Chapter 11: ALLIANCES AND ENEMIES
The gates of the Obsidian Spire slammed shut behind Reed, their echo rolling like a war drum.
He didn’t look back.
But he could feel the eyes—hundreds of them. Lords, Heroes, assassins in training, spymasters behind masks. The wolves had seen the wound in the system—and the one who bit it.
He could feel the world shifting. Blood had been promised. Now they waited for it to spill.
They hadn’t gone a mile from the Spire when the offer came.
A raven landed on Reed’s shoulder. Its eyes glowed dull blue. A message was burned into its feathers, etched like scars.
"We have no crowns. But we see clearly. Let us speak."— Lord Maul of Ashendusk
Shia raised an eyebrow. "Ashendusk is dead territory. Or so they claim."
Reed plucked the raven’s head clean off and tossed the twitching body aside. "Then let’s go see what the dead want."
They found the camp that night—a circle of broken stones, bonfires burning green, and figures in masks made of bark and bone. At its center stood Lord Maul, a man with no eyes. His face was wrapped in silk, his skin blotched and raw.
He spoke with a voice like crackling parchment. "You reek of change."