Stonebreach Outpost was never meant to be beautiful.

  It was meant to survive.

  Carved into the side of a granite cliff, its walls were thick slabs of stone studded with old Terra Aether runes that glowed faintly at dusk. From its highest battlements, you could see the valley spread below in a grey-green sea of forest and mist.

  Inside, it smelled like steel, leather, ink, and old dust.

  In the war room, the air smelled like maps.

  Dozens of them.

  Worn edges. Updated borders. Red ink marking breaches and sightings.

  Aelric Vael stood over one such map, golden eyes tracing the eastern ridge.

  Ascendant rank.

  Scout Captain of Ophora.

  He wore a plain, dark cloak over light armor, a sword at his hip but no visible ornament. He didn’t need decoration to be recognized. Everyone in the chamber treated the air around him like it weighed more.

  A courier stood before him, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  “There was an incident, Captain,” the man said. “Eastern frontier. Village called Graythorn.”

  “Minor gate?” Aelric asked without looking up.

  “Not a gate, sir. A demon encampment.”

  Aelric made a short sound. “We do not get reports for encampments. Why is this crossing my table?”

  “Because…” the courier hesitated, throat bobbing. “Because the encampment included a Revenant-class.”

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  The room went quiet.

  A soldier nearby stopped mid-sentence. Another lowered her quill.

  Aelric’s gaze finally lifted.

  “Casualties?” he asked.

  “All four members of the local hunting party, sir,” the courier answered. “Except one.”

  Only one.

  “And the Revenant?” Aelric said.

  “Dead, Captain.”

  Aelric straightened.

  “Who killed it?”

  The courier handed him a folded parchment. “Preliminary field report from Graythorn’s elder. Name of the survivor is Joren. No recorded family name.”

  Aelric unfolded the paper.

  Rowan’s handwriting was tight, controlled.

  Revenant neutralized. Cause uncertain. Survivor found unconscious at scene. Aether traces unstable and atypical. Requesting evaluation.

  “A Revenant,” Kaela Windthorn said from the wall behind them, “dies in the middle of nowhere, and some nameless village boy is the only one still breathing?”

  She uncrossed her arms and pushed off the stone.

  Short silver hair. Eyes like stormlight. Light armor strapped over travel-worn clothes. Wind seemed to like her—small gusts played with her cloak even when the room was still.

  Gale Adept.

  Aelric’s second.

  “Could be a misclassification,” Kaela added, though she didn’t sound convinced. “Border folk like to exaggerate.”

  Aelric turned the parchment so she could read.

  Rowan had drawn the Revenant’s sigil in the margin.

  Kaela’s smirk vanished. “…Oh.”

  “If a Revenant died,” Aelric said, “something killed it.”

  “You think it was this Joren?” she asked.

  “I think,” Aelric said slowly, “that nothing that strong wakes up on our map without consequence.”

  He folded the report.

  “We ride for Graythorn.”

  Kaela blinked. “That’s three days off our patrol route.”

  “Then we should’ve left yesterday,” Aelric said.

  He turned toward the narrow window.

  A crow sat on the sill, watching him. Its eyes glowed faintly—wrong, purple—for half a heartbeat before dimming back to black.

  Aelric’s jaw tightened.

  “The demons are growing bolder,” he murmured. “Omens in the cities. Corrupted wildlife. Revenants on the frontier.”

  Kaela followed his gaze. “We really doing this ‘bad omen crow’ thing now?”

  “It’s not the crow that bothers me,” Aelric said. “It’s who might be looking through it.”

  The bird cawed once and took off, vanishing into the mist.

  Aelric turned away.

  He didn’t need omens.

  He had reports.

  And instincts.

  “Ready your gear,” he told Kaela. “We leave within the hour.”

  She grinned, half feral. “Finally. I was getting bored.”

  They rode from Stonebreach with no escort—just two figures cutting through morning fog, cloaks snapping behind them, horses kicking up thin dust.

  From the valley below, the outpost’s runes pulsed once in farewell, like a stone heart remembering it still beat.

  “Joren,” Aelric tested the name quietly, more to himself than to Kaela. “Let’s see what survived out there.”