carried sideways by the storm winds.
At the mouth of a mountain pass, a figure waited—tall, armored in plates of black iron etched with the same sigil. His helm was shaped like a snarling beast, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of a hundred battles.
"Kaelen the Keeper. Liora the Wanderer. The Veilmaster knows of your escape… and bids you kneel."
Kaelen stepped forward, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "And if we refuse?"
The figure's gauntleted hand rose. Shadows spilled from the ground, forming a ring around them. "Then you die here, and your bodies become vessels for the Abyss."
The lieutenant's name struck Kaelen like ice when he finally spoke it—Vorath the Oathbreaker, a warlord thought slain decades ago, now bound to the Veilmaster's will.
The first clash came fast—steel ringing against steel, snow scattering under each blow. But Kaelen quickly realized Vorath was not merely fighting… he was studying him.
And somewhere deep inside, Kaelen felt it—Vorath knew the Abyss's call as well as he did.
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