The silver dawn broke over Aurex Bay as Zephyr Ardent and his escort prepared to depart for Cinderport, the Accord's first distant branch beyond the Floating Citadel's influence. At the Hold's stables, five pack steeds stamped in their stalls, saddlebags laden with ward crystals, prototype vials, holo-manuals, and the primer scroll sealed in a protective case.
Zephyr stood before his companions—Rook, Rennan, Elara, Alaric, Corin, and a contingent of hybrid scouts led by Reyna and Sera. Each bore the morning light with determination in their eyes.
Elara spoke first, voice gentle: "The journey to Cinderport will test our wards and endurance. The coastal storms can scramble ward signals; be vigilant."
Alaric nodded, adjusting his travel cloak embroidered with covenant runes. "The Covenant's healing tablets and portable resonators are packed. We'll establish the clinic swiftly."
Corin thumbed the holomap: "Fifty leagues south along the Silver Current. Two nights' ride."
Zephyr placed a hand on the primer's case. "Then let us mount and ride. Cinderport awaits the Accord's light."
They set out across the causeway at first light. The Silver Current sparkled to their right, fishing skiffs bobbing in dawn calm. As the road curved southward, low hills rose, crowned with salt-resistant grasses. Hybrid scouts fanned wide, warded lanterns glinting at their belts.
By midday, Zephyr halted at Salt-Wind Pass—a narrow gorge where seaborne gusts funneled through rock walls. Storm clouds gathered offshore. He tested a ward crystal, then nodded to Elara.
She traced a Reflection Glyph in the air; wind stilled around them. "Keep the circle strong. We cross now."
They pressed on, horse hooves echoing on weathered stone. At dusk, they reached the cliffs overlooking Cinderport's harbor lights—a ribbon of lanterns shimmering like trapped stars.
Under moonlight, they navigated narrow, rutted lanes to the old East Wharf—a series of warehouses repurposed by local healers. The buildings bore faded murals of fish and salt pans, now festooned with fresh ward crystals installed by hybrid scouts.
Zephyr led the procession to a central warehouse, its doors open to reveal rows of metal cots and alcoves lined with warded runes. Local healers—farmers' daughters, retired dock guards, and street-urchin apprentices—waited in mixed awe and relief.
Marin, Cinderport's de facto healer, stepped forward. Her arms bore coil-tattoos of the moon's phases. "Bloodwolf Ardent," she greeted, voice shaky. "We feared the Accord forgotten out here."
Zephyr smiled kindly. "You have proven its call is loudest where need is greatest. Let us open the clinic."
Under Alaric's guidance, tents became wards: stalwart crystals set into planks, prototype vials cataloged on portable racking, and hybrid scouts taught local volunteers to trace Binding Glyphs on each doorway.
Rook led a cohort in installing warded lanterns overhead. Rennan and Sera organized patrols for the port's narrow alleys, ensuring node detectors posted at every quay.
Corin and Elara worked side by side teaching Marin's apprentices the Lunar Transmutation basics—how to infuse well-water with moon-fern salt, turning it into micro-ward solution for disinfecting wounds.
The evening's first patient was Old Jakob, a saltminer with infected ribs. Zephyr administered a dose of Symbiotic Cell Matrix as Elara chanted the Purge Rite. Within moments, Jakob's fever broke, and his labored breathing eased. He sat up, astonished. "I—I can breathe!"
Applause broke out among the apprentices, tears and relief mingling in the tent's lantern-lit warmth. Zephyr clasped Marin's shoulder. "This is the Accord in action."
After the clinic's inaugural day, as the delegation rested in the upper loft, a cloaked merchant slipped through the back entrance. Rennan intercepted him, blade at the merchant's throat.
"State your business," Rennan demanded.
The merchant—grizzled, one-eyed—bowed hastily. "Forgive my intrusion. I bring word from Stonehaven: the cold-forge guilds there resist the Accord's reach. They claim blood-magic violates their ancestral forges."
Zephyr frowned. "Stonehaven is our next branch. If their guilds oppose us, our work will face obstruction."
Corin added, "The Cinderport archives show ancient pacts between Stonehaven forges and the Pack. They resent outside interference."
Elara stroked her pendant thoughtfully. "We must proceed with respect for their traditions—offer collaboration, not imposition."
Zephyr nodded. "We ride at first light. Inform Stonehaven's leaders we come in peace and solidarity." He turned to the merchant. "And you—join us. We may need your guidance on their customs."
The merchant's one eye gleamed. "I owe you my life for saving my wife. I will guide you gladly."
At dawn, they set sail on a flat-bottomed barge, docking by noon at Stonehaven's ice-blue pillars. Snow-melt streams trickled through runic grates, powering forge bellows. Blacksmiths in leather aprons eyed the newcomers warily.
Zephyr dismounted before Grand Forgehall's iron doors. "I am Zephyr Ardent, envoy of the Bloodwolf Accord. We seek partnership."
A hulking smith stepped forward—Master Corliss, arms thick as tree trunks, beard braided with iron filings. "Bloodwolf? We've no need of your elixirs. Our forges answer the mountain's call."
Zephyr inclined his head. "Yet your forges have healed blades, never wounds. Let us show how blood-magic can temper steel and flesh alike."
He invited Master Corliss to observe the Cinderport holostream, showing healed miners and warded clinics. Corliss's stern brow relaxed as he saw the living proof.
At Elara's suggestion, they held a joint ritual: blooddrop ritual poured molten moon-iron into healing medals imprinted with Binding Glyphs. As the sun set over snow-capped peaks, the first Accord-forged pendants cooled in Elara's lunar salt bath.
Master Corliss draped one around his neck. "This steel carries moon's grace and wolf's bond. I accept the Accord—for steel and flesh are kin."
By starlight, Zephyr, Rook, and Rennan stood atop Stonehaven's tower, the wind whipping snow around them. Below, the first Accord clinic's wards glowed in crystalline panels along the forgehall's flank.
Zephyr exhaled, breath misting. "Two branches secured—Cinderport and Stonehaven. Next, Gale's Landing and beyond."
Rook's blade caught the moonlight. "Wherever the tides carry us, the Accord will follow."
Rennan nodded, hand on his hilt. "And no forge or fountain shall stand against healing unity."
Zephyr looked northward, the Silverfang Hold faint on the horizon. "Our journey continues—but our foundation stands firm. Blood and moon, steel and spirit—bound in purpose."
He placed a hand over his heart, feeling the primer's steady warmth. Behind him, hybrid scouts raised ward lanterns in salute, their gleaming fur shells reflecting the moon's promise.
As Gale's winds whispered through the tower, Zephyr Ardent—Bloodwolf Hybrid, Codex Warden, and envoy of healing unity—steeled himself.