The whispering wind carried more than just the scent of ash—it carried fear.
Rayden crouched low at the edge of the valley, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Kira loaded her crossbow, eyes narrowed, scanning the dark treeline below. Tessa stood still, her palm pressed against the earth, sensing the threads of magic woven into the soil.
"What do you feel?" Rayden asked quietly.
Tessa's brow furrowed. "Pain. And something else—old magic, twisted. The kind that doesn't belong to this world."
Beneath them, the Gate shimmered faintly, no longer sealed by light but veiled in a mist of black smoke. Faint glowing runes—once bright and sacred—had cracked, bleeding dull red.
Suddenly, a shriek pierced the silence.
They all spun to face the trees.
Out of the shadows came movement—fast, jagged, unnatural. A figure emerged, hunched and cloaked in darkness, its eyes glowing blue-white, its limbs distorted like something trying to wear human skin.
Kira fired without hesitation. The bolt struck the creature's chest, but it barely flinched.
Rayden charged, blade flashing. "Back to the shadows with you!"
The creature lunged. Claws scraped against steel. Tessa chanted, unleashing a wave of blue fire that seared across the battlefield, illuminating dozens of similar figures creeping toward them.
"There's more!" she shouted.
They retreated uphill, holding their ground just enough to escape the tide of corrupted beings swarming from the depths.
Rayden panted, sweat dripping from his brow. "They're crawling out of the Gate."
"We have to warn the others," Kira said. "If this spreads, there won't be a north left to defend."
Tessa nodded. "And we need help. These aren't just broken things—they're possessed. Something from beyond the Gate has taken hold."
Rayden looked down at the valley one last time. "Then we find a way to close it. For good."
---
Meanwhile, in Ashvale...
Queen Velira walked with Sera and Naeya along the palace's glasswalk—an elevated path where the floor shimmered beneath their feet, showing the river flowing below.
"I've mobilized two mage battalions," the queen said. "But my army isn't large enough to fight this alone. If Tharion won't join, we need the Free Lords."
Sera tilted her head. "I thought the Free Lords were mercenaries."
"They are," Velira replied. "But their leader, Lord Kaelion, owes me a favor. He commands nearly three thousand warriors scattered across Aerwyn. He could tip the balance."
Naeya gave Sera a look. "Sounds risky. Mercenaries aren't exactly loyal."
"They are to gold," the queen replied. "And to vengeance. Kaelion lost his brother to the storm's creatures five years ago. He'll want a piece of this war."
Sera stopped walking. "Then we go to him. Tell us where to find Kaelion."
Velira raised an eyebrow. "You never stop moving forward, do you?"
"There's no time to stop," Sera said. "Not until the Gate is closed."
The queen smiled faintly. "Then may the stars guide your steps."
---
Later, in the capital...
High above the throne room of King Tharion, shadows stirred.
A figure cloaked in black stepped from the darkness behind the throne. Her eyes gleamed red beneath her hood. She was no servant. She was The Whispered One, the last of the Night-Speakers—once exiled, now returned.
"My king," she said softly. "You delay while the world burns."
Tharion turned, startled. "Who are you to speak so boldly?"
The woman smiled, a cruel curl of the lips. "The one who sees what your seers ignore. The Gate bleeds. Your kingdom will follow."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, Your Majesty. It is a promise."
She disappeared before the guards could reach her, leaving behind a whisper that echoed through the marble halls.
"The Warden rises, and you do nothing. When the dark claims your crown, do not say I didn't warn you."
---
Far to the East...
The flames of a campfire flickered in the woods near the city of Keldrin.
There, beneath the starless sky, a man sat sharpening his twin swords. Tattoos spiraled across his bare arms, glowing faintly with enchanted ink. His eyes—one gold, one silver—watched the fire in silence.
"Someone's looking for you," a voice said behind him.
The man didn't look up. "Let them look."
"They say the Warden of Light walks again."
Now he glanced up, a grin spreading across his face. "So it begins."
His name was Kaelion the Ghostblade, and he was already moving before the fire died out.