? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  Late autumn brought a bone-chilling cold. The few leaves remaining on the branches shivered under the wind’s assault. Heavy, leaden clouds hung in the sky, promising not rain, but snow.

  Violetta walked at the head of the group, ears pricked. She caught every rustle, her eyes scanning the horizon. Beside her marched Brenn, his axe occasionally clanking against his heavy armor. Irellis followed slightly behind, hand hovering near her dagger. Tillo muttered incantations under his breath, while Odd’s silent gaze swept the ridgeline. The Sphere, hovering behind Violetta, hummed quietly as it swept the surrounding space.

  They were approaching the "Grey Zone"—the border between the Elven forests and the Imperial lands, a place where no one felt safe.

  Ahead, amidst the barren hills, the silhouette of an abandoned outpost emerged. Its cracked, moss-covered walls stood like silent witnesses to endless slaughter. The towers, once proud, now resembled broken teeth; the gates, half-ruined, groaned on rusted hinges. This fort had changed hands countless times—from Elves to the Empire—and every battle had left its scars.

  “Grisly place,” Tillo whined, his fingers gripping his staff nervously. “Feels like ghosts are wandering here.”

  “Ghosts?” Brenn grunted with a rough edge of humor. “The only ghosts here are the Imperial dogs still chasing us.” He spat on the ground, but his usually merry eyes were dull.

  “We have no choice,” Odd said quietly, his eyes methodically picking apart the surroundings. “Night is coming.”

  Violetta nodded, her heart tightening with dread. They entered the outpost, stepping over cobblestones choked by weeds. Inside, it smelled of dampness and rot. The air felt heavy, saturated with ancient screams. The walls were covered in names—dozens, perhaps hundreds—carved with knives or etched by magic. Deserters fleeing the Empire had left their marks here, a desperate attempt to be remembered before their bones turned to dust.

  Violetta traced her fingers over one name—“Erian”—and felt a surge of sorrow. Who was he? A soldier who broke under the cruelty? A mage who refused to serve? Her vision blurred. Noticing this, Irellis stepped closer.

  “Violetta...” Her hand rested gently on the girl’s shoulder. Her voice wavered, and her eyes, which had seen the chains of slavery, held a tenderness deeper than mere friendship. “Their souls are long gone. But their pain... it stayed behind.”

  “How cruel. Why did they have to die?” Violetta whispered. “They just wanted to be free.”

  “The Empire doesn’t tolerate freedom,” Brenn snapped, his fists clenching until his leather bracers creaked.

  Tillo, standing aside, suddenly knelt by a pile of rotting wood and pulled out a bundle of yellowed papers tied with twine. They crumbled at his touch, but one survived. Tillo carefully unfurled it.

  “Listen to this,” he said, his voice trembling. “‘I cannot watch them burn the villages anymore. They show no mercy to the children. Elves are hanged from their own trees. The Emperor demands loyalty, but I cannot serve a monster...’” Tillo stopped, his face pale. “This was written by someone named Liren. He... he probably didn't make it.”

  Violetta drew closer, her ears flattening. She read the next lines: “My daughter was just a child. They burned her with the village. I cannot forgive. Let the gods judge the Empire.” Her thoughts flashed to Lir—the mage’s apprentice they had left in the cage. His pain, his name—it all blurred into these walls. The Empire didn't just take lives; it erased hope, leaving only ash.

  “We can’t stay,” Odd said, sharp and low. “This place is a grave. We won't become part of it.”

  “I’d sooner burn it down than sleep here!” Brenn added, masking his unease with bravado. “Let’s move before we’re buried alongside these letters.”

  They moved fast, but as they cleared the gates, the Sphere suddenly flared red.

  [WARNING. MOVEMENT DETECTED TO THE NORTH. PROBABILITY OF HOSTILE PRESENCE: 90 PERCENT.]

  Violetta looked toward the horizon. Black banners fluttered in the wind like the wings of carrion birds. Imperials. And behind them—shadows moving far too fast. Black riders on dark steeds, their silhouettes bleeding into the dusk. Their eyes, if they had any, were hidden beneath hoods. Their presence turned the air thick, as if the darkness itself were advancing.

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  “Run!” Odd shouted, his bow already in hand.

  The group bolted toward the forest, their frantic steps muffled by the rustle of dry leaves.

  ? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  The thick forest swallowed them, but even its shadows couldn't hide them from the hunt. Branches lashed at their faces, roots tripped their feet, and the freezing air scorched their lungs. Violetta ran, her tail swaying, her ears catching every sound. Behind them came the thunder of hooves and a low hum, as if the earth itself groaned under the riders’ weight. She glanced back—the black figures were closing in, their horses seemingly barely touching the ground. Were they living men or revenants from the grave?

