THE SUNLESS HEIR

CHAPTER SIX:THE BLEEDING NORTH

The journey to the Blackwood Pass stripped away the illusion of a healed world. As they rode further from the radiant warmth of the capital, the landscape twisted back into a grim reminder of the empire's scars. The snow here did not fall; it drove into the frozen earth like iron nails, howling through the jagged pines.

Kaelen rode at the vanguard, his broadsword resting across the pommel of his saddle. His amber eyes swept the tree line with predatory focus. The shadows beneath the canopy seemed to writhe, responding to the low, anxious thrum of his magic. Behind him, Elian rode with his jaw set, wrapped in a heavy dire-wolf pelt. The Weaver’s golden eyes glowed faintly in the blizzard, an unnatural beacon of heat that kept their mounts from freezing in their tracks, but the exertion was already leaving pale shadows beneath his eyes.

They found the first outpost just before nightfall. It was completely silent. Kaelen signaled for Elian to stay back, dismounting with a fluid, silent grace. The heavy wooden gates were not breached; they were frozen open. As Kaelen stepped into the courtyard, the metallic scent of blood hit him like a physical blow. The Crown's garrison had not been slaughtered by steel. The soldiers lay scattered across the frost, their bodies twisted at unnatural angles, their skin entirely desiccated.

"Life-drain," Kaelen murmured, his voice a harsh rasp against the wind.

Elian stepped up beside him, his breath hitching at the macabre sight. The young Weaver knelt beside a fallen soldier, his bare fingers hovering over the man’s hollowed chest. A sudden, violent tremor shook Elian’s hand as a lingering trace of crimson magic snapped at his warmth like a starving hound.

Kaelen’s shadow instantly lashed out, slicing the crimson thread before it could touch Elian’s skin. He hauled the Weaver to his feet, pulling him flush against his armored chest. "Do not touch them," Kaelen ordered, his grip entirely uncompromising. "A Blood-Weaver does not kill. They consume. They drain the vitality of the living to fuel their own atrocities."

Elian looked up, his golden eyes hardening with a terrifying, radiant fury. "Then we make sure he never eats again."