The wind carried whispers that night, cold and sharp, as though the world itself had paused to listen.
In Greyrest, the chill wasn't just from the coming frost. It lingered in the walls of the council chamber, coiling in the shadows between lanterns, thick enough to taste. A storm was brewing, not one of rain or wind, but of questions left too long unanswered.
Ethan stood over the wide oak table, shoulders squared, a rolled map laid before him. He unfastened the ties and spread it flat, charcoal lines snaking across parchment, the territories beyond Greyrest, where borders blurred and dangers multiplied.
One name had been underlined twice: Blackmere.
"It's not abandoned anymore," Ethan said, tapping the map. "Our scouts saw lights, multiple. Smoke rising from broken chimneys. Movement among collapsed stone. There are people there again."
Mearve frowned, arms crossed tightly. "No one's lived in Blackmere since the Cataclysm. That place is cursed."
"Or forgotten," Elen murmured from across the table. "Until now."
Gerran leaned forward from his place near the wall, arms folded. "You think this is connected to the raids?"
"I do," Ethan said. "Murn's been whispering dissent for weeks, planting seeds of division. Then we're hit with sabotage from the north ridge. Now, someone's rekindling a ruin with a history steeped in blood. It's not coincidence."
Steward Halric, seated with his fingers steepled under his chin, glanced toward the windows, where the candlelight trembled. "Do we know who occupies it?"
"Not yet," Ethan replied. "Our scouts didn't get close enough to risk being seen. But they heard chanting. Saw lanterns. Hooded figures. Armed."
"Cult?" Elen asked, her voice quiet but firm.
"Maybe. Or mercenaries. Or worse."
Mearve stepped closer, her voice skeptical. "Worse?"
Ethan nodded. "Whatever they are, they're preparing. And they're close."
Silence followed — heavy and bristling with implication.
Halric finally broke it. "Then we send a delegation. Not soldiers. Not yet. Eyes and ears. Someone who can listen, observe, and return."
"I'll go," Ethan said without hesitation. "I've traveled beyond Greyrest. I know how to move unseen. And this, this threat, needs a face. Someone they might underestimate."
"You're the leader of this city," Gerran countered, straightening. "We can't afford to risk you."
Ethan looked up from the map. "Every day I lead from within these walls, I risk more than just myself. If we let fear keep us bound to stone, we'll lose the forest while guarding the tree."
Halric gave a small nod. "Then you won't go alone."
Ethan glanced at Elen.
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm already packing."
"Good," he said. "Choose one more to join us. Someone silent. Sharp. Good with people."
"I'll come," Gerran said.
Ethan's lips quirked. "Didn't ask."
"You didn't need to."
That settled it.
"We ride at dawn," Ethan said. "Three of us. No banners. No armor. If they're watching, we go as travelers. Traders, maybe."
Mearve folded her arms. "And Murn?"
At the name, the warmth in the room all but vanished.
Halric's expression turned to iron. "Murn has no seat in this council. He was never chosen, never sworn. Whatever weight he carries comes from shadows and frightened minds, not from this hall."
Ethan added, "If we return to find he's pushed further, spread more poison, we deal with it. Publicly."
There were no objections.
No one doubted anymore that Murn's time was running short.
Later that evening, Ethan walked Greyrest's winding streets. Lanterns flickered behind windows, smoke curling from chimneys, and the smell of bread drifted from bakeries shutting for the night. The city was healing, cautiously, like a wounded animal, but healing nonetheless.
At the apothecary, he paused.
Inside, Lina sat perched on a stool, slate in hand, sketching quickly as Mearve looked on, half amused, half exasperated.
"She's obsessed with archways now," Mearve said without turning. "Next week it was ceiling supports. Now it's temple vaults."
"She dreams big," Ethan murmured.
"She's already asking to see load-bearing charts. Wants to design something that 'feels like a breath held in stone.' Her words, not mine."
Ethan smiled. "Let her. Greyrest needs dreamers as much as it needs stone and steel."
Mearve glanced at him. "She's got yours in her veins."
He didn't answer, only nodded and moved on, down toward the outer wall where the stars blinked cold and watchful above the town.
There, silhouetted against the starlit ridgeline, stood Alder Murn.
Ethan approached without haste.
"You know," he said, his voice level, "you've overstayed your welcome."
Murn didn't turn. "I've only ever walked where others leave doors open."
"No one opened the door to doubt. Or fear."
Murn finally faced him. "You think belief is enough to hold a city together?"
"I think it's stronger than the lies you've been feeding."
"Greyrest isn't yours to shape," Murn said, a trace of something darker in his tone. "Ideas don't belong to one man."
At that, Ethan's jaw tightened.
Because when Murn said his name — Ethan, there was a knowing behind it. Something ancient. Something that didn't belong to this world.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "I don't know who you really are. But when I return, if you're still here turning hearts against each other, you'll be gone. One way or another."
Murn only smiled faintly.
Ethan left him in the silence, that uneasy chill lingering like smoke in the bones.
At first light, they rode out, Ethan in the lead, Gerran beside him, and Elen behind, eyes sharp beneath her hood. The road curled into the mist beyond the gates, forest rising on either side, the horizon a blur of frost and light.
As they passed the last row of farmhouses, faces appeared, peeking from porches, leaning from lofts. Children waved, and women watched in silence.
Among them stood Lina.
She didn't wave. Just crossed her arms and nodded, fierce and firm.
Ethan met her gaze and nodded back.
No words. Just promise.
Behind him, Greyrest stood, incomplete, imperfect, but rising.
Ahead, the road to Blackmere waited, winding into the unknown.
And Ethan rode not just for answers.
But for the future he'd promised.