The tavern was alive with the sound of clinking mugs, laughter bouncing off the stone walls, and the familiar scent of stale ale mingling with smoke from the hearth. Kael leaned back in his chair, swirling the last of his drink in its tankard with an idle hand. His feet were propped up on the edge of the table, ankles crossed, as he shot Aric a sly grin.

"Come on, Aric, don’t tell me you honestly thought you could woo the innkeeper’s daughter with that limp excuse of a compliment,” Kael teased, shaking his head. “What was it again? Something about her ‘eyes being as deep as a mountain well’? That’s romantic? A well?”

Aric groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “I panicked, alright? I’m not exactly known for poetry.”

Kael snorted, taking a long drink from his tankard. “Clearly. Wells are where people drown, my friend. Next time, maybe go with ‘eyes like the sea,’ or something a bit more—what’s the word? Less likely to get you slapped.”

Aric threw a balled-up napkin at him. “You’re the worst. No wonder you’re still single.”

“I’m single because I choose to be,” Kael shot back, grinning wide. “Why would I tie myself down to one person when I’ve got the open road, good ale, and the constant, thrilling company of someone like you?”

Aric rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. My company’s more of a burden.”

Kael chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Burden’s too mild. You’re a full-on disaster.”

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm of banter, the kind born from years of friendship. The fire crackled nearby, and the warm scent of roasted meat wafted from the kitchen. It was the kind of night Kael enjoyed—simple, predictable. The hum of conversation around them blended into a comfortable background, the clatter of mugs and laughter filling the space like a familiar song. It was easy to forget, in moments like these, the pressure that always seemed to loom over him. The expectations. The weight of his family name.

“Another round?” Aric asked, waving toward the barmaid.

Kael opened his mouth to answer, but a gust of cold wind swept into the tavern as the door slammed open. The sudden chill cut through the warmth, and the lively din of the room quieted, heads turning toward the entrance.

Lyra stood there, framed by the flickering lantern light. Her hair clung damply to her forehead, her dark cloak swirling around her like the storm that raged outside. Kael’s heart skipped a beat—he hadn’t expected to see her. No one had.

“Lyra?” Kael frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What are you—”

“Kael,” she interrupted, her voice tight, her eyes wide with urgency. “You need to come. Now.”

Something cold trickled down the back of Kael’s neck, a sudden, instinctual dread. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the stone floor with a sharp sound. “What happened?”

Lyra glanced around, as if the walls of the tavern could hear her. “Something’s happening at your estate. I don’t know what, but there are strange lights, movement… something’s wrong.”

The chill that had taken root at the base of Kael’s spine spread like wildfire. His father. Without another word, he shot to his feet, Aric scrambling to follow. They pushed through the throng of patrons, Lyra close behind, and burst into the night air.

The rain slapped against Kael’s face, icy and relentless, driven by the wind that howled through the narrow streets of Valewatch. The smell of wet stone and damp earth filled his lungs as he sprinted ahead, his boots splashing through the puddles that had already formed on the cobblestones. His mind raced even faster than his feet.

Dread twisted his gut into knots, his father’s stern voice echoing in his mind: Always be vigilant. There’s always a threat lurking. Always. But Kael had ignored it, allowed himself a night of respite, of laughter. Now he feared what that lapse might have cost him.

The estate came into view, looming like a dark, silent sentinel against the sky. The high walls, once comforting in their solid presence, now seemed ominous, closing in around him. The iron gate, usually sealed tightly, was open.

Too open.

Kael didn’t slow. He didn’t even pause to think. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts as he stormed through the courtyard, barely aware of Lyra and Aric at his heels. The scent of rain-soaked earth was strong, but there was something else now—something metallic, sharp.

Blood.

He reached the front doors and shoved them open with enough force that they slammed against the stone walls inside. The hall was dark, save for the faint, flickering light from a single lantern hanging near the study’s entrance. Kael’s eyes were drawn to it immediately.

And to the body that lay crumpled on the floor.

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His father.

“Father!” Kael’s voice broke, raw and strangled, as he staggered forward, his boots slipping on the slick, wet stone beneath him. Daren Raventhorn’s body was splayed out across the floor, his fine coat torn and soaked through with blood. His lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, wide and frozen in a final, terrified expression.

Kael dropped to his knees beside him, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the scent of blood filled his nostrils—thick, coppery, overwhelming. His hands shook as he reached out, but they hovered just above his father’s form, unable to touch. Unable to accept the reality before him.

“No… no, no, no…” His voice was barely a whisper now, a choked plea that carried into the empty, silent halls.

