Thunder rolls over Soryu Keep as the Human Council gathers.
The chamber smells of iron and storm. Torches burn blue with spellfire.
Teinshi kneels in the circle of runes. His wrists are bound by silver cords, the mark of obedience. Around him, the elders chant the words of the Blood Oath, the vow that binds a commander's soul to the will of the realm.
"Swear upon the Rule of Two," intones High Marshal Kareth, "that you will hunt the orc witch who defied the gods' law."
Teinshi's throat is dry. Witch. The word curdles in him. He sees again the blaze of gold and silver, the eyes across the battlefield that were not hateful but alive.
He answers anyway. "I swear."
Blood from his palm drips into the rune circle. Light flares scarlet, latching to his veins. Pain floods through him, sharp as ice. The vow seals itself inside his chest.
When the light fades, the elders depart, murmuring approval. Only his mother remains.
"Every Raen who took that oath died young," she says quietly. "Break it if you can."
Teinshi meets her gaze. "What if it's not the gods who are angry, but the gods who are calling?"
Her face pales. "Then pray they choose someone else."
Outside, the rain turns to sleet. The storm is moving toward the mountains.
Far to the west, inside the Bloodfang fortress, Adodeme stands in her clan's sacred hall. The air is thick with incense and heat; her father's warlords surround her like statues carved from shadow.
"You will swear the Oath of Flame," Warchief Voryn declares. "The humans have trespassed against the mountain. The gods marked you to avenge it."
A blade glows in the firepit. Druak draws it out and offers it hilt-first. Adodeme grips the weapon; molten metal bites her palm.
"I swear," she says, voice steady though the pain blurs her vision. "If the gods marked me, I will burn their enemies in their name."
The flame leaps from her blood to the brazier, twisting into a serpent again before dissolving in sparks. The elders roar approval. Only her mother stays silent.
After the hall empties, Delaya steps close. "The serpent doesn't devour—it binds," she whispers. "Whatever you saw in that valley, it will come for you again. Be ready."
Adodeme's pulse pounds against the new mark on her palm. She looks toward the storm flashing beyond the fortress walls and feels the same pull, the same echo that trembled through her heart in battle.
Night falls on both kingdoms.
Teinshi stands on the battlements of Soryu, the oath rune still burning on his hand. Adodeme stands on her mountain terrace, her own mark glowing like molten gold.
Lightning forks across the sky, connecting east and west for a single breath.
Both feel it—the thread tightening between them.
The oaths they swore to destroy each other are chains forged by the same unseen will.
When the thunder fades, each whispers the same word into the dark:
"Why?"
The wind carries the question across the world.