The walls of the Hall of Cinders bled crimson light. Torches, set in black iron sconces, flickered along the curved stone chamber, casting warped shadows that danced like spirits mid-ritual. The ceiling loomed high, lost in smoke, while an obsidian table stretched across the chamber's heart like a casket lid. Thirteen high-backed chairs surrounded it—twelve occupied by veiled figures, and at the table's head sat Lord Thorne Washburn.
Clad in sable robes stitched with runes that shimmered faintly when caught in the flame, Thorne was silent at first. He gazed down at a parchment in front of him—thick, ancient paper sealed in wax as dark as pitch. At his side, a small, gnarled dagger rested, its hilt shaped like a serpent devouring its own tail.
Finally, he spoke.
"They're growing too bold."
The words cut through the silence, reverberating like a curse across the chamber.
"The girl and her companions continue east, toward the Grotto," Thorne continued, his voice a smooth blend of silk and poison. "They survived the banshee. They slipped past the Hollow's Eyes. They even unearthed the sigil."
A ripple of discomfort shifted through the Circle.
"The sigil was never meant to be found," hissed Lady Myrien, her veil shimmering with pearls of dried blood. "The ghosts of the First Sin stir more violently each day they remain alive."
"And they will stir worse if she reaches the Grotto," murmured Elandros, the blind scribe whose ink-stained fingers drummed the table with slow calculation. "She's tied to the Threshold, my lord. Her blood—"
"—will open it," Thorne finished, voice low.
He rose, grasped the dagger, and with a single slice across his palm, let his blood drip onto the scroll. The parchment hissed, as if feeding, the characters inked in red glimmering to life with each drop.
"A bounty," Thorne declared. "Ten thousand silver crowns for Isla Blackwood. Five for the thief, and three for anyone found in their company."
"Alive?" asked Varek, the scarred member who sat near the far end, his face lit like a cracked mask under the firelight.
Thorne stared at the blood-slick parchment.
"Preferably," he said, coldly. "But dead is acceptable—so long as they're not burned."
He pressed the scroll shut with the seal of the Circle—a raven's claw grasping a crescent moon. "Have this spread in every shadow port and silver slum from here to Gravetree. Let no soul remain ignorant of the price."
Another cloaked figure shifted forward—a tall, statuesque woman with a faint glow beneath her hood.
"Does the girl know what she carries?" she asked.
"She suspects," Thorne said, now retreating back into shadow. "But not enough to fear herself."
He turned.
"She will."
And with a wave of his hand, the torches dimmed, and the Circle melted into the dark like dying wraiths.
----------
Mist clung to the earth like breath frozen in time. The forest had grown strange in the past hour—quieter. Even the crows, which had cawed endlessly through the journey, had gone still. Moss blanketed the trees like rotting velvet. The path narrowed beneath their feet, winding between gnarled roots and stones marked with faint carvings.
Caius held the tattered map tighter, brow furrowed. "This doesn't feel right."
Isla brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek. Her legs ached from days of travel, her ribs bruised from their last encounter with Circle hunters. "Everything about this forest feels wrong."
"It's just fog," Lyra muttered, though her voice held little confidence. She reached for the hilt of her dagger again and again, as if expecting something to leap from the trees.
Finn walked at the rear, his cloak drawn tight. "We've passed three stone markers in the same shape," he said. "Either the forest loops, or we do."
But then—out of the gray came color.
A cluster of rooftops emerged beyond a low ridge, nestled within a basin carved between hills. Timber houses with mossy thatched roofs stood like forgotten toys. Windchimes of bone and copper twirled in the breeze. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. A bell tolled softly in the distance.
The four of them stood in silence for a moment, staring down.
"Is that a village?" Isla whispered.
"It looks... normal," Lyra said, as if that alone made her suspicious
Caius squinted. "Too normal."
But hunger had gnawed through their caution. The promise of shelter, of warmth, was too much.
They descended the hill.
As they stepped past the first fence, they were greeted by scent—rosemary, baked apples, warm bread. An old woman pruning her herbs glanced up and smiled. "Travelers!" she called cheerily. "You've come far, haven't you?"
