That night, cold, sharp whispers were carried by the wind, as if the world itself had stopped to listen.
The chill in Greyrest wasn't solely caused by the impending frost. Thick enough to taste, it coiled in the shadows between lanterns and lingered in the council chamber walls. It was a storm of unanswered questions, not of wind or rain.
With a rolled map in front of him and his shoulders squared, Ethan stood over the large oak table. The lands beyond Greyrest, where boundaries dissolved and threats increased, were depicted by the charcoal lines that snaked across the parchment as he unfastened the ties and spread it flat.
Blackmere was the name that had been highlighted twice.
Ethan tapped the map and remarked, "It's not abandoned anymore." "Several lights were spotted by our scouts. smoke coming from chimneys that are broken. movement among the fallen stones. Once more, there are people present.
Mearve crossed her arms tightly and frown. Since the Cataclysm, no one has resided in Blackmere. It's a cursed place.
Elen whispered from the other side of the table, "Or forgotten." "Up until now."
With his arms folded, Gerran leaned forward from his position close to the wall. "Do you believe this has anything to do with the raids?"
"Yes," Ethan replied. For weeks, Murn has been sowing the seeds of division and muttering disapproval. Then the North Ridge starts sabotaging us. Someone is now rekindling a ruin with a bloody past. It isn't a coincidence.
Seated with his fingers tucked under his chin, Steward Halric looked toward the windows, where the candlelight flickered. "Are we aware of its occupants?"
Ethan answered, "Not yet." "Our scouts didn't approach closely enough to run the risk of being spotted. However, they could hear chanting. lanterns made with saws. figures with hoods. Armed.
"Cult?" Elen asked in a firm but quiet voice.
"Perhaps. or mercenaries or worse.
Mearve took a step forward, her tone doubtful. "Worse?"
Ethan gave a nod. "They're getting ready, whatever they are. They are also near.
Then there was silence, thick and brittle with suggestion.
At last, Halric broke it. Next, we dispatch a delegation. Not troops. Not just yet. ears and eyes. Someone who can pay attention, watch, and come back.
Ethan said without hesitation, "I'll go." "I've been farther than Greyrest. I'm able to move covertly. And a face is needed for this, this threat. Someone they might undervalue.
Gerran straightened and retorted, "You are the city's leader." "We cannot afford to put you at risk."
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."
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.