The wind over Frostwind Peaks was colder than usual.
Kai stood on the outer balcony of the eastern watchtower, watching the narrow road twist along the cliffside below. In the distance, a procession of riders and carts moved slowly toward the Trine Pass checkpoint, just where Northern Star territory ended and the rest of the world began.
It wasn't a merchant caravan. He could tell that from the way they moved—too tightly grouped, too heavily armed. Crimson banners fluttered at the lead wagon. Stitched into the fabric were black ravens mid-dive.
Unfamiliar.
Naomi's voice came from behind. "Another supply train?"
He didn't take his eyes off the distant figures. "No. Something else."
"What then?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Trouble, maybe."
Three days earlier – Trine Pass border
The checkpoint square reeked of melting snow, old incense, and blood. Three groups had arrived at once, each standing apart from the others like wolves pretending to be dogs.
On one side, disciples of the Wandering Moon Sect lounged on crates. Their veils and light armor shimmered with shadow enchantments, eyes hidden behind silken masks. Whisper traders, secret-keepers—never friends, rarely enemies.
Near the checkpoint gates, guards from the Thornspire Legion stood in dull gold armor, their spears polished but their boots muddy. Mercenaries with no allegiance, only contracts.
Across from them, the newest arrivals kept their hoods drawn low. They bore no sigils, but their robes were pale green, lined with silver serpent stitching. The Rime Serpent Clan, if the rumors were true. Cold cultivators with venom in their veins.
In the center of the stone courtyard, a merchant's body still steamed from the chest up. His cart had been cracked open from within. Half-melted vines of black decay curled along the wood.
No one claimed the body.
No one touched the vines.
Back in the sect...
Elder Borin tapped the crystal scroll once more. The image of the ravaged cart shimmered, then dissolved. Silence followed, thick and expectant.
In front of him stood three disciples: Kai Duskthorn, Orin Vale, and Sura Lang.
"You'll be heading to Trine Pass," Borin said, adjusting his mask slightly. "They're calling it a supply escort, but that's just the excuse. I want eyes on that checkpoint."
"Blight?" Orin asked, frowning.
"Possibly. But smarter than usual, if it's crawling out of trade carts now."
Kai stepped forward. "Do we know who the dead trader was?"
"None of the factions will claim him," Borin said. "Which means he was useful to all of them. Or dangerous to someone."
He leaned back slightly. "And if the vines are what I think they are… I want confirmation."
On the road east
Travel across the inner sect lands was quiet—snow-covered trails lined with spirit lamps and frozen shrines. The deeper they went, the more the atmosphere changed.
By the second day, Orin noticed the first signs.
One of the old frost boundary stones was split. Cracks spidered along its base, dark and still. A small shrine to the mountain spirits had collapsed. No footprints. No damage. Just collapsed.
Sura pointed out the second sign—a pine tree whose roots had rotted black from the inside. There was no frost rot. No Qi burn. No signs of animals. Just the smell of stagnant silence.
Kai crouched beside it, running his fingers through the earth.
"It's not fire," he muttered. "Not frost either."
"Then what?" Sura asked.
Kai didn't answer.
Arrival at Trine Pass
The checkpoint loomed above them, iron and stone crowned in frost lanterns. Banners hung limp in the wind. The outpost guards didn't even look surprised to see sect robes.
Kai handed over the sealed scroll from Elder Borin. The gate opened without question.
Inside the courtyard, near a smoking brazier, stood a familiar figure. His crimson robe flickered with fire crests, his short braid undone.
"Well, look who froze their way east," Riku Flamewind said, raising a steaming cup to his lips. "Didn't think you'd be sent out this far."
Kai walked past him without smiling. "Didn't think you'd still be playing escort boy."
"Escort boy's getting paid," Riku said, shrugging. "Plus, someone's gotta stop these outer sect freaks from smuggling shadow dust."
Orin looked up. "Shadow dust?"
Sura gave him a quiet look. "It's just a myth. Right?"
Riku didn't reply.
That evening
The checkpoint's inner square turned quiet after dusk. The market was sparse—half the stalls were closed, the others selling cheap talismans and cold bread. The few merchants present looked half-starved or half-scared.
Kai walked through the square alone.
At one corner, a Wandering Moon disciple sharpened their blade. They didn't speak, but they followed him with their eyes.
Across from the grain store, a merchant was being led away by Thornspire guards. His shirt had slipped slightly, revealing black ink crawling beneath the skin along his spine.
Not a tattoo. A glyph. Moving.
Corrupted.
Kai blinked—and the mark was gone.
He looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed.
Later, in the barracks tent
Sura and Orin sat near the lantern, quiet.
Kai sat cross-legged, still trying to ignore the cold edge digging into the back of his skull—the memory of that glyph, and the silence in the trees they passed on the way here.
Sleep didn't come easily.
When it did, it brought snow.
He stood alone in a vast field of white, where the frost rose like smoke. A shadow towered above him, its form cloaked in ice and darkness.
He couldn't see its face.
But he felt its voice.
You were born for more than vengeance.
When he woke, the frost mirror above his cot had cracked from corner to corner.