Then a young boy ran up to them, barefoot and laughing, offering a pale blue flower to Isla. She took it hesitantly. It smelled of nothing.
The village unfolded around them with disarming ease.
Children played near the well. A goat bleated nearby. Two men hauled sacks of grain into a barn, and nodded respectfully at the newcomers. From behind one house, a group of women sang softly as they hung linens to dry
"Isla," Caius said in a low voice. "No soldiers. No sigils. No warnings."
"Maybe... maybe it's untouched," she whispered. "Maybe we're safe here."
Just then, a man approached. Tall, clean-shaven, with silver-streaked hair and a crimson tunic finely embroidered—far too fine for a rural village. He offered a hand.
"Welcome to Eldhollow," he said, smiling. "I'm Halvern, the mayor here. You've arrived just before our harvest feast. You're welcome to stay the night—no charge. We've heard of the horrors in the woods. Travelers are a rare blessing."
Caius's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why so generous?"
Halvern gave a soft laugh. "Because kindness keeps us alive. And because no one should suffer in these cursed wilds."
A woman with honey-blonde hair emerged behind him, carrying a basket of apples. Her eyes were green as spring leaves. She paused when she saw Caius.
And then, softly, smiled.
Caius blinked. Something passed between them—recognition, though they'd never met.
Amara.
She turned without a word and disappeared into the inn.
"Please," Halvern said. "Rest. Warm yourselves. No harm will come to you in Eldhollow."
And so, despite the ache of unease in their chests, they entered the village square and were guided toward the great hall. Laughter echoed faintly. The scent of roasted lamb curled through the air. Candlelight spilled through the windows like gold syrup.
Still, none of them noticed the raven perched on the signpost just outside the gate.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
-----------
The great hall of Eldhollow smelled of roasted meats, honeyed wine, and smoke-warmed pine. Lanterns flickered from every beam, casting amber light over the long wooden tables. Villagers bustled about, carrying platters of glazed carrots, thick stews, and golden loaves steaming with heat.
Halvern stood at the center, arms wide in welcome. "Tonight," he declared, "we honor our ancestors, the harvest, and the survival of another season. And tonight—we welcome our honored guests!"
A cheer rose from the villagers, though it felt just a touch too rehearsed.
"Please," Halvern gestured toward a central table near the fire. "Sit, eat, rest. You are among friends."
Finn had already made for the nearest plate. He piled meat and potatoes onto his plate with enthusiasm, stuffing his mouth before anyone had even taken a seat. "This is amazing," he mumbled, spitting crumbs. "You think they have seconds?"
Caius arched a brow. "You've already had fourths."
Isla chuckled, but her hand brushed against her cloak. "Where's Melodias?"
The dog padded faithfully up behind them, tail wagging, but before he could step over the threshold, a stern-looking man in a dark vest stepped in front of him. "Animals aren't allowed in the hall," he said curtly.
Isla stepped forward, voice sharp. "He stays with us."
The man hesitated. Her gaze didn't flinch.
Halvern stepped in quickly with a soft laugh. "Of course, of course. We don't deny loyalty. Let the creature stay."
Melodias trotted inside with a huff and curled up near the hearth.
As they settled, more villagers moved around them with platters and pitchers. Golden wine flowed freely. The flicker of firelight made the faces blur into one smiling crowd.
Then the door at the back of the hall creaked open—and in stepped Amara.
Caius stilled.
She wore a pale green gown that shimmered like dew-dusted leaves. Her blonde hair was braided with silver threads, and her eyes—those verdant eyes—met his.
She moved toward them with a soft smile. Halvern rose. "My niece, Amara. She's just returned from the northern plains. Scholar and herbalist, far too clever for this dull town."
Amara gave a polite nod. "It's not so dull tonight."
Halvern nudged Caius lightly. "She's a better dancer than I ever was. Perhaps later you might—"
Amara rolled her eyes. "Uncle."
Caius felt something warm stir in his chest. He stood slowly. "I'm Caius," he said, awkwardly. "And I'm not much of a dancer either."
She tilted her head. "But you are good at brooding, I take it?"
A faint smirk broke across his face. "Years of practice."
