The cold northern wind howled through the peaks as Kael and his companions marched into the desolate highlands. Gone were the scattered villages and fading empires. This was unclaimed land—forgotten by the world and ruled by whispers.
They were no longer chasing names of men.
They were chasing myths.
And Vaelrik, the last thread, waited in the dark.
Signs in the Stone
Merek halted as they reached an ancient stone circle half-buried in snow. Carvings lined the monoliths—jagged spirals and interlocked runes, each radiating a quiet dread.
"This is a rite marker," Merek murmured. "The Order of Silent Ash performed soul erasures here."
"Soul erasures?" Lyra echoed.
"They don't just kill people," he replied grimly. "They wipe them from existence. Names, memories, family lines—forgotten by everyone but themselves."
Kael looked at the stones. "Is that what they tried to do to me?"
"No," Merek said, running his fingers over a rune. "They failed. Somehow, you endured."
The Hunter Appears
The first attack came without warning.
An arrow whistled through the air, striking Thorn's shoulder.
He grunted, falling back, the wound glowing with a black, creeping rot.
"Ambush!" Lyra cried, raising a barrier just in time to deflect a second arrow.
From the shadows of the rocks, a cloaked figure stepped out. His eyes burned with orange sigils, and his armor was etched in ash and bone.
"You tread on cursed ground," he said. "Turn back, and you may keep your souls."
Kael stepped forward, drawing his sword. "You're with the Order?"
"I am its hunter," the man replied. "And you, Kael Varin, are marked for extinction."
A Duel in the Snow
The hunter moved like wind over glass—silent, precise, lethal.
Kael barely parried the first flurry, sparks flashing with every strike.
Thorn, despite the wound, hurled his axe, forcing the hunter back.
Lyra's chants laced the air with light, weakening the hunter's illusions.
But the enemy adapted.
He vanished into mist, reappeared behind Lyra, and slashed downward—
Only for Kael to intercept, their blades clashing so hard the mountain seemed to groan.
"You're skilled," the hunter said, voice calm even in battle. "But you carry a name the Order cannot allow to survive."
Kael's eyes burned. "Then tell the Order they should've sent more than one."
Breaking the Mark
With a sudden surge of dark light, the hunter's blade burst into fire. Kael dodged, barely avoiding the searing arc. But he didn't back down.
He remembered Velda.
He remembered Rath.
He remembered his wife, screaming as flames swallowed their home.
And something in him cracked.
Kael's sword pulsed with dark red light.
His strike shattered the hunter's blade—and Kael plunged his sword through the man's chest.
The hunter gasped. "You… are the fracture…"
He fell to his knees, dissolving into black ash.
Merek rushed to Thorn's side, healing the poisoned wound.
Kael stood over the dying mist of the hunter and whispered, "One more name… gone."
The Path Ahead
The wind howled again, but this time… it felt colder.
Because if the Order sent a hunter for Kael, they were afraid.
Afraid of his name.
Afraid of the one they couldn't erase.
Kael turned to the others.
"We press on."
Thorn nodded. "We're with you."
Lyra looked to the sky. "Even if the stars fall."
Merek opened his book again, his eyes unreadable.
"Then let them come," Kael said. "Until the last name dies."
To be continue...