The Kingdom of Avalon was built on a single, unyielding truth, whispered on the wind that swept over its pristine waters and etched into the stones of its ancient fortresses: everything has a price. Here, the impossible was made possible, but only for those willing to pay. The foolish, who reached for power with greedy, open hands, died screaming. The secretive, who understood the value of a silent bargain, were rewarded. Every wish, from the grandest dream of immortality to the simplest desire for a bountiful harvest, carried a cost, and those who defaulted were cursed, their lives twisted into a reflection of their own avarice. This was the first and final lesson for any who sought power within its borders.
"Boy. Come here. It is time for your training."
The voice of Logan Veyru, Patriarch of the family, cut through the morning chill of the stone courtyard. It was not a voice that invited discussion; it was a command, flat and hard as granite.
Kahn Veyru, barely sixteen summers old, lowered the practice sword he had been swinging in a repetitive, exhausting arc. His muscles screamed in protest, a dull, familiar ache. He approached the old man, who stood as still and imposing as a monolith, his hands clasped behind his back. Logan's eyes, the color of a winter sky, held no warmth, only assessment.
"Boy, listen carefully," Logan began, his gaze pinning Kahn in place. "In the world beyond our walls, everything has a price. A meal costs coin. Loyalty costs blood. But even more so in our world, the world beneath the world, the price is not just a transaction. It is a law. It is the fabric of reality."
He took a step closer, and the air itself seemed to grow heavier.
"Here," Logan emphasized, tapping a bony finger against Kahn's chest, right over his heart, "every wish has a price, and those who fail to pay it end up cursed to the extent of their wish. A man who wishes for wealth and fails to pay might see his family starve. A woman who wishes for love and reneges may find herself eternally, utterly alone. Remember it well, boy. This knowledge is not just power; it is your shield. It will serve you, or it will destroy you. There is no middle ground."
The words, though heard a hundred times before, landed with a new, chilling weight.
"Yes, Patriarch." Kahn bowed, the formal motion hiding the turmoil in his eyes. He turned and left the courtyard, the old man's stare burning a hole between his shoulder blades.
This is really frustrating, he thought, the internal monologue a frantic counterpoint to his calm exterior. Why is the path to power so shrouded in fear? No… we need to understand. He's right. Magic is great, a force that can reshape the world, but the cost… the cost is scary. He flexed his hand, remembering the first time he'd cast a minor spell and felt a sliver of his own vitality a single point of Vita flicker and vanish into the nothingness . I need to gain more knowledge. The more I know, the better I can navigate the costs. Once I become a first-order being, my authority will expand. The plunder will be greater, the costs relatively smaller. It will become easier.
Seeking solace in the tangible, he focused his will inward. A translucent screen, visible only to him, materialized in his vision, its script glowing with a soft, silver light:
[SKULD ACCORD]
NAME: Kahn Veyru
VITA: 1200
Mmh, not bad for a month of training, he mused, leaning against the cold stone wall of his chamber. But it's pretty grueling. The gains are so slow, so incremental. He pictured the vast gulf between his current state and the shimmering threshold of the first order—a chasm that would require a river of Vita to cross. I need to go on a hunt. A real one, beyond the practice dummies and the Patriarch's watchful eye. A grim determination settled in his gut. But first, I'll rest. I need to be sharp. And tomorrow, I'll hunt. Hah. Soon, I'll be able to bring forth the impossible. I will not be trapped in this slow crawl forever.
---
The first morning rays, sharp and golden, cut through the narrow window of his room, painting a bright line across his face. He woke instantly, the lingering fatigue of the previous day burned away by a new, sharper resolve. Today, more creatures will fall by my blade. Today, I take a real step forward.
He dressed quickly, pulling on sturdy leathers and checking the edge of his hunting knife. His bow, a beautifully crafted piece of Heartwood, felt like an extension of his own arm as he slung it over his shoulder.
"Hey Kahn, going out today?"
The voice belonged to Lith, a cousin a few years his senior who was manning the family's outer gate. His tone was light, but his eyes held a note of caution.
"Yes, Lith. I'm going out," Kahn replied, his voice tighter than he intended.
"Just remember to be careful," Lith said, nodding toward the mist-shrouded forest that lay beyond the protective runestones marking the Veyru border. "The Greywood is restless. And don't go beyond the border. The Patriarch would have my head, and yours."
"I know the rules," Kahn said, a flicker of irritation rising within him. The rules were a cage. The border was a leash.
He stepped past the gate, and the atmosphere changed instantly. The curated, safe energy of the Veyru grounds was replaced by the wild, untamed breath of the Greywood. The weather wasn't good; a thick, damp mist clung to the gnarled trees, muting the world to shades of grey and green. The air was cold and heavy with the scent of pine, damp earth, and something else… something metallic and wild. I'll manage. I have to. I'll see how this goes. He took a deep breath. Mmh, it's better to start going right now than later. Every moment wasted is a point of Vita lost.
He moved a hundred paces into the tree line, finding a small, sheltered clearing. This was far enough. Closing his eyes, he reached inward, to the core of his being where his connection to the Skuld Accord resided. He focused his intent, not as a request, but as a declaration.
[Mors Venaris]
A warmth flared against his skin, followed by a sharp, needle-like pain directly over his heart. When he looked down, a complex, blood-red rune, no larger than a coin, glowed faintly through his tunic before fading from sight. It was a silent vow between him and the Accord, a sacred some would say profane ritual of predation. For the next several hours, his very being was a conduit, designed for a single purpose: to plunder the Vita of others.