She laughed. It was quiet, musical.
The feast continued with rising merriment. Finn devoured a tray of cheese like a starved animal. Lyra glared at him, muttering, "You're going to choke."
"Worth it," he said, mouth full.
But Isla had grown quiet. Her fingers toyed with her goblet. Something... felt off.
The food was delicious. Too delicious. The wine rich, heavy, clinging to the tongue. The room had grown warmer, the laughter too loud, the air thick like syrup.
Caius glanced at his goblet, then back at Amara. She had moved closer beside him. Their shoulders brushed.
"You've seen the worst of the world," she said softly. "But you still fight. I see it in your eyes."
He looked at her, unsure why those words hit deeper than expected. "What do you see in them?"
"A soul that hasn't given up. Not entirely."
He meant to respond—but the firelight swam for a moment. His limbs felt slow. His heart skipped.
Across the table, Lyra dropped her fork. "Did... did anyone else...?"
Isla blinked rapidly. "The wine—"
Too late.
Caius collapsed sideways. Isla slumped forward into her plate. Lyra gritted her teeth and fell back. Even Finn, halfway through a bite, dropped like a sack of grain, a muffled, "Wait—was that pie?" the last thing he said before unconsciousness claimed him.
Silence fell. Villagers stood still, faces blank.
Only Amara remained, her smile fading slowly into something cold and unreadable.
"Forgive me," she whispered, brushing Caius's hair back as he lay unmoving. "I didn't want it to be like this."
She rose.
"Take them."
-------
The first thing Isla felt was dirt—cold, damp, and clinging to her cheek.She groaned, eyes fluttering open to darkness and the scent of moss and stone.
Her limbs were leaden, her mouth dry. She pushed herself up slowly, disoriented. Around her, the others stirred—Caius lying nearby, one hand still curled as if mid-fight. Finn was on his back, groaning. Lyra leaned against a stone wall, blinking sluggishly."Where...?" Isla whispered.They were underground, somewhere musty and dimly lit by a single iron lantern. Rough stone walls enclosed them, and the only exit was a thick wooden door barred from the outside.Caius sat up sharply, breathing hard. "What the hell happened—?"The door creaked open before he could finish.Footsteps echoed. From the shadows emerged the mayor—Halvern.Gone was the cheerful host from the feast. His smile had vanished. His posture had shifted. No warmth lingered in his eyes. He stood tall, cold, authoritative—like a different man entirely.Isla scrambled to her feet, bristling. "You drugged us."Halvern gave a slow nod. "A necessary measure, I assure you."Finn narrowed his eyes. "Why? We didn't do anything!"Halvern stepped closer, his voice calm. "You're fugitives. The price on your heads would keep this village fed for a decade.""What?" Lyra blurted. "What price?!"Halvern folded his hands behind his back. "The Midnight Circle has placed a bounty. A rather substantial one. For all of you. Especially you two." His gaze landed on Isla and Caius.Caius's breath caught. "They what?""Thirty silver crows for Isla Blackwood. Twenty for the thief with the cursed mark," Halvern said. "The others were... listed as 'optional but useful.'"Shock silenced them. Even Finn was struck dumb.Caius surged to his feet. "You're working with the Circle?""No," Halvern said coolly. "But I do accept payment. And their courier will arrive within the week."Lyra clenched her fists. "You'll be dead before then.""Brave," Halvern murmured, "but predictable."Caius stepped forward, trembling with fury. "Where's Melodias?"Halvern turned, just barely smirking. "Oh, the dog? He's fine. Locked away. Untouched."Isla exhaled sharply in relief, but Caius wasn't satisfied. "If you've harmed him—""I'm not a monster," Halvern said with mild amusement. "Just practical."He stepped back toward the door. "Rest, if you can. It'll be your last peaceful night for a while."The door slammed shut. The bar slid into place with a final thud.And the silence that followed was thick with dread.
The hours crept by, marked only by the distant drip of water and the shifting breaths of the imprisoned. Isla paced, her nerves frayed. Lyra sat against the wall, silent and bitter. Finn whispered curses under his breath. Caius leaned against the bars, fists clenched, face unreadable.
