The King's Briefing
In the Tower of Reignlight, high above the capital's gilded dome, King Velnor of Valebright stared out across the horizon.
Beside him stood the Wizard King — cloaked in storm-threaded robes, his eyes unreadable.
"They're calling him the pendant-bearer," Velnor said.
"Ashamed, really," the Wizard King replied. "They should be calling him by name."
"He's an orphan."
"He's something more than that now."
The King turned. "You felt it too, then?"
The Wizard King nodded once. "Anti-magic. Not borrowed, not forged. Born."
Velnor's jaw tightened. "There's no record. No prophecy. Nothing like this has ever manifested."
"Which makes him either a blessing… or a very patient curse."
Outside the Tower, storm clouds curled unnaturally above the southeastern horizon.
The Wizard King's gaze narrowed. "The Bleeding Marsh stirs."
Squad Assignment
The map-room in the Halloween Banner's manor flickered with magical illumination. Lines of color shifted across a floating projection of the southeastern marshlands, pulsing faintly where ley lines once flowed.
Drael stood at the head of the table, arms folded, his cloak draped like smoke across his shoulders. The squad gathered — loosely, of course. Tess sat cross-legged on the table itself, her doll perched beside a glowing rune. Kael leaned back in his chair, boots propped up. Lina stood behind Ashen, ever-watchful.
Drael tapped a rune and the map spun, zooming in on a twisted tree line covered in mist. "We've been assigned reconnaissance. No direct engagement unless absolutely necessary."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "That usually means we're the bait."
"Then chew carefully," Brill muttered, flipping through a spellbook.
Tess hummed. "The trees were singing in the fog again. Not good songs."
Ashen spoke. "What are we expecting out there?"
Drael didn't answer immediately. He walked toward the projection, his fingers tracing the edges of a red-glowing circle.
"Last week, a team from Iron Root was dispatched to check leyline integrity in this area."
"And?" Lina asked.
"No return. No signal. No wreckage."
Kael sat up. "Wait, Iron Root disappeared?"
"Reported missing. That's not public knowledge. Neither is our mission."
Ashen looked at the red circle. "It feels wrong."
Drael glanced at him. "Your pendant reacted before we even pulled the order."
"It did?"
"Yes."
Ashen's hand brushed the pendant. It was warm. Not glowing — just aware.
"Don't let that thing pull your nerves apart," Kael said. "Let me do that."
Brill cut in. "This area was once considered unstable. Post-concord overflow site. But there's no record of recent magical activity, which… might be the point."
"Magic doesn't vanish," Lina said. "It leaves scars."
Drael nodded. "We move at dawn. Light gear, heavy discipline. Tess, you're recon. Brill, scanning. Lina, perimeter. Kael, distraction if needed."
"And me?" Ashen asked.
Drael looked him in the eye. "Stay alert. No power surges. No experiments. You are to observe."
Ashen nodded — but the pendant pulsed again, like a breath held under water.
Far away, in the ruins of a buried sanctum, six marked figures stood within a circle of broken stone. Cloaked, masked, and branded by magic's rejection — they were known only by whispers: the Dreadmarked.
Each knelt before old symbols etched into ash.
None spoke. They didn't need to.
Somewhere deep underground, glyphs cracked open one by one — ancient, brittle. Their purpose long forgotten.
And far above, a shadow shifted. It did not move. It simply... watched.
Arrival at the Fringe
The Halloween Banner stood at the edge of the southeastern marshes by first light. Mist clung low to the swampgrass, and trees warped inward like bowed sentinels guarding something they couldn't name.
Tess sniffed the air. "It smells… rehearsed."
Kael frowned. "That's not a scent, that's a metaphor."
She pointed at the nearest root, where moss shimmered faintly under dew. "Look at the water. Still. Too still."
Ashen crouched, trailing his hand near the surface of a bog pool. The water didn't ripple — it waited. The pendant at his neck vibrated, not with danger, but with a kind of strained curiosity.
Brill's eyes glowed faintly as he chanted a spell to analyze the ambient magic. Nothing responded.
"No leyline flow," he muttered. "But not broken either. Just… paused."
Lina motioned them forward. "Fan out. Keep eyes sharp. Silence until signal."
They moved into formation. Trees thickened. Bark looked scalded. Fungal blooms stretched upward unnaturally.
Ashen whispered, "This doesn't feel wild. It feels… drawn."
