The wind howled through the mountain pass, tearing at the cloaks of the three riders as they approached the dead lands of Ravkor. The peaks, jagged as broken teeth, rose like sentinels to an ancient power long buried but never forgotten.
Leading the way was Eryndor Veyne, Selene's cousin and emissary, chosen for his uncanny ability to read lies like open books and walk among shadows unnoticed. Behind him rode two of the Nightwatch—Kael, a half-shifter with a blade bound to moonlight, and Lysa, a war-scribe who remembered every word ever spoken in her presence.
Their mission was simple in theory: infiltrate Ravkor and uncover whether the House was tied to the Hollow Flame's reawakening.
But nothing about Ravkor had ever been simple.
"This land feels cursed," Kael muttered, tightening his grip on the reins. His eyes scanned the ridgelines. "Even the birds don't fly here."
"They learned," Eryndor said grimly. "Long before we did."
As they reached the pass's peak, the valley below unfolded like a graveyard of a forgotten age. The once-great city of Ravkor, blackened by time and volcanic ash, lay half-buried in silence. No lights. No smoke. No signs of life.
But the glyphs carved into the cliffs pulsed faintly red—the mark of the Hollow Flame.
Lysa dismounted, her fingers already moving to sketch the markings into her journal. "This isn't old magic. Someone refreshed these glyphs recently."
Kael unsheathed his blade. "Then we're not alone."
Eryndor crouched, eyes narrowing. "No, we're being watched."
Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled. A ring of blue fire ignited in a perfect circle around the trio, forcing the horses to rear and scatter. Shadows rose from the edges of the ruins—hooded figures in tattered crimson cloaks.
"Hollow Flame," Eryndor breathed.
One stepped forward, her voice smooth and venomous. "You trespass on sacred ground, emissary."
Eryndor straightened. "I come under the seal of the Crown of Vaeloras. We seek only answers."
"Answers?" The woman chuckled. "Then take this one to your queen."
She tossed a scroll at his feet. Eryndor picked it up carefully, eyes scanning the burning script.
It read:
> She thinks obsession makes her strong.
But obsession is the thread from which madness is stitched.
Soon, we will unravel her mind, her throne, and her love.
The Marked One walks again… and he remembers her name.
A second figure stepped forward, lowering his hood. His face was partially burned, but his eyes gleamed with unholy fire.
Kael gasped. "That's impossible. He died in the War of Embers."
Eryndor gritted his teeth. "No. That's him."
General Malrik, the last high commander of the Hollow Flame—and Selene's former executioner—stood alive.
Malrik's voice was cold. "Tell your queen her past isn't done with her. And neither am I."
The ring of fire exploded outward—blinding and forceful—and when the light faded, the figures were gone.
Only the ash remained.
---
Back in Vaeloras, Selene woke with a start, clutching her chest.
She had dreamed of burning hands, of chains that whispered, and of a name long buried in her nightmares.
Kieran stirred beside her. "What is it?"
Her voice trembled.
"Malrik is alive."
His expression darkened.
The obsession they thought they'd conquered was crawling back from the grave—and it wanted to take everything with it.