The forest seemed to sharpen around him. The colors became more vivid, the sounds more distinct. He was now a hunter, and the world was his hunting ground.
Kahn moved like a ghost through the mist, his footsteps making no sound on the thick carpet of moss and fallen needles. It took twenty minutes of patient stalking before he spotted his prey: a Great-Horned Stag, a magnificent creature with a coat like dappled sunlight and antlers that resembled a miniature, barren tree. It was drinking from a small stream, utterly unaware.
Kahn's breath stilled. He nocked an arrow, the motion fluid and practiced. He drew the fletching to his cheek, the Heartwood of the bow bending with a familiar tension. He aimed, not for the body, but for the small, fatal point at the base of the skull. He exhaled slowly, and on the pause between breaths, he released.
The arrow flew with a soft thrum, a whisper of death. It struck true, piercing straight through the animal's head. The stag collapsed without a sound, its life extinguished in an instant.
A surge of energy, warm and invigorating, flowed through Kahn's veins, a sensation both thrilling and deeply unsettling. The notification appeared, a cold, numerical counterpoint to the death he had just delivered.
[VITA +100]
A grim satisfaction warred with a pang of something else remorse? He shoved it down. This was the way of Avalon. This was the path.
This takes too long, he thought, the frustration returning in a wave. One hundred Vita. At this rate, I'll need to kill a hundred such creatures just to reach the first order. And I don't have that much hunting authority; the family strictly regulates our forays to maintain balance. I only have 8 quotas left for this year. The math was despairing. Damn it. Eight quotas, maybe eight hundred Vita if I'm lucky and find strong prey. It's not enough. It will never be enough at this rate.
He stood over the stag's body, the dilemma tearing at him. Should I go back? Return with this single kill and be content with my meager progress? Or… should I just finish all my quotas here and now? Use the tools at my disposal to maximize this hunt?
The memory of Logan's warning flashed in his mind: "…cursed to the extent of their wish." But this wasn't a wish, he reasoned. This was… acceleration. It was efficiency.
Screw it, he decided, the heat of his ambition melting his caution. I'm finishing it today.
He focused his will once more, formulating a different kind of request to the Accord. He needed to find his prey, all of it, and he needed to do it quickly.
[Call of the Wind]
The world did not just change; it inverted. Color leached away, leaving a landscape of stark black and white. Sound became something he could see—rippling waves of silver and grey that pulsed from every living thing. The chirp of a distant bird was a shimmering ribbon. The scuttling of a beetle under a log was a tiny, vibrating dot. It was overwhelming, a symphony of life translated into a blinding visual cacophony.
[Price Calculating…]
He ignored the prompt, focusing his intent. Find me my prey. Herd animals. Concentration of life. He narrowed the scope of the spell with surgical precision, filtering out the insects, the birds, the lone, small creatures. He searched for a chorus of similar heartbeats.
And there it was. A cluster of pulsing, bright silver signatures, about half a mile to the northeast, moving slowly through a grove of ironwood trees. Five of them. Deer.
Found you.
He opened his eyes, and the world crashed back into color and normal sound. The transition left him momentarily dizzy, a faint throb building behind his temples.
[Price: 20 Vita]
A small price for such precise intelligence. But he wasn't done. He had no intention of stalking them through the dense, misty grove. He would solve this problem from right here, with overwhelming force. It was wasteful, extravagant, and exactly what his frustrated soul craved.
[Guided Arrows]
This was a more complex working, requiring a significant outlay of power. He felt the Vita within him coalesce, flowing down his arms and into the five arrows he drew from his quiver.
[Price: 100 Vita]
He didn't flinch. He notched all five arrows, a move that would be pure folly for a mundane archer, and fired them in a high, arcing volley into the sky. They sailed up, disappearing into the low-hanging mist. But his connection to them did not break. In his mind's eye, he saw them—five points of his own will, streaking through the grey. He was the guidance system. He felt the wind, calculated the drop, and with a final, mental push, he commanded them to find their targets.
It was a drain on his focus, a bit of a waste of Vita to shoot from such an extreme distance, but Kahn was far beyond caring about efficiency now. He was pissed, he was bored with the grind, and he wanted to feel the raw, intoxicating flow of power.
A moment later, five distinct surges of energy hit him in rapid succession, a wave of invigorating heat that made his heart hammer and his breath catch. It was a feeling of profound vitality, of stolen life force flooding his being. The notifications flickered at the edge of his vision.
The arrows, thousands of feet away, had found their marks.
He stood there, panting slightly in the silent clearing, the adrenaline slowly fading. The deed was done. The quotas were spent. He pulled up his status, a smirk touching his lips as he saw the result of his ruthless efficiency.
[SKULD ACCORD]
NAME: Kahn Veyru
VITA: 1580
He was closer. Significantly closer. But as the last echoes of the plundered Vita faded within him, a cold clarity returned. He looked down at his hands, then back toward the direction of the Veyru estate. The Patriarch's words echoed once more in the newfound silence, now carrying a darker, more personal warning.
Everything has a price. Kahn had paid the Vita cost for his spells. But as he stood alone in the mist-shrouded woods, the weight of five more deaths on his soul, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just incurred a different kind of debt altogether. One whose final bill had yet to come due.