The forest was behind them now, but the memory clung like the scent of smoke after a fire. The caravan pressed forward in silence, the survivors subdued. Wounds had been healed, but fear lingered, carved into the faces of every guard and merchant.
Sinthia walked beside Elias, her gaze distant. She hadn't spoken much since the attack. Elias wanted to ask if she was okay, but the words caught in his throat. He had seen how close she had come to being torn apart, how her hands had trembled afterward.
Instead, he offered her a card from his deck. "Protection charm. It'll keep your heartbeat steady."
She smiled faintly, took it, and tucked it into her satchel without a word.
Jaxon led the group now, both bodies walking in sync as if daring anything to try again. Kade trailed behind the wagons, his chains occasionally twitching, ready to strike. Reed rode near Lady Arwen, his griffon perched on the wagon roof, alert and watchful.
By midday, the trail widened into a rocky ridge overlooking a valley. From above, they spotted smoke—thin, controlled, not a wildfire. A campfire.
"Scouts?" Jaxon asked.
Kade narrowed his eyes. "Or bait."
They approached cautiously, descending the ridge and weaving through sparse trees. The caravan halted as the party investigated the smoke. As they crept closer, they found a burned-out camp. Tents torn. Blood on the grass. But no bodies.
Reed crouched near the ashes. "Recently abandoned. Within an hour."
Elias stepped around a half-destroyed crate. "More of the Blackfire cult's symbols." He kicked the crate, revealing a charred emblem—a black flame over a skull.
Then the stench hit.
They found the corpses strung up between two trees—bandits or cultists, it was hard to tell. Their faces were frozen in terror, as if they'd seen something worse than death. Strange markings were carved into their flesh, symbols Elias didn't recognize.
"This wasn't the work of beasts," Reed said grimly. "Something else did this."
A soft growl made them freeze. The griffon's wings flared as it hissed toward the trees.
A massive shadow moved.
Jaxon stepped forward, his symbiote hardening into armored plating. "Show yourself."
A cloaked figure emerged, tall and gaunt, with a staff made of bone and twisted silver. His face was hidden beneath a cracked porcelain mask, and his presence made the air heavy.
"I wondered how long before the gods' little champions would reach this path," the figure said in a voice like wind scraping stone.
Kade's chains writhed. "Name. Now."
The figure tilted its head. "I am Malrek. Flamebound Seer of the Blackfire Cult. And you've just stepped onto the threshold of the Burning Spiral."
Reed stepped forward. "You killed those men?"
Malrek chuckled. "They failed me. As will you. But no matter—you'll make fine offerings."
Before anyone could respond, Malrek vanished into a swirl of dark flame. Where he had stood, a sigil burned into the earth, pulsing with residual magic.
"We'll see him again," Jaxon muttered.
Back at the caravan, the party explained what they had found. Arwen's face darkened. "This cult… they're growing bolder. They're not just hunting relics—they're hunting you."
That night, no one slept deeply. The forest behind them, the cult ahead. Whatever the Burning Spiral was, they were on a path that could not be turned from.
And soon, the true nightmare would begin.