Into the Unknown

The road stretched before them, winding through the dense northern forests like a ribbon of mist. The morning air was crisp, laced with the scent of damp earth and pine, but Seraphina felt none of its freshness.

Her focus was ahead—on the path they rode, on the dark weight of the vision still lingering at the edges of her mind.

The Black Vale.

Even the name carried a sense of foreboding.

Alistair rode beside her, his posture composed but rigid. He had barely spoken since they left Ravenglade Keep, his gaze sharp as he scanned the path ahead.

She had the sense that he was listening—not to their surroundings, but to something else. Something unseen.

After a time, she finally broke the silence.

"Have you ever seen the Vale?"

Alistair's gaze flicked toward her, his grip tightening on the reins. "Once."

Seraphina studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders. "And?"

His expression darkened. "It is not a place meant for the living."

The weight of his words settled over them like a heavy cloak. He did not elaborate, and she did not press him. Whatever he had seen there, it was enough to make even him uneasy.

That, more than anything, told her the danger was real.

They rode on, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the air as the road wound deeper into the wilderness. The towering pines loomed like sentinels, their shadows growing longer despite the rising sun.

The land felt *untouched*.

Too still.

As if the world itself was holding its breath.

---

### **A Change in the Air**

It was not yet midday when they reached the first sign of disturbance.

Alistair slowed his horse, scanning the road ahead. "Do you see that?"

Seraphina followed his gaze. At first, she saw nothing unusual—just the dirt road and the towering trees. But then she noticed it.

The forest had *changed*.

The leaves overhead, once a rich green, were now tinged with an unnatural gray. The scent of pine had faded, replaced by something faintly metallic—something that made the back of her throat tighten.

And the air…

It had gone still. *Too* still.

There was no wind. No rustling of leaves. No chirping of birds.

It was as if the world had gone silent.

Seraphina pulled her horse to a stop, dismounting in a single fluid motion. She knelt near the ground, running her fingers over the soil.

It was dry. *Too* dry.

She dug her fingertips into it, expecting the cool dampness of morning dew—only to find the earth brittle and cracked.

Alistair swung down from his horse, crouching beside her.

"This wasn't here before," he murmured.

Seraphina frowned. "It looks as if something has drained the life from it."

She glanced up at the trees. Their bark was splitting, curling back in places as if burned—not by fire, but by something *deeper*.

Something unnatural.

Alistair exhaled slowly. "The Vale's influence is growing."

Seraphina stood, brushing the dirt from her gloves. "Then the path really *is* opening."

A chill ran through her.

The question was *why*.

What had changed?

And what was waiting for them on the other side?

---

### **Whispers in the Mist**

They rode on, the landscape shifting with every mile.

The trees no longer looked like trees—more like husks, their bark bleached and brittle, their roots curling as if trying to escape the earth itself. The ground became uneven, patches of soil caving in as if something had burrowed beneath.

And the air carried a whisper.

Seraphina wasn't sure when she first heard it.

It was faint, barely audible, like distant voices carried on the wind—except there *was* no wind.

She kept her expression neutral, but her grip on the reins tightened.

Alistair slowed his horse beside her. "You hear it."

It wasn't a question.

Seraphina exhaled. "What is it?"

Alistair's gaze remained ahead, his jaw tightening. "Echoes."

"Of what?"

He was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, "Of those who never returned."

A chill settled at the base of her spine.

The Black Vale had always been shrouded in myth—stories of lost souls, whispers in the darkness, shadows that moved when they shouldn't.

But myths did not leave marks on the earth.

Myths did not spread like a sickness.

Whatever this was, it was real.

And it was growing.

---

### **A Fire in the Dark**

By the time the sun dipped below the trees, the temperature had dropped sharply.

Alistair pulled his horse to a stop, glancing at the sky. "We should camp here for the night."

Seraphina studied their surroundings. The ground was firm enough, the skeletal trees providing some cover, but the unnatural stillness unsettled her.

Still, they had no choice.

They worked quickly, gathering what little dry wood they could find to build a fire. The flames crackled weakly, their glow barely seeming to cast warmth against the eerie cold.

Seraphina sat beside the fire, running a whetstone along the edge of her dagger. The repetitive motion steadied her thoughts.

Finally, she spoke. "If the Vale has always been cursed, why is it spreading *now*?"

Alistair, who had been staring into the fire, exhaled. "Something must have disturbed the balance."

Seraphina frowned. "The sword?"

Alistair's gaze flickered toward the Nightbane blade, now resting beside her. He hesitated. "Perhaps. Or perhaps something far older."

She turned the dagger in her hands, watching the firelight catch along its edge. "Then we need to find out what it is—before it finds us."

Alistair looked at her then, his silver eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

"It already has."

A low wind stirred through the trees.

And this time, the whispers did not sound distant.

They sounded *near*.

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