The morning in Greyspire was sharp and clean, the city's towers catching fire in the dawn. Eliakim strode into the guild hall, the familiar weight of his satchel resting against his hip, the Collar of Veyrun faintly pulsing against his thumb as if aware of something unseen.
The guild officer was waiting for him behind the counter, posture formal."Eliakim Darkmoor. After review of your recent contributions—particularly the Golden Thief Bug—you've been promoted to Copper Rank."
A ripple of murmurs went through the hall. Eliakim accepted the words without flourish."Means more work for me, I assume?"
"More freedom. Fewer restrictions. And a job that suits your… discretion." She slid a sealed parchment toward him. "Side quest. Reconnaissance beyond the western gate. Reports of elemental anomalies—fire and frost in the same location, north of the Emberroot Plains."
"Frost and fire side by side?" Eliakim raised an eyebrow.
The officer leaned forward. "And sightings of armed men near the Frostfang foothills. Your route may overlap with another adventurer—big man, twin axe. You might know him."
Eliakim tucked the parchment away, a small smirk touching his lips. "Seems they're making sure we meet."
That same morning, Gideon stood in Darric Ironhew's forge, the heat and clang of metal filling the air. The blacksmith traced the map with a thick, calloused finger.
"You'll find the dual-element stone here, in the rift valleys near Frostfang's base. Fire and frost meet there. Dangerous ground."
Gideon slung his twin axe over his shoulder. "I'll bring it back. Then this weapon will be something worth passing down."
By midmorning, Eliakim spotted him leaning against the western gate, scanning the crowd.
"You're heading toward the Frostfang foothills," Eliakim said as he approached.
"That obvious?" Gideon grinned. "Let me guess—same job?"
"More or less." Eliakim tilted his head toward the road. "We might as well walk together."
But before they could leave the gate's shadow, a quiet voice interrupted.
"You two. Going west?"
They turned to see a woman standing just beyond the arch, cloaked in deep ash-grey, a tall staff in her hand carved with flowing lines of ink that seemed to shift when one looked too long. Her hair was black as midnight ink, her eyes a dark violet so deep they seemed to pull light inward rather than reflect it.
"I overheard your route," she said softly, voice calm and precise. "The anomalies in the plains interest me."
Gideon frowned. "And who are you supposed to be?"
"Ezra Nightfall," the woman replied without hesitation. "Occult scholar. Some call me a prophet, though I'd rather they didn't."
Up close, Eliakim caught unsettling details: her heartbeat was unnervingly slow—he could almost hear the spacing between beats—and there was no warmth in her skin. When the wind tugged at her sleeve, black stains marked the cloth, as though ink had bled through from within.
"What do you want with fire and frost?" Eliakim asked.
Ezra's gaze flicked between them, unreadable. "Balance is rare in this world. And sometimes… unnatural balance is a sign of the gate opening."
Gideon's brow furrowed. "What gate?"
Ezra didn't answer directly. Instead, she murmured something that sounded like a line from a prophecy:"The heir of seven shall be the gate, the key, or the knife."
Eliakim's muscles tightened instinctively, though his expression stayed neutral.
Ezra's voice was calm, detached. "I believe our paths will converge whether you invite me or not. Better that I walk in plain sight."
The silence stretched. Then Eliakim nodded once. "Fine. But out here, you follow orders."
Ezra inclined her head in agreement, though there was no sign she considered herself subordinate.
The three set off together, the western road carrying them toward the wild horizon. The Emberroot Plains rolled ahead, dotted with jagged black stones, while far in the distance the pale line of the Frostfangs shimmered like a mirage.
The wind carried strange scents—ash, and the crisp bite of winter—switching between the two without warning.
Eliakim glanced between his companions: Gideon with his grounded strength, Ezra with her cryptic stillness. He didn't yet know whether they'd make a perfect balance or a dangerous fracture.
But one thing was certain. Something ahead was drawing all of them to the same place.