Then—footsteps.
Quick. Light.
The door creaked, and a shadow entered—a village guard, face masked beneath a helmet, cloak pulled tight.
Caius tensed. "What now—?"
But the figure raised a gloved finger to her lips.
Then, in a whisper: "It's me."
She removed her helmet.
Amara.
Caius's eyes widened. "You—what are you—?"
"No time," she breathed. "We need to go. Now."
She fished a ring of keys from her belt and fumbled with the lock. The bar clanked open. She swung the door wide and moved fast, unlocking the others.
"What are you doing?" Isla asked.
Amara's green eyes flicked to her. "Saving your lives."
She handed Caius a small dagger. "There are guards above. We have minutes."
They ran.
Through moss-slick tunnels. Past flickering torches. Isla heard the distant murmur of voices—then the alarmed shout of a sentry.
"They're escaping!"
Boots thundered.
Amara grabbed Caius's wrist and yanked him down a side passage, motioning for the others to follow. A hidden stair spiraled upward, leading to the edge of the woods behind the village.
They broke into the forest, breathless and wild-eyed, the cool air hitting them like a wave.
But Amara didn't follow them fully.
She paused in the clearing, turning back.
"Amara!" Caius called.
She turned, eyes shining in the moonlight.
"This was a mistake," she whispered.
Caius stepped forward. "Then why did you do it?"
She said nothing—only reached up, pulled him close, and kissed him.
The world blurred. The trees vanished. Only her lips and the pounding of his heart.
She pulled back, voice low. "Because I couldn't let them take you."
He stared at her, stunned.
Then she turned.
And vanished into the trees.
Branches slapped against their arms as they ran, the cold night air stinging their lungs. The deeper they went into the woods, the quieter the world became—no more torchlight, no more shouts. Only the forest, vast and dark, swallowing their panic whole.
They finally stopped beneath a twisted yew tree, its roots coiled like serpents. Finn collapsed to the ground, panting. Lyra leaned against the bark, arms folded, silent but visibly shaken. Isla paced in tight circles, her boots crunching twigs and frost.
Caius stood still, eyes fixed in the direction Amara had vanished.
"She kissed you," Finn said between gasps. "Like... actually kissed you."
Caius didn't answer. His mind was a storm.
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Leave it, Finn."
Isla finally spoke. "He said something about a bounty. A price on our heads."
Yeah," Caius muttered, voice low. "Ten thousand silver crowns."
Finn's eyes widened. "Each?"
Lyra looked from one face to the next. "Who even knows we exist? How can there be a bounty for us?"
Caius shook his head. "It's not just a random bounty. It's... them. The Circle."
"The Midnight Circle?" Isla stepped forward. "You're saying they're behind this?"
He nodded. "The mayor said so himself. He meant to hand us over. And he knew about you, Isla. He called you the key."
Silence followed.
The fire of fear and fury rose in Isla's chest. "They're hunting us. Not just watching. Not just threatening. Hunting."
Finn swallowed. "What do we do now? We can't go back to any village. If that bounty's real... everyone will be after us."
Caius's jaw clenched. "We keep moving. We head for the Grotto. We find answers, maybe a way to end this."
Lyra spoke, flat and cold. "They'll come harder next time. Better prepared."
Isla's voice was quieter. "They'll come for Melodias."
Caius suddenly looked up, eyes wide. "Melodias."
He turned to the others. "He wasn't with us. The mayor—he said he was alright. But—"
Before he could finish, a low growl echoed through the trees.
Then a familiar bark.
Out of the thicket, limping but alive, came Melodias. His fur was matted, and a cloth was tied awkwardly around his hind leg, but his eyes were sharp with recognition.
"Melodias!" Isla ran forward and dropped to her knees.
The dog collapsed into her arms with a soft whine. She cradled his head, whispering thanks under her breath.
Caius knelt beside her. "He made it out."
"He always finds me," Isla murmured, hugging the dog tighter.
Finn exhaled. "Well. That's one thing the bastards didn't take."
Above them, the moon filtered through the branches—pale, silver, and silent.
And somewhere far off, unseen eyes watched.
They continued their journey to the Vale of Echoes....