The forest had been quiet for hours. Too quiet. Even the wind through the skeletal branches seemed reluctant to disturb the hush.
Kaelen led the way through the undergrowth, his boots crunching softly on frost-tipped leaves. Lyra walked beside him, hood drawn low, eyes flicking now and then toward the shadows. Behind them, Seralyn and the others kept pace, their gear clinking faintly.
"We've been out longer than planned," Seralyn muttered, scanning the tree line. "Camp should be just beyond the ridge."
Kaelen nodded but didn't slow his pace. "Let's keep moving."
A sudden flutter broke the stillness — the rapid, urgent beating of wings. From above, a black-feathered messenger bird swooped low, landing directly on Kaelen's outstretched arm. The creature's beady eyes locked on him as it dropped a sealed scroll into his hand.
"That's from camp," Seralyn guessed, resting her hand on her sword.
Kaelen broke the seal and scanned the contents. His expression hardened. "Someone's there. Waiting for us."
"Friend or foe?" Lyra asked, her voice soft.
Kaelen glanced at her. "It says she's calling herself 'The Crimson Widow.'"
Lyra's brow furrowed. "The one from your first battle?"
"The very same," Seralyn said darkly. "Velira. Loyal to Vorath. If she's at our camp, it's not to share tea."
Kaelen folded the note. "Let's find out."
They quickened their pace, crossing the ridge until the flicker of campfire light came into view. The scent of burning wood reached them, mingling with the faint tang of metal.
Velira sat by the fire as though she had every right to be there. Her crimson cloak draped elegantly over one shoulder, gloved hands resting on her knees. Her long black hair caught the firelight, and when she looked up, her eyes glimmered with a knowing smile.
"You took your time," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your way."
Kaelen stepped into the firelight. "Velira."
She inclined her head slightly, almost in greeting. "Kaelen. And… Lyra, is it? I've heard your name."
Lyra's gaze sharpened for a fraction of a second before softening into a polite smile. "I can't imagine from where."
Velira's lips curved. "Oh, I make it my business to know many things. I admit, the two of you together intrigue me."
Seralyn moved forward, her tone edged. "State your business before I lose my patience."
Velira ignored her entirely, her eyes never leaving Kaelen. "I came here alone, without Vorath's command, because I wished to speak with you directly. I've seen you fight, Kaelen. You're… different."
Kaelen crossed his arms. "And?"
"And I would rather not see that talent wasted," Velira replied, leaning forward slightly. "There's a place for you at Vorath's side."
Lyra tilted her head innocently. "A generous offer. What's the price?"
Velira's gaze flicked to her briefly, almost appraisingly, before returning to Kaelen. "Only your loyalty. Surrender now, and you might be spared what's coming."
Seralyn scoffed. "We're not in the habit of kneeling to tyrants."
Velira smiled faintly. "Tyrant, savior… words are just weapons for the tongue. What matters is who holds power — and Vorath holds more than you know."
Kaelen stepped closer to the fire, his voice low. "If you came here to threaten us, you can leave."
Velira didn't flinch. "If I came here to threaten you, you'd already know it." She stood gracefully, her cloak swirling around her. "No, Kaelen. I came here because I see… potential. I wanted to give you the chance to make the right choice."
The camp fell silent, only the fire crackling between them.
"We'll talk more," Velira said softly. "Tomorrow."
Without another word, she turned and walked toward one of the empty tents as though she owned the place.
Lyra's eyes followed her, unreadable. "She's… not what I expected."
Seralyn muttered, "That's the problem."
Kaelen said nothing. He simply watched the crimson figure disappear into the shadows of the tent, the unease in his gut twisting tighter.