Adrian moved like a storm breaking. His blade cleared its sheath with a hiss, catching the torchlight. The first rider lunged, but Adrian's blade met him in a flash of steel. Sparks flew. While he was locked in the fierce exchange, four arrows shot from the darkness by an unseen archer whizzed toward him; he dodged the first two and deflected the others with his blade without even looking. The second soldier raised his weapon, only to be cut down with a precision that spoke years of killing.
"Elena, move!" Adrian's voice was rough with command.
She ran, her cloak snapping at her heals. The crowd scattered around her, people desperate to escape the clash of steel and the wrath of the Order. Behind her, the bonfire toppled, sparks scattering like fireflies as steel rang against steel.
But the mark on her arm was no longer content to be hidden. It flared in full, a crimson sigil alive with its own furious light. The pain nearly drove her to her knees, but worse was the sound – the sound a low whisper in her ears, like embers crackling inside her skull.
Burn.
"No…" She gasped, clutching her arm.
The whisper deepened, becoming a roar. Flames burst from her fingertips, uncontrolled, wild. The wooden cart beside her ignited in an instant, flames racing across its surface. People screamed anew, and the air filled with smoke and terror.
She staggered back, horrified at what she had done. Her hands – her own hands – had called fire into being.
"Elena!" Adrian's voice cut through the panic. He seized her arm, pulling her away just as another rider lunged from the smoke. His sword met Adrian's blade with a crash of sparks, and for a moment the soldier's eyes caught the firelight – not fearful, not hesitant, but burning with fierce determination.
He used the force of the strike, twisting his wrist to lock the soldier's blade against his own, leveraging their combined momentum. With a grunt, he kicked out, catching the rider's horse in the ribs. The beast whined and stumbled, throwing the man's aim off just long enough for Adrian to shove Elena behind the shelter of a burning market stall.
"Stay down!" he yelled, before surging forward into the swirling smoke.
The soldier recovered instantly, his scarred face a mask of focus. He brought his sword down in a sweeping arc, forcing Adrian to duck low. The blade shrieked through the air where his head had been. Adrian responded with a rapid, almost invisible thrust, aiming for the soldier's armored shoulder. The tip of the sword screamed against the steel, glancing off the pauldron, but the impact jarred the soldier's arm.
Two more riders burst from the smoke, forming a terrifying trident formation. Adrian was trapped. He didn't hesitate. Instead of retreating, he vaulted onto the low, wobbly market stall he'd just used for cover. As the first rider charged, Adrian used the instability to his advantage, launching himself into a controlled roll over the horse's neck just as its hooves slammed down where he'd been.
He landed on his feet behind the horse, the momentary confusion of the riders his only window. He whipped his sword out in a low, backhand slash, hamstringing the second horse that was trying to wheel around. The animal collapsed with a sickening thud, throwing its rider into a pile of burning timber.
The third rider, seeing the chaos, drew a heavy, short-handled axe and flung it. Adrian heard the whistling noise a split-second before he saw the glint. He didn't have time to raise his blade. He dropped into a crouch, and the axe spun inches above his helmet, burying itself deep into the wood of a nearby wine barrel. The sound of splintering wood and gushing liquid was deafening.
He didn't wait for the last rider to commit. He lunged, driven by a savage energy, slamming the hilt of his sword straight into the rider's throat before the man could draw another weapon. The mercenary gagged, his grip loosening on the reins. Adrian didn't kill him; he just needed a moment. He grabbed the momentarily stunned rider's collar and violently yanked him from the saddle, using the man's body as a temporary shield as he scanned the smoke for Elena.
He threw the stunned mercenary into the path of the original, scarred fighter, creating a brief entanglement before spinning and disappearing back into the thick, acrid smoke.
"Elena, we have to move now!"
They ran. Through the alleys, past the chapel, over the low stone wall that bordered the fields. Behind them, Greystone was chaos — fire, steel, screams. The Harvest Festival had become a pyre.
When at last they reached the treeline, Elena collapsed, gasping for breath. The mark on her arm glowed like molten iron. She pressed her hand against it, desperate to make it stop.
Adrian knelt beside her, his chest heaving. "It's begun," he said quietly.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror. "What's begun?"
His jaw tightened. "The end. Or the beginning. It depends on you."
The words chilled her more than the night air ever could.
And from the burning village below, the bells tolled, heavy and relentless, as though the world itself had begun to mourn.
The forest swallowed them whole. Branches clawed at Elena's cloak as she stumbled through the undergrowth, her lungs burning with smoke and panic. Behind them, the city was still aflame, orange light flickering between the trees like glow of some monstrous eye. Every few steps, the bells of Greystone tolled, hollow and mournful, chasing her deeper into the dark.
Adrian moved ahead of her with grim efficiency, his strides long and sure despite the uneven ground. He glanced back only once to make sure she kept up, then pressed forward again, hand never straying far from his blade.
"They'll follow," he muttered, voice sharp and low. "The Order never leaves their prey breathing."
Elena's legs trembled with exhaustion, but fear lent her strength. "I… I didn't mean" she gasped, clutching her burning wrist. "The fire … it just..."
