A letter from Raxedeos. Its seal—royal blue with the sigil of the serpent sun—was already broken, but the message inside was unspoiled. The Grand Alpha read it twice, though the words remained the same: cold, dismissive, and wrapped in the silk of diplomacy.
The king of Raxedeos had denied everything.
Soon after, Ser Brimstone was summoned.
He walked in with cautious steps, the stone floor echoing beneath his boots. Thick columns rose like silent sentinels, and the great banner of the Grand Pack hung solemnly above the throne.
"Here," the Grand Alpha said, handing him the parchment. His voice held no emotion. "Their king claims no involvement. According to him, the accused acted alone. He demands they be returned to Raxedeos—for execution. For shaming the name of the Glorious City."
Ser Brimstone said nothing, but the paper trembled slightly in his grasp.
The Grand Alpha added, with a bitter curl of the lip, "As a token of goodwill, he offers us their finest corn from the last harvest. He hopes it may ease the sting of the raid."
A bribe disguised as generosity… typical.
He met Ser Brimstone's eyes with quiet force. "Were you able to get anything useful from the interrogation?"
A pause.
Then Ser Brimstone drew in a breath.
"It's more complicated than I expected, Wazili."
The Grand Alpha returned to his throne, lowering himself with the weight of a man who had heard one too many excuses. "How complicated?"
Ser Brimstone stepped forward, then dropped to one knee. Not just out of protocol—but out of reverence for what he was about to say.
"Wazili," he began, steadying his tone, "they claim they are not invaders—but refugees. Their village is Temburah, a forgotten place on the Raxedean coast. They say their home was overrun by something… unnatural."
He glanced up, gauging the Alpha's reaction. Finding none, he continued.
"They fled first to the capital—Raxedeos itself—seeking shelter. But they were mocked. Turned away. So they ran again, further and further, until they passed through the Blackwood Forest and crossed into Zuganis. What looked like an invasion… may have been desperation."
"Rise," the Grand Alpha said.
Ser Brimstone obeyed. Then came the next question, soft but sharp:
"And who, exactly, were they running from?"
Ser Brimstone hesitated for just a moment. Then, with a voice weighted by legend, he spoke the name.
"They call them the Dark Ones, Wazili."
The room seemed to grow colder.
"Dark Ones," he repeated. "Creatures from the oldest tales. They walk in shadow, said to serve Vindori—the god of the underworld. The villagers claim these beings come as punishment, sent to scour lands that have fallen to sin. They kill both man and beast, and destroy all they touch."
The Grand Alpha burst into sudden laughter, the sound echoing through the stone hall.
"You believe this?" he asked between breaths. "It sounds like a fireside fairytale. The desperate stories of a man who knows he's about to die."
But Ser Brimstone did not retreat.
"Wazili," he said firmly, "I've read those legends too. Perhaps they are only myths. But that man believed what he said—fully. He didn't fear our swords. He feared something else entirely."
He paused, voice quieting.
"One of them took his own life… on the way here from Zuganis."
That silenced even the Grand Alpha.
Then came the next question, slow and deliberate.
"Tell me… do you believe this story because they are your people—or because of what you saw in his eyes?"
"I ask only for an investigation," Brimstone answered. "Whatever this is—it drove a man to madness and death. If even part of it is true, then it could one day reach our borders."
The Grand Alpha rose from his seat, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"And what would you have me do, Ser Brimstone?" he asked. "This happened on their land. Their king has claimed them. Shall I now defy him and risk a fracture between Raxedeos and the Grand Pack?"
Ser Brimstone bowed his head. "My apologies, Wazili."
There was no anger in the Alpha's voice as he turned toward his chambers—only finality.
"Prepare them for transport in a fortnight," he said. "That will be all. You are dismissed."
The door closed behind him, leaving Ser Brimstone alone in the cold chamber.
He stood there for a moment longer, the king's words still echoing in his ears.
"Do you believe this?"
He took his own life… There must be more.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, like a whisper carried by wind through trees, the name stirred again.
Vindori.