The rain had turned to mist by the time Veyrion reached the outer gate, but the air was no less heavy. It clung to his skin like the scent of old blood.
The city walls loomed ahead, their ancient stone etched with runes that hummed faintly beneath his fingertips as he passed. Magic. Old magic. The kind that remembered the taste of war.
The guards at the gate stood rigid, hands white-knuckled on their spears. Their eyes flickered between him and the thing waiting beyond the portcullis.
A caravan.
Or what was left of one.
The horses were dead—not just dead, but *wrong*. Their bodies were stiff, legs locked in mid-gallop, eyes glassy and unblinking. Yet the wheels still turned, creaking forward inch by inch, as if pulled by invisible reins. The carriage itself was ornate, lacquered black wood trimmed in gold, its curtains drawn tight. No driver. No sound.
Just the slow, grinding roll of wheels on cobblestone.
Veyrion exhaled through his nose. "Who opened the gate?"
A young guard swallowed hard. "N-no one, General. It was already open when we got here."
Veyrion's left eye pulsed.
Lie.
He didn't bother calling the man out. Instead, he stepped forward, boots splashing through shallow puddles as he approached the caravan. His hand rested on the hilt of one katana, thumb pressing against the guard.
"General!" The captain of the guard, a grizzled human with a scar across his nose, jogged up behind him. "We should wait for the mages—"
"No time." Veyrion didn't turn. "Seal the gate behind me. If anything comes through that isn't me, burn it."
The captain hesitated. "Sir, you're not even—"
"Do it."
A beat of silence. Then the heavy clank of gears as the portcullis began to lower.
Veyrion stepped closer to the caravan. The air here was thicker, colder. The scent of rot clung to the wood, but beneath it—something else. Something metallic. Familiar.
Blood magic.
His fingers twitched.
Then, the carriage door creaked open.
A hand emerged—pale, slender, too perfect to be human. A single silver ring glinted on one finger.
Veyrion's breath stilled.
He knew that ring.
And the woman it belonged to.
"Hello, General," came a voice from the shadows inside, smooth as poisoned wine. "Did you miss me?"
The last person he'd ever wanted to see again stepped into the light.
And the world went quiet.
---
To be continued...