On a narrow passage slithering through the towering chains of peaks—the Silent Heights—five figures in black cloaks gathered around a small bonfire.

  The soft rays of sunlight swept across their faces, revealing their unkempt hair, ragged beards, and eyes heavy with exhaustion. Their lips were cracked, their cheeks marred by mild frostbite.

  Yet they did not leave. Their eyes remained fixed on the path, anchored by a dark resolve. Their bodies were broken by the cold, but their blades remained sharp, oiled, and ready.

  One of them, gazing down the cliff, seemed more tired than the rest. His neglect of food showed in his sunken cheeks and pallid face.

  A look at the man, and one would assume that behind his dismal bearing countless thoughts must be rising and falling like dust in a storm. Or perhaps nothing at all. It was impossible to tell.

  "Captain Fraser, the food is ready," a voice called him from behind.

  The man, Captain Ewan Fraser of the Oathbounds, turned and saw one of the cloaked figures standing there.

  "You all eat, Gilbert. I'll eat later," Ewan replied.

  Gilbert silently nodded and returned.

  Time trudged on for the world, but for Ewan, it had stilled. The past four days were a blur—a fever dream, part vivid, part hazy, and entirely grim; something he wished to wake up from, or just forget.

  Three more days left... Ewan thought.

  He still doggedly awaited his prey, Corvus Ashford, to surface in the hopes of claiming the bounty over his head, and justifying his betrayal. So consumed was he in his quest—his hunt—that he could not even fathom the serene beauty of the Silent Heights.

  All he saw was a deep chasm beneath, the barrier that kept his prize away from him. He resented these peaks for that.

  "Captain Fraser..." a woman spoke.

  "Finished your meal, Agnes?" Ewan asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Take your position then, and tell everyone as well."

  "Captain, it's about that."

  "About what? Speak clearly."

  "About Corvus Ashford—"

  Ewan interrupted her, "It's Vice-Captain Ashford to you. We may be hunting him, but that's no reason for you to forget his station—or yours," Ewan reprimanded her.

  "My apologies on her behalf, sir," Gilbert took over. "We don't think Vice-Captain Ashford is alive, so we decided—"

  "Think? Decide?..." Ewan scoffed. "Who gave you that authority. If I say you must freeze to death then that's what you will do. We aren't going anywhere before a week passes. There are three more days remaining. I suggest you give it your all to find him, unless you want to spend those three days here."

  Gilbert clenched his teeth; he was at his wits' end, when another Oathkeeper interjected,

  "Captain Fraser, please see reason. There has been no sign of Vice-Captain Ashford these past four days. We are low on supplies, and there's a war brewing in Bleakmoor Hearth; we have to cross before that happens. As your oldest friend, I implore you, let's return. Other than Bran, God rest his soul, we have not lost anything."

  "It was because I saw reason that day that I'm here. And you will have me see it again, my oldest friend, Edmund," Ewan said.

  Walking toward Edmund, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You say we've not lost anything..." Ewan laughed—a dry, empty sound—then continued, "But you and I both know, we have lost everything."

  Ewan walked past him and the other Oathkeepers, while adding, "Alright, I shall see that wench you call reason and return to the Shardmarch. Let's see what good that does."

  The five Oathkeepers got inside the stagecoaches and began their journey back to the Shardmarch Sovereignty.

  When Ewan Fraser first arrived in the frigid terrain of Glaswold, he had been a youthful spirit full of zeal and vigor. His soul may have been blemished by the cruel realities of the world, but he never cowered before them.

  With his head high, he always tried to do the right thing. The world may be a bleak place, but that was no reason for him to become dreary as well.

  On his way back home, Ewan Fraser's liveliness was nowhere to be seen—buried somewhere deep beneath guilt, shame, and failure. What the world's countless brutalities failed to do, his one act did.

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  Staring out of the moving stagecoach, Ewan could no longer see hope. He had become what he had always despised.

  The hopeful young Ewan who had entered the Silent Heights died somewhere in the Silent Heights. In his place sat an old returned, hollowed out by his own choices. Four days of waiting had aged him a lifetime.

  Far away from the Oathkeepers' stagecoaches, deep within Umberfall, two horses moved at a measured pace.

  On the horse in front, a boy with ruby-red eyes rode alone. His calm, calculating eyes betrayed no hint of emotions, yet occasionally they would show signs of disturbance as if something—or someone—bothered him.

  His eyes squinted; he took a short breath to compose himself, but soon it happened again. He shook his head and tried to focus, yet his eyes did not stop twitching and squinting.

  Suddenly, he turned and shouted, "Would you quit throwing dirt in my hair!"

  Behind him, three figures shared a horse. Corvus steering it, held a pile of grain-sized pebbles in his cupped palm. While Lea, sitting in front of him, was in charge of throwing them at the ruby-eyed boy.

  Seeing the boy's outburst, the small girl stopped for a heartbeat—just a heartbeat—before shamelessly hurtling a pebble at him. It hit his eye.

  "Bullseye!" she exclaimed.

  "Bullseye," Corvus evenly affirmed.

  Bullseye, only Elsy was sensible enough not to say it out loud, though she enjoyed it all the same.

  The boy rubbed his eyes in frustration.

  "It's your fault for riding in front, Lior. You can't blame me for a simple leisurely activity. Right, Corvus?"

