Chapter 9: Blood and Echoes
The morning mist clung low over Greystone as Lucas stood at the edge of the castle gates, a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. Zephyra hovered above, wings silent against the wind. Umbra padded beside him like a living shadow. Across from him, Elira mounted Luna, the lynx's breath misting in the cold air.
Behind them, the Barony stirred with movement—militiamen shouting, carts rolling, workers hauling timber to reinforce the outer wall.
Reynard stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Everything is set in motion, my lord. Watchposts will be up within days, and Sir Hale has already begun drills with the townsfolk."
Lucas nodded. "Good. Keep the people steady. I don't know what we'll find at the relic site, but if it can help us against the Tide, we can't ignore it."
"Understood," Reynard said. Fen, his husky-like beast, let out a low chuff, as if in agreement.
Elira guided Luna to Lucas's side. "We should go before the forest wakes. That cemetery won't remain quiet forever."
Lucas gave one last glance back at his Barony—the half-rebuilt walls, the training field, the marketplace filled with cautious hope. Then he turned toward the western road.
"Greystone's future depends on what we find," he murmured.
And with that, they rode into the mist.
The journey took the better part of the day. The further west they traveled, the more the woods thickened. Vines hung like nooses, and roots clawed at the ground. Shadows moved where there should be none.
Lucas dismounted beside a cracked stone wall, overgrown with ivy and moss. Beyond it, ancient tombstones stood crooked and broken. Fog curled around their feet like ghosts.