"Not now." Adrian cut her off, not unkindly, but with the tone of a man who knew that words were dangerous luxuries. His eyes darted through the shadows, searching for movement.
But the forest was not quiet. Hooves thundered somewhere behind them, distant but drawing closer. The riders had entered the woods. Torches flared between the trunks, like will-o'-the-wisps hunting their prey. Elena's heart lurched. "They'll find us."
"Not if we make them bleed first."
Before she could ask what he meant, Adrian seized her arm and dragged her into a shallow hollow beneath the roots of an ancient oak. The earth smelled of damp rot and moss. He crouched low, listening.
The thunder of hooves grew nearer. Torches weaved through the dark, casting jagged shadows. Elena pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her breath. Her arm burned beneath her sleeve, the mark pulsing in rhythm with her heart.
The first rider appeared, white cloak gleaming like a ghost. His horse's breath plumed in the cold air as he slowed, scanning the forest floor. Another rider followed, then another, until three figures circled the trees where Elena and Adrian crouched hidden.
Adrian's hand tightened on his sword. His other hand brushed against hers briefly, steadying her trembling fingers. His eyes flicked toward the riders, then back to her, a silent command: stay quiet.
The nearest rider dismounted, boots crunching in the frost. He lifted his torch, the light spilling over the oak's tangled roots. His gaze swept closer, closer
Adrian moved.
He sprang from the hollow with the ferocity of a striking wolf, blade flashing in the firelight. The rider barely had time to shout before Adrian's sword cleaved through his helm with a sickening crack. The torch toppled, setting dry leaves alight.
The second rider roared and charged, steel shrieking as it met Adrian's blade. Sparks burst between them. Adrian twisted, parried, and drove his sword up beneath the man's armor. Blood sprayed, hot and dark against the snow-laced leaves.
The third rider turned his horse to flee, perhaps to summon reinforcements, but Elena moved without thinking. Her arm burned like molten iron, the mark searing her skin. She thrust out her hand and screamed.
Flame erupted.
The horse shrieked and reared as fire engulfed its flank. The rider toppled from the saddle, thrashing as crimson fire devoured him. The forest filled with the stench of burning flesh.
Elena fell back, horrified, her hand still glowing with unnatural light. The whispers returned low, insistent, like a voice carried on smoke.
More. Burn more.
"No!" she gasped, clutching her head. "Stop— I don't want this!"
Strong hands gripped her shoulders. Adrian knelt before her, his face hard but his voice steady. "Listen to me. You are stronger than it. Do you hear me? You are not its puppet."
Tears blurred her vision. "I killed him."
"You killed a hunter who would have chained you like an animal," Adrian said. "Don't mourn him. Mourn your city, if you must. But not him."
His words cut, but they steadied her. Slowly, the fire around her hand dimmed, the whispers retreating into silence. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but the mark still glowed faintly, crimson and alive.
Adrian rose, scanning the bodies. He wiped his blade clean on a fallen cloak, then gestured. "We move. Others will come."
They pushed deeper into the forest until the glow of Greystone's flames was nothing but a smear against the horizon. At last, Adrian led her to a ruin half-buried in ivy — an old roadside chapel, its roof caved in, its stone walls cracked but still standing.
Inside, the air was cold and smelled of dust. A broken altar leaned against the far wall, its once-holy carvings eaten away by moss. Adrian struck flint to steel and lit a stub of candle, its dim glow casting long shadows.
"Sit," he ordered gently.
Elena lowered herself onto a splintered bench. Her whole body trembled. When Adrian pulled back her sleeve, she flinched, but he ignored it. His gaze settled on the mark that coiled around her arm like living fire.
"So it's true," he murmured.
She swallowed. "What is it? What's happening to me?"
Adrian's expression hardened. "It's the Crimson Seal. A mark older than the Order, older than the kingdom itself. Wherever it appears, the world trembles. The Order fears it — and what it awakens."
Her chest tightened. "Awakens? What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then met her eyes. "Legends say it's a key. To power buried deep beneath the earth. Fire that once nearly ended the world."
She stared at him, horrified. "You're saying… I carry that?"
"I'm saying the Order thinks you do. And that's enough to make you their enemy."
Silence stretched between them. Outside, the forest groaned in the wind, and somewhere an owl cried.
Finally, Elena whispered, "Why are you helping me, Adrian? You could have left me to them."
His jaw worked, as though he wrestled with words he didn't want to speak. He looked away, shadows cutting across his face. "Because once, someone saved me. And I failed her. I won't fail again."
She wanted to press, to ask who he meant, but the weight in his voice warned her to let it lie.
Instead, she glanced down at the faintly glowing mark on her arm. The candlelight made it seem alive, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
And in that moment, she heard it again — a whisper, faint but clear.
North… come north.
She gasped softly, eyes darting to Adrian. But he hadn't spoken. The whisper had come from the Seal itself.
"Elena?" he asked, noticing her pallor.
She shook her head, though dread coiled in her stomach. "Nothing," she whispered. But it wasn't nothing.
It was a summons.
And she feared that if she followed it, there would be no turning back.