At the heart of the marsh clearing, they found the remnants of a shattered obelisk — barely a meter tall now, its surface slick with ash. Symbols were carved in ancient script, but every glyph had been slashed through.
Drael emerged from the mist. "Circle perimeter. I want two rings scanned."
Ashen stepped closer to the obelisk. The pendant burned cold against his chest. It wasn't pain — it was resonance.
He whispered, "Something's listening."
Then, without warning, the clearing went silent. No birds. No wind.
Tess's voice cut through the quiet from above, "Company."
Shadows moved beyond the trees — not charging, not hiding. Just… standing. Watching.
"Positions," Drael said, his voice low.
Ashen's heart pounded. The pendant thrummed like a warning.
But the shadows didn't approach. They just turned… and melted into the fog.
Echoes in the Fog
The squad held their positions, waiting for an ambush that never came. Mist clung to their boots and cloaks, and silence remained like a weight on their skin.
Tess dropped down from the canopy. "They weren't beasts. Weren't mages either. But they knew we were here."
Kael spun his blade once in his fingers. "Creeps who just watch? That's a new one."
"They weren't watching," Brill said. "They were remembering."
Lina narrowed her eyes. "That's not funny."
"It wasn't a joke."
Drael stepped forward, eyes locked on the slashed obelisk. "These are older than Concord Law. Pre-Archive. This stone was meant to be forgotten."
Ashen stepped beside him. "Why was it slashed?"
"Because someone didn't want it remembered."
Tess nodded. "Erased memory, erased magic. Same practice. You erase the name to erase the threat."
Kael sheathed his blade. "So we just report this and leave?"
"No," Drael said. "We stay until the source of the disturbance is mapped."
A vibration cracked through the mist — faint, like chimes beneath water. Brill's orb pulsed green, then dimmed again.
"Something just brushed the leyline," he said. "Like a shadow moving behind glass."
Drael's cloak flared with dark mist. "Lina, perimeter again. Kael, shadow counter-check. Ashen—"
The pendant pulsed sharply. Ashen staggered, clutching his chest.
"Something's... humming," he whispered. "Low. Like under my skin."
"Suppress it," Drael ordered.
"I'm not summoning anything."
"It's summoning you," Tess murmured. "Or maybe just... listening back."
Fog Turns to Flame
The shift came with no sound — only heat.
Ashen jerked his head up as the fog turned orange. Flames slithered across the treetops like whispers taking shape.
Kael cursed. "That's fire magic — but not ours!"
Drael stepped forward. "Hold positions. This isn't a natural burn."
The flames curved, forming an arc — they didn't spread. They circled the clearing, drawing a line in the marsh.
Brill stared, stunned. "It's not consuming anything... it's writing."
Ashen's pendant throbbed violently. Runes shimmered in the air, burnt in reverse — not cast, but unwritten.
"They're undoing," Tess said.
A figure cloaked in red-streaked gray stepped from the fog, face hidden by a cracked metal mask.
He didn't attack. He walked slowly to the edge of the flame-circle.
Drael's voice dropped. "Everyone—silent."
The figure raised a hand. No spell. No threat. Just silence.
Ashen couldn't breathe.
Then the figure looked at him.
And whispered a name Ashen had never heard — but somehow recognized.
Reality snapped.
The pendant ignited in cold shadow. Ashen collapsed.
A pillar of black-red flame burst skyward.
Drael roared. "Formation! Defensive shield!"
The fire vanished. The figure was gone.
Ashen lay in the dirt, panting.
"I saw..." he gasped. "I saw... something behind his eyes."
"What?" Tess asked.
Ashen shivered. "A door. And it wasn't closed."
Return and Report
They left the marsh before dusk. Tess didn't sing. Brill didn't lecture. Kael didn't joke.
That night, by the watchfire, Ashen sat alone. His fingers brushed the pendant, and the memory returned — not as a flashback, but a breath still held.
He walked through a corridor lined with shattered obsidian mirrors. Each showed a different him. Crowned. Burned. Missing.
At the end: a black stone door, cracked open. Whispers spilled from it — screams, names, spells.
He reached toward it—
—and suddenly stood inside the masked figure's mind. Fire. Chains. Loyalty. Pain.
Above: a sigil flickering in the sky. Not a symbol. A name.
If I speak that name aloud, something will find me.
He gasped awake, clutching the pendant.
They weren't just watched out there. They were called.
And something had remembered him first.