  "Indeed. You stick your head out, you're bound to get shot, or so they say."

  "I'm your guide—of course I will ride in front. Can't you aim somewhere else, Lea?"

  "Oh, talking to me now? I thought you didn't have the liberty to, since it was not part of your contract. Right, sis?"

  "Why are you gathering supporters for your every statement, 'squeak? And no, I don't think it's right for you to bother Lior just because our views don't match. Remember he's also just a child, a victim even if he can't see that yet," Elsyn said.

  Lior instantly saw Elsyn in a new light, She may not be very useful now, but she certainly has her uses... as opposed to—

  Another tiny projectile struck him.

  ... to this pesky little creature.

  "Pipsqueak. Stop."

  Lea nudged Corvus with her elbow.

  "El, I can make Lea stop if we go fast. What do you say? Shall I pick up the pace?" Corvus asked.

  Elsyn immediately resigned herself from the matter.

  Lior was on his own now. Looming behind him the two evils were left unchecked for a moment too long.

  They grinned wickedly.

  Today, Lior would learn the petty nature of humanity up close. His tutors? A socially inept wraith and an inquisitive goblin. It was a lesson that would scar him for life.

  And thus, the lesson began.

  When the wraith and goblin's session was finally over, their student was buried beneath the weight of their wisdom.

  "I think... I need a rest," Lior said. His usual incisiveness nowhere to be seen.

  His teachers, proud of the progress their student had made in such a short time, smirked.

  "Of course. We do as well," Lea said while stroking dust off her hand.

  They stopped beside a tree. Lea quickly jumped off and ran inside the wood: "I'm going for research. I'll be back shortly..."

  Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the woods on whatever dubious research mission she had invented.

  "Is it all right to let her go?" Elsyn asked.

  "Yes, the forest's outer areas are safe. Almost no creatures roam here and what little people the woods saw vanished ever since some idiots burned the Frostbound Legion's outpost and sparked a full-fledged war," Lior replied.

  "What do you mean some idiots? How can you say it isn't who everyone thinks it is?" Corvus questioned, and secretly fist-bumped with Elsyn.

  Lior brushed off the pebbles from his head and clothes, then replied, "It's not the Ivory Circle. My masters and Sir Alistar were its members. If the Circle planned something that big, I would've heard a whisper."

  "Then who do you think did it?" Elsyn asked.

  "My bet is on the Bone-Rend Kin. They must've orchestrated the whole thing knowing full well that the Cartel and the Legion would begin an all-out war. Those lowlifes took advantage of this; they betrayed the Ivory Circle and teamed up with them overnight."

  "The odds surely don't favor your team, boy."

  "I'm painfully aware of that, Sir Corvus. The loss of Sir Alistar goes beyond just his military might. He was the most famed Mundukar of the Circle. But I'm not too worried, honestly; those three may be equally formidable, but they lack something my masters possess—pedigree and friends."

  Lior sat down and leaned on a tree. "Now, if you don't mind I wish to rest for a bit before—"

  "Sis! Corvus!" Lea returned, sprinting.

  However, something about her seemed... odd. She looked unnaturally inflated.

  "Calm down, 'squeak... What's inside your shirt?"

  Lea gently reached into her tunic and pulled out a ball of fur.

  "A rabbit?" Corvus asked.

  "No, it's a hare. I'm calling her Hary."

  "Of course you are," Elsyn sighed in exasperation.

  Lea grabbed Lior's hand and hauled him up. "No more resting! Hary's fake family is coming to steal her. We have to move!"

  "Corvus you too—let's go!"

  Corvus looked at the youngest kidnapper he had ever met. "Sure, I'm all for kidnapping stray pups."

  "You are taking care of it. No discussion," Elsyn warned.

  "Do I look like a negligent mother, sis. Of course, I will take care of my first child."

  The three exchanged looks. Her first?

  Their rest abruptly came to an end as they hit the road again.

  Lea was busy with her first pet, who had also quickly grown fond of its purported mother. While Elsyn was occupied with the question: how to accidentally lose Lea's pet.

  Lior mostly kept to himself. Other than occasional navigation advice, he did not speak with the trio much at all.

  Meanwhile, Corvus had a pensive expression on his face. Some unfathomable mystery kept gnawing at him. He rubbed his chin, pressed his forehead, and even lightly struck his head but his conundrum saw no sign of easing.

  Elsyn noted his odd behavior. "Something on your mind, Corvus?"

  "No, not really... Actually, yes. I was trying to make a joke."

  "And, did you make any?" Elsyn asked.

  "Yes, though I'm not sure if it is good enough. Well, here goes nothing: a man died in battle because he forgot to polish his sword."

  "... I'm waiting for the punchline... that was it, wasn't it," Elsyn said.

  Corvus did not reply.

  Lea suddenly burst into laughter.

  Corvus's face brightened a little.

  "Hary is such a tease; she's tickling me all over. Stop tickling your mother. Haha."

  Corvus visibly deflated.

  "You did give it an effort, yes?" Elsyn asked.

  "I thought about it practically all night. How can you accuse me of being lazy, that's preposterous."

  You slept before me, Lior added in his thoughts.

  "Fine, here's a hint. The only time you were funny was when you spoke about yourself," Elsyn said.

  So, talking about myself is funny, but I am not... How does that make any sense?