The Runesinger

The girl was drawing on the wall when they found her.

Maren — the new head of the Whisper Court's operational branch, elevated three days ago, still learning the weight of the silver pin on her collar — had dispatched a field team to the border village of Threshfield following a routine intelligence sweep. The sweep had flagged an anomaly: runic inscriptions appearing on surfaces throughout the village — on walls, on stones, on the wooden supports of the market awning — inscriptions that had not been there the month before.

The field team's report was brief and confused. The inscriptions were genuine. They were written in the old law's notation. And no one in the village knew who was making them.