The Ashfall Pact

Snow burned as it fell.

Not from cold, but from the sorcery laced within it — ash white, but scalding to the touch. As the flakes drifted silently across Frostfang, they shimmered with cursed heat. Children cried out in the streets. Soldiers wrapped their faces with cloth soaked in vinegar. The air tasted like singed bone.

From the highest tower, Kaelin stood alone, her gauntlet hissing as she caught one of the flakes in her palm. It smoked and curled in her grip, but she didn't flinch.

"The Vulture King poisons even the skies now," she murmured.

Behind her, the war bell tolled twice — the signal for "incoming force, unknown banners."

Within moments, Aldric joined her. His armor gleamed with fresh polish, his eyes bloodshot but burning with purpose. Rowena arrived next, her bow slung behind her back, her fingers twitching for conflict. And Maerlyn — she stepped from the shadows like smoke solidifying, black robes fluttering in a wind none could feel.

"What is it?" Rowena asked, scanning the horizon.

Aldric raised his spyglass. "Not an army... a caravan."

The group emerged from the far road like a fever dream: cloaked riders on beasts that shimmered like glass, their reins braided from gold and bone. At the head was a rider in silver armor stained with ink-black runes. His face was hidden beneath a visor shaped like a fox's skull.

Maerlyn's breath caught. "I know that armor..."

"Friend or foe?" Aldric asked.

She didn't answer.

The Envoy of the Black Accord

The gates of Frostfang creaked open, wary and groaning. The stranger dismounted with fluid grace, walking without sound. His retinue stayed behind, unmoving.

"I come as an envoy," he said. His voice was distorted, layered with something not entirely mortal.

Rowena's hand hovered near her dagger. "From where?"

The visor turned toward her. "From the Ebon Accord. From the Deep Pact. From the forgotten name whispered in the earth's oldest veins."

Aldric frowned. "Speak clearly."

The stranger removed his helmet. Beneath it was no face — only stars. Infinite, swirling, terrible stars.

Even Kaelin took a step back.

"I am called Velorian," the being said. "And I come with an offer. You will fall without it."

A Deal in Shadows

Inside the war hall, with every rune lit and every blade ready, Velorian stood in the firelight like a god who had walked too long among the dead. Maerlyn would not sit — she circled him like a hawk, lips whispering counter-spells.

"You are one of the Writ-Walkers," she said at last. "Your kind were banished."

"I returned," Velorian said, voice echoing in too many places. "Because what rises now... is older than kings, older than curses."

"The Vulture King?" Aldric asked.

Velorian laughed — a sound like shattering glass.

"He is a vessel. A larval shell for something beneath. You think you fight a tyrant. You fight a gate."

The hall fell silent.

Velorian stepped forward and laid a scroll on the war table. It unrolled itself.

"Join the Ashfall Pact. Bind your strongest warrior to my flame. Let your magic and mine intertwine. Or die beneath a sky that screams."

Maerlyn narrowed her eyes. "What price?"

Velorian turned to her.

"The soul of a king. Or the heart of a queen."

Storms Within, Storms Without

While the council debated the bargain, the city shook.

Fires erupted from hidden saboteurs — twisted loyalists to the Vulture King who had embedded themselves among Frostfang's refugees. One lit the Temple of the North Star ablaze, and its ancient bells screamed as they melted.

Kaelin led the counterstrike, her war hammer howling with each swing. Flames danced in her eyes. "No mercy," she bellowed. "This city stands!"

Rowena leapt from rooftop to rooftop, arrows singing, each shot finding its mark like a song of vengeance.

Meanwhile, in the crypts below the keep, Maerlyn lit her last candle. She knelt before the bones of Frostfang's first queen and whispered: "He asks for your heart. May I give it?"

The air shivered.

The bones moved.

Decision at Dusk

As the fires died and smoke curled into the heavens like sacrificed prayers, Aldric stood before Velorian.

"You ask for a soul," he said. "You'll have mine."

Maerlyn stepped forward, her hand raised. "No. Mine is older. And more bitter. Take mine."

Rowena didn't speak. She walked past them both and drew her blade. "Take my fury instead. Let it be the price."

Kaelin slammed her hammer down beside the scroll. "We'll all pay. Together."

Velorian looked upon them, and for the first time, he bowed.

"Then let it be bound."

The scroll flared with light. The ceiling cracked. Thunder screamed across the sky. And far in the distance, the Vulture King — or the thing inside him — turned its head toward Frostfang.

And it smiled.