Chapter 32
They came from the East beneath banners stitched from windcloth and memory.
Not warriors.
Envoys.
Two riders. One blind, the other mute. Both wore the Hollowheart emblem, a vine coiled through a broken ring. Forgotten by many. Feared by more.
“The Pact endures,” said the blind one.
They did not ask for audience. They waited at the edge of the camp until Elira arrived.
“You should not be here,” Cyra said, arms crossed.
The blind envoy turned toward her voice. “Then it’s good we are not here to be seen.”
The mute one opened a scroll and offered it without bowing.
Elira took it.
Read it once. Twice.
And felt something old curl in her chest.
“They want to revive the Accord.”
Letters of Ash and Thread
The scroll was written in bloodroot ink, laced with truth-thread spe
