Greyfall wasn't what Aric expected.
He thought it would be grand—stone towers, high walls, maybe a banner flapping in the wind like the stories Maelis used to tell when the fire was low and the night was kind.
But the city that came into view beneath the hill was tired. Its walls were cracked. Its gates, half-hanging. Smoke drifted from crooked chimneys, not like celebration—but like something trying not to be forgotten.
"Is this it?" Aric asked, pulling his hood tighter against the wind.
Maelis nodded slowly. "Used to be the last stronghold of the Emberblades. Before the wars. Before the betrayal."
"What happened?"
"Time," Maelis said. "Time and rot."
They reached the outer gate around dusk. A guard—young, bored, wrapped in a cloak too big for him—eyed them lazily.
"You're not local," he said, eyes lingering on the hilt of Aric's sword.
"No," Aric replied. "Just passing through."
The guard glanced at Maelis, then back to Aric. "That blade… it looks old."
"It is."
The guard squinted. "You're not one of them, are you?"
"One of who?"
"The Firemarked," the boy said, voice lower now. "The ones the Veil wants."
Aric said nothing.
Maelis stepped forward and dropped a small coin pouch into the guard's hand. "We don't want trouble. Just warmth and walls."
The guard hesitated, then waved them through.
Inside, Greyfall was a maze of narrow alleys and faded stone. Shops half-opened. People half-watching. No one smiled.
It felt like a city waiting to die.
Maelis led them down a winding path to a squat inn wedged between two leaning buildings. The sign above it read: The Hollow Tree.
They got a room. It smelled like old wood and cold nights.
Once the door shut behind them, Maelis dropped his bag and let out a long breath. "We'll rest here. Then I'll take you to someone tomorrow."
"Who?"
"An old friend. Someone who remembers what the Emberblades used to be."
Aric sat on the edge of the bed, the sword leaning against the wall. "What if I don't want to be one?"
Maelis looked at him, tired eyes heavy. "You already are. You just haven't accepted it yet."
Outside, the wind howled through the stone streets like it was searching for something.
And somewhere beneath the city—beneath the dust and time and stone—something stirred.
Something waiting.