Eis woke to the low crackle of the fire.
For a moment she lay still, listening. The night had thinned into early morning—the quiet just before the forest decided whether to wake. Across the camp, Lira sat on a fallen log with her back straight and her staff resting within reach, eyes fixed on the dark beyond the firelight.
Last watch.
Eis pushed herself upright, careful not to disturb the others. The embers flared softly as she shifted closer to the warmth.
“Anything?” she asked quietly.
Lira glanced over, then shook her head. “Nothing that came close. You slept through it.”
“Good,” Eis said, and meant it.
Ronan stirred next, rolling to a seated position with practiced ease. Kael followed soon after, already reaching for his gear. The camp came apart quickly—bedrolls folded, packs tightened, fire broken down until only cold ash remained.
Morning light filtered weakly through the trees as they worked.
When they were nearly ready to move, Eis spoke.
“During my watch,” she said, tone even, “I felt something.”
All three of them paused.
Ronan looked up at once. “What kind of something?”
“Not movement,” Eis replied. “Not pursuit.” She searched for the right words. “A shift. Like pressure settling into place.”
Lira frowned. “You think he reached it.”
Eis nodded. “The Sun Vault. I’m almost certain.”
Kael exhaled through his nose. “So we’re behind.”
“Not too far,” Eis said. “But he’s no longer traveling.”
Ronan finished cinching his pack and stood. “Then we don’t waste time.”
The decision settled without argument.
They took one last look at the quiet clearing, then turned north, boots finding the road again as the day finally began to wake.
By midmorning, the road narrowed into a carved pass between low cliffs. The caravan guide raised a hand at the crest.
“There,” he said. “Frostford. The last stop before the mountains.”
A small town emerged from the fog—its weathered walls built against the stone ridge, smoke curling from chimneys, the scent of pine burning in the air. Modest. Fortified. Watchful.
As the group approached, the wooden gates opened reluctantly. Not with welcome—
but with caution.
The guards studied them with narrowed eyes, hands hovering near their spears. Even after Ronan presented the guild insignia, their stance barely eased.
“Strangers don’t stay long here,” one muttered.
“No offense meant, but trouble follows outsiders these days.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Ronan’s reply was calm.
“We’re only here for one night. Food, rest, and information.”
That last word made the guards exchange glances—tight, uncertain.
They stepped aside, but with a warning:
“Ask gently. People are uneasy. Too many have gone missing on the northern roads.”
The group entered the town.
Frostford’s streets were narrow, the houses low, their roofs heavy with frost. Most shutters were closed despite the hour. The few people outside moved quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Even Lira—usually quick with a greeting—noticed it immediately.
“This place feels like it’s expecting something to jump out of the earth,” she muttered.
Kael nodded, studying the rooftops.
“Or like something already has.”
They split into pairs to gather information.
Ronan and Eis visited the tannery, where the owner refused to speak at all until Ronan discreetly placed three silver on the counter.
The man finally leaned close, voice low.
“Caravans heading north… they don’t come back. Not for weeks now. Last ones we saw were escorted by men in black coats. Thick collars. Never showed their faces.”
Eis’s eyes narrowed.
Vauren’s men.
Lira and Kael returned from the market with only vague rumors at first—people vanishing after dusk, strange lights near the ridge, a caravan that passed three days ago with “sick-looking passengers.”
But even those whispers cost them coin.
It wasn’t until Kael quietly slid a gold piece across a tavern table that the barkeep finally spoke truth:
“Something’s wrong with the old Sun road,” the barkeep whispered.
“Travelers hear chanting from the cliffs. Chanting—and metal grinding. My cousin saw men hauling crates north under torchlight. Didn’t dare follow.”
He swallowed hard.
“And someone—something—was with them.”
By nightfall, the group reconvened at the town’s only inn—a creaking building wedged against the rock wall. The innkeeper gave them a wide berth, but the rooms were clean, the hearth warm.
They gathered at a long wooden table near the fire, steam rising from bowls of root stew and mugs of herbal broth.
Ronan spread their notes across the table.
“Let’s put it together.”
Eis listened quietly as each piece fell into place.
The Findings
- Multiple caravans passed through heading north toward the Sun road.
- They were escorted by black-coated men, matching the slavers’ description.
- Some escorts had rune-lit eyes—the same implants Eis had seen.
- Locals reported strange chanting and metallic sounds near the cliffs.
- Missing persons, both travelers and locals, had increased drastically in the last month.
- The Sun road was now considered dangerous after dusk—even by hunters who knew the mountains well.
Lira leaned back with a groan.
“So basically, every sign points to ‘this is going to be horrible.’”
Kael nodded.
“But it also points exactly where we need to go.”
Ronan turned to Eis.
“You’ve been quiet. What do you make of it?”
Eis looked down at the notes—then toward the dark window, where frost crept across the glass like thin fingers.
“Vauren is ahead of us,” she said. “And he’s gathering people. Not randomly. Purposefully.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened.
“For a ritual?”
“For something worse,” Eis replied.
Silence settled over the table.
After a long moment, Ronan stood.
“We rest tonight. At first light, we follow the Sun road.”
The others nodded.
And though Eis stayed silent, her thoughts lingered not on the road—
but on the whisper from last night.
The voice that had called through the ley lines.
Whatever waited ahead in the mountains wasn’t merely Vauren.
It was something older.