The wind over the Gryphon's Roost Mountains was as sharp as a blade, cutting into the skin with a stinging chill. It carried the scent of pine needles as it swept down the mountain trail, making cloaks snap and whip in the air.
Finn Adler and Valerius Caedo raced along the rugged path, one ahead and one behind. Pebbles rolled under their boots as they sped forward—swift as hunting falcons gliding close to the ground, skimming past the low shrubs and leaving behind only faint, fleeting afterimages.
The closer they drew to Blackwind Keep's domain, the heavier the tension in the air became. The wind now held not only the resinous tang of pine but also a trace of smoke—unfamiliar, acrid, and unsettling.
Finn's gaze swept toward a distant ridge, where faint points of fire flickered in the darkness—weak, elusive, like the eyes of a hidden beast lurking behind the rocks. Without a keen eye, one would never notice them.
"Scouts from the Direwolf Clan and the Gilded Saber," Finn said, his voice calm and steady even as the wind shredded it apart. "Word of 'Savage Wolf' Yurik's death has spread. They're here to probe our defenses."
"Shall I remove them, my lord?" Caedo's voice drifted from behind—soft, deferential, as though he were merely asking whether to swat a few mosquitoes. There was no malice in his tone, only quiet assurance.
"No need," Finn replied, shaking his head without slowing his pace. "Killing a few scouts won't solve anything—it'll only startle the snakes. I want them to gather first. When the time is right, we'll uproot every petty stronghold in these mountains in one stroke."
Now that he possessed Caedo, a warrior of Champion Rank 4, Finn's confidence was leagues beyond what it had once been. The once-feared Direwolf Clan and Gilded Saber were now little more than appetizers—offerings for his return to power.
When the rough stone silhouette of Blackwind Keep finally came into view, a cheer erupted from the watchtower. Torches blazed, dazzling the eyes."The lord has returned! The lord is back!"
Halvar Bearhand came barreling out of the council hall, half-running, half-tumbling. The huge man's strides carried the force of a storm; the axe at his waist swung wildly as his broad, honest face twisted in a mix of relief and anxiety."My lord—you're finally back! Another day, and I'd have lost my wits!"
Finn frowned slightly, sensing something was wrong. "What happened? Trouble in the keep?"
"Not trouble, exactly—it's… it's a guest," Halvar muttered, lowering his voice. His expression grew grave, a sheen of frost settling over his brow. "He said he's an old acquaintance of your father—the former lord. He insisted on waiting in the council hall. I couldn't turn him away."
Finn's heart tightened. His father's acquaintance? And at such a time—right after Yurik's death and with rival forces stirring? Suspicious.
Without betraying his thoughts, Finn cast a quick glance toward Caedo and gave a subtle signal toward the shadows by the wall. "Hide yourself. Stay in the dark. Don't reveal yourself unless I order it."
"As you command, my lord."
Caedo's figure melted into the gloom like ink dissolving in water—silent, seamless. Not even the whisper of cloth against stone remained. In an instant, he was gone, as if he had never existed.
Finn straightened his wind-tossed cloak, took a deep breath, and pushed open the council hall's heavy wooden door.
Inside, firelight flickered over the stone walls. Logs crackled in the hearth, their glow stretching every shadow long and thin. Beneath the main seat, on a side chair, sat a stranger.
He wore a robe of deep blue, the fabric fine and expensive, embroidered with intricate silver constellations that shimmered under the firelight. His face was lean, his cheekbones sharp, eyes piercing like a hawk's. A neatly trimmed goatee framed his chin. Though he sat quietly, a palpable pressure radiated from him, forcing every guard in the hall to hold their breath.
This man was no common traveler—at least Mortal Rank 10, perhaps even brushing against the threshold of Champion. Finn's instincts tightened like a drawn bowstring.
"So you are Pike Adler's son—Finn?" the man said first. His tone was calm, yet his gaze carried a sense of appraisal, as if weighing an object rather than addressing a person.
"I am," Finn replied evenly, standing his ground. "And you are?"
"You may call me Emissary Korbin," the man said, rising slowly. His steps were light but heavy with unseen weight as he advanced. "I come from the Starfall Sect."