  “They won’t stop!” Tillo wheezed, his staff swinging wildly. “What kind of demons are these?”

  “Not demons,” Irellis cut in, her daggers glinting in the twilight. “Imperial hounds. But I’ll die before I go back to their chains!”

  “Less talk, more legs!” Brenn roared. His armor clattered, but he stayed in the lead, breaking a path through the brush. “If they catch us, I’m taking a few of them with me!”

  The forest thinned; the trees became stunted and charred. Burnt earth crunched underfoot, and ash, stirred by the wind, settled on their clothes. Slowly, silently, it began to snow. Icy flakes melted on Violetta’s cheeks. She felt the magic in her body pulsing, begging to be used.

  “There!” Irellis shouted, pointing to a chasm ahead. A churning, freezing river raged below. The bridge that once connected the banks lay in ruins. On their side, the trees were felled and burned; on the far bank, massive Sequoias loomed, their crowns lost in the mist, their trunks radiating an ancient, potent power.

  “We won't make it!” Tillo cried, panicking.

  Violetta stopped, her breath puffing out in white clouds. She looked at the river, then at the riders closing the gap, and made her choice.

  “I’ll try!” she said, her voice steadying.

  “What?” Brenn turned, eyes narrowing. “Girl, that’s madness! You’ll get us all killed!”

  “Trust me!” Violetta insisted, stepping to the edge.

  Irellis looked at her, eyes shimmering with fear and faith. “I know you can,” she whispered.

  Violetta raised her hands. Her eyes flared with a soft, pale blue radiance. Cold, powerful magic surged from her palms, as if winter itself were answering her call. The river water shuddered, freezing instantly, as thin threads of ice began to weave together, forming a bridge. It was fragile but beautiful—transparent as glass, etched with patterns like snowflakes.

  “Run!” Violetta shouted, her voice strained. The Sphere hummed behind her, light pulsing in time with her magic.

  The group scrambled onto the ice. Odd went first, his steps sure. Brenn gripped Irellis’s hand, balancing her. Tillo slipped, his staff clattering loudly against the ice. He nearly slid into the abyss, but Irellis caught him by the collar.

  “Don’t you dare fall, you fool!” she screamed.

  “I’m trying!” Tillo rasped, clinging to her. He managed a weak smile. “You wouldn’t leave me, right?”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Irellis grunted, though her lips twitched.

  The bridge’s surface began to spiderweb with cracks. Violetta, teeth clenched, stood at the very edge. Her magic was failing. She cast one last look at the riders. They were there—black silhouettes against the scorched forest.

  “Violetta, run!” Odd shouted, reaching out. His voice, usually cold, cracked with worry.

  She bolted. Her feet skidded on the ice as the cracks widened. The moment she hit solid ground, the bridge groaned and collapsed into the river with a roar of ice and spray. The group fell back, gasping for air.

  Violetta looked back. On the other bank, amidst the ash and charred stumps, stood a rider. He looked as if he had crawled out of the smoke and merged with it. His horse was carved from shadow, as dead as the thing sitting upon it. He sat motionless, a monument of terror. Nothing was visible beneath his helm, but his gaze... it didn't just watch. It judged.

  A silent promise: “You only breathe because I allow it.”

  “What are those monsters?” Irellis whispered, her voice breaking.

  “Neither living nor dead,” Odd said, pulling them back to reality. “I’ve heard of them. The Emperor’s personal servants—Death Riders. We must move. Now.”

  ? ─── ?? ? ?? ─── ?

  They pushed deep into a forest that felt older than time. Giant trees towered over them, their moss-covered trunks wider than village houses. Snow fell softly now. Violetta brushed her hand against a trunk and felt a sudden warmth and pulsation—as if the tree were the living heart of this place. A strange sensation woke in her chest—the feeling that she had been here before, in a dream or a memory that wasn't hers.

  The Sphere suddenly flared with blue light, its hum becoming melodic.

  [VIOLETTA,] it whispered, [THIS LOCATION RESONATES WITH ASCARI TECHNOLOGY. ADDITIONAL ANALYSIS AND CALCULATIONS REQUIRED. I AM RECEIVING ANOMALOUS SIGNALS FROM THE ENVIRONMENT. WITH YOUR PERMISSION, I WILL PROCEED WITH AN EXTENSIVE SCAN.]

  “Proceed,” Violetta whispered.

  Tillo walked beside her, eyes wide. “This place... it’s not like the others. Your magic is stronger