The sound of footsteps behind him barely registered. Aric and Lyra had stopped at the entrance to the study, their faces pale in the dim light, their eyes wide with horror.

“What in the gods' names…” Aric breathed, his voice a hollow echo in the vast chamber.

Lyra took a slow step forward, her gaze flickering from Kael’s father to the wall behind him. “Kael… look.”

He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see anything more. But his eyes followed hers despite himself, and there, written in jagged, hurried strokes of blood, was a message:

You are next.

The world tilted, and Kael’s vision blurred. His father, the man who had been the bedrock of his life, who had been indomitable, unyielding—was dead. Murdered. And someone had left a message for him. For Kael.

A warning. A promise.

The air in the room seemed to grow colder, sharper, and the tight knot of grief that had twisted Kael’s chest began to harden into something else. Something darker. His breath came quicker, each exhale a cloud of mist in the frigid air.

Whoever had done this… they were still here. He could feel it.

Kael pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him. The blood on the floor seemed to pulse in time with the roar in his ears, and a red haze began to creep into the edges of his vision. His father’s lifeless eyes haunted him, but behind that grief was a rising tide of rage—an uncontrollable, burning fury that threatened to consume him.

Footsteps. Outside.

Kael’s gaze snapped toward the open door leading to the courtyard. His hand instinctively went to the dagger at his side—the one he had found by the river all those years ago. Its hilt felt cold and slick in his hand, but the weight of it was comforting.

Someone had done this. Someone had killed his father, left him broken and bloodied on the floor like a discarded piece of meat. And they were going to pay.

Without a word, without waiting for Aric or Lyra to follow, Kael sprinted through the door and into the rain-soaked night.

The courtyard was shrouded in mist, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and the faint tang of iron. Shadows moved ahead—figures cloaked in black, slipping toward the outer walls of the estate. Kael’s pulse quickened, his fury blinding him to anything but the need for vengeance.

His legs moved faster than they ever had before, his boots barely skimming the slick ground. The world seemed to slow around him as he closed the distance, the mist swirling in strange, twisting patterns as he broke through it.

And then he was upon them.

His dagger flashed in the dim light, slicing through the fog with a sickeningly clean sound as it found its mark. The man before him crumpled, his throat torn open, a wet gurgle the only sound as he fell into the mud.

Kael didn’t stop. The rage had taken control now, guiding his movements, fueling his speed. He could feel the dagger’s pulse in his hand, a faint, eerie glow beginning to emanate from the blade. A red mist, barely visible, curled around it like smoke.

The second man turned, his eyes wide with terror, but Kael was faster. Too fast. He struck with a precision he hadn’t known he possessed, the dagger plunging deep into the man’s chest, twisting as it withdrew. The man’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The red mist trailed after the blade, almost invisible in the night air, but Kael barely noticed. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the roar of blood in his ears. All he could feel was the cold steel in his hand, the slickness of blood on his fingers, the hot rage that burned in his veins.

“Kael!” Lyra’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and panicked. “Stop!”

He heard her, but the command didn’t register. The world was a blur of motion, his body moving faster than it should have, faster than he could comprehend. Another figure appeared before him, and Kael lunged, his dagger flashing again, but this time—

This time, it wasn’t an enemy.

Aric’s eyes widened as the blade came within an inch of his throat, the force of the strike knocking him to the ground. Kael froze, his chest heaving, the red mist swirling around the dagger as if it were alive. His hand trembled as he stared down at Aric, the realization of what he had almost done sinking in.

He had almost killed his best friend.

Kael staggered back, dropping the dagger as if it had burned him. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold night air stinging his lungs as he fought to regain control. The mist around the dagger faded, disappearing into the night as if it had never been there at all.

Lyra rushed forward, her hands on his shoulders, her face pale and strained. “Kael, you have to stop. Whatever’s happening to you, you have to stop.”

His hands were slick with blood—blood he hadn’t even noticed. His father’s blood. The blood of the men he had just killed. His mind reeled, his vision swimming as the weight of what he had done settled over him like a shroud.

“I…” Kael’s voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I almost… I almost killed…”

Aric pulled himself to his feet, wiping the mud from his face, his expression grim but understanding. “You didn’t, Kael. You stopped. But we need to figure out what the hell is going on with you.”

Kael looked down at his hands, the blood still warm against his skin, the faint outline of the dagger in the mud at his feet. The red mist was gone, but the memory of it lingered, like a shadow at the edge of his mind.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but one thing was clear: something had awakened inside him, something powerful and dangerous. And now, with his father dead, the world seemed to have turned upside down.

But as he stood there, drenched in rain and blood, Kael knew one thing for certain.

It wasn’t finished with him yet.

And neither was the one who had killed his father.