The wind that swept across the borderlands of Blackmoor carried more than just the sting of cold. It carried whispers—faint murmurs of old blood, dead warriors, and secrets never meant to surface.
Ashyra stood at the edge of the Blackmoor ruins, cloak billowing behind her as she stared at the desolate remains of what was once a thriving stronghold. Crumbled stone walls clawed at the sky like broken teeth. Moss and rot had reclaimed much of the land, but beneath the decay, magic still lingered—old, restless, dangerous.
“This is where he started,” Kael murmured beside her. “Before he became the thing that haunts our shadows.”
“Malrick was born here?” Stephan asked from behind them.
Kael shook his head. “No. But this is where he died. The first time.”
Ashyra felt the pulse of her bond fl
