The cold hit harder beyond the walls.
Sharper.
Alive.
Snow crunched beneath their boots as Corvyn led the charge.
Straight into the dark.
Straight into them.
No hesitation.
Nightfeather struck first.
A clean arc—
One enemy fell.
Then another.
The Ravaryn warriors followed close behind.
A tight formation.
Cutting forward like a blade through flesh.
Halric fought at Corvyn's side.
Brutal.
Relentless.
"Keep moving!" he shouted.
"Don't let them surround us!"
They pushed deeper.
Every step earned in blood.
The masked warriors closed in.
From all sides.
But Corvyn did not slow.
His eyes were fixed ahead.
On one target.
The figure.
Still standing at the center.
Still watching.
Waiting.
As if this was inevitable.
As if it had always been meant to happen.
A blade came for Corvyn's side—
He turned it aside without looking.
Cut down the attacker in the same motion.
Another lunged—
Halric took him down.
"They really don't like you," Halric muttered.
"They're not here for me," Corvyn replied.
His grip tightened on Nightfeather.
"They're here for this."
The blade pulsed faintly.
Once.
Then again.
Halric noticed.
"…You feel that?"
"Yes."
It was no longer just steel.
No longer just a weapon.
It was responding.
Awakening.
Calling back.
The distance between them and the figure closed.
Ten steps.
Five.
Then—
The ground shifted.
A sudden force slammed outward from the figure.
Invisible.
Violent.
Corvyn skidded back a step.
The others staggered.
But did not fall.
The masked warriors stopped.
Forming a circle around them.
A ring of silence.
The figure stepped forward.
Slow.
Measured.
Its presence heavier now.
Stronger.
The air itself seemed to bend around it.
Corvyn raised Nightfeather.
The blade trembled.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
The figure spoke.
Clearer this time.
Stronger.
"…the bearer returns…"
Halric's voice dropped.
"I really don't like how that sounds."
Corvyn didn't answer.
His focus was absolute.
"…the bond remains…"
The figure lifted its hand.
Not to strike—
But to reach.
Toward the blade.
"…it belongs below…"
Corvyn stepped forward instead.
Closing the distance.
"No."
A single word.
Cold.
Final.
The figure paused.
As if surprised.
Then—
The air broke.
Corvyn moved.
Faster than before.
Nightfeather cut through the space between them.
The figure reacted.
Too slow.
The blade struck.
A clean line across its chest.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then—
The mask cracked.
A thin fracture spreading across its surface.
The figure staggered back.
The ring of warriors faltered.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
Halric surged forward.
"Now!"
The Ravaryn men struck as one.
Breaking the circle.
Driving the enemy back.
The figure steadied itself.
But something had changed.
Its movements slower.
Its presence… weakened.
Corvyn saw it.
Felt it.
The blade had done more than cut.
It had answered.
The figure tilted its head once more.
But this time—
Not in control.
In uncertainty.
"…you do not understand…"
Corvyn stepped forward again.
Nightfeather raised.
"Then make me."
The wind howled across the battlefield.
Snow swirling between them.
Two forces.
Two wills.
Bound by something older than either could name.
And as the battle raged around them—
The truth began to surface.
The blade…
And the thing beneath the earth…
Were never separate.