"The Starfall Sect?" Finn repeated, frowning. He turned briefly to Halvar, questioning with his eyes.
Halvar's face went pale. He leaned close, whispering in haste, "My lord—you haven't heard? Thirty years ago, they ruled the Savage Reach. A cult of terrifying power—wiped out by the Empire for dark rituals! They were supposed to be extinct!"
Finn's stomach dropped. A surviving cult? Connected to his father? But his face remained impassive.
Korbin's lips curved slightly, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Ah, so you truly know nothing of your heritage. Your father, Pike Adler, was no mere bandit lord. He was one of our sect's core members—charged with gathering resources in these mountains."
Halvar's jaw fell open, eyes wide in disbelief. The late lord—a cultist? The thought hit harder than an army at the gates.
Finn's pupils contracted sharply. His father's disappearance had always been a mystery. Could this be the truth?
"He didn't disappear," Korbin said coldly, reading Finn's thoughts. "He was discovered by Imperial spies while carrying out a secret mission. He fell in battle, a martyr of our cause."
The hall fell silent, save for the hiss of burning logs. Finn's hand clenched tight, nails biting into flesh.
At last, Korbin spoke again—his voice now a command. "By order of the Starfall Sect, I invite you, Finn Adler, to inherit your father's will and return your Blackwind Keep to the fold."
He paused, eyes narrowing with authority. "This is not a request—it is an order. You do not have the right to refuse."
Then his tone grew fervent, almost ecstatic, as he painted his vision of the future:"The age of silence is ending. The stars shall fall again, and the Savage Reach will once more kneel before the Sect! When that day comes, the nobles of House Tenebris will be but insects beneath our feet—crushed with ease. Serve the Sect faithfully, and the shackles of the mortal realm will break before you. The path to the Champion's rank—and beyond—will open."
The Champion's rank.
For any warrior trapped in the Mortal realm, such a promise was irresistible.
But Finn heard only the threat beneath the honeyed words. A cult that had survived Imperial extermination for thirty years would not be weak. To defy them meant death; to flee meant being hunted.
There was only one path left—deception.
In an instant, Finn's cold mask melted away, replaced by an expression of wonder and fervent devotion. His eyes burned like twin flames.
"My father… he was a hero of the Sect?" he gasped, voice trembling with reverence. "All these years, I thought he was just a mere fortress lord…"
He stepped forward, seizing Korbin's sleeve with both hands. "Emissary, I—of course I will! I'll follow my father's footsteps! For the Sect's glory, I'll give everything—even my life!"
The sudden shift left both Korbin and Halvar momentarily stunned. Halvar opened his mouth to protest, but Finn's warning glance silenced him.
Still in character, Finn pressed on, his fervor flawless. "It's only… the keep is weak now. We've just fought the Direwolf Clan—our supplies are low, our blades few. I fear we'll only slow the Sect's plans. Please, Emissary, guide me—how can I best serve the Sect?"
Korbin's eyes softened, arrogance replacing suspicion. To him, Finn was merely an ambitious young fool—useful, pliable, and eager, much like his father had been.
"Your loyalty will be remembered," Korbin said, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder. "Do not worry. One month from now, the Sect will send an initiate to instruct you in our sacred arts—and deliver a token of loyalty."
A faint gleam crossed his gaze. "Until then, purge any dissent within your keep and prepare for our command."
"Yes, Emissary! I shall obey!" Finn bowed deeply, so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
Satisfied, Korbin turned and strode out. His blue robe trailed through the firelight, leaving a fleeting shadow behind.
Only when the doors shut did Finn slowly straighten. The false zeal drained from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness.
One month. A "token of loyalty"? Finn's lips curled into a thin smile. Likely some kind of poison—like the Heart-Eater Pellet—that bound a man's life to the Sect's will.
His fingers tapped lightly on the hilt at his waist.
The Starfall Sect, was it?
He had only meant to purge the mountain clans—yet he had stumbled into something far greater.
Finn's smile deepened, sharp and dangerous.
This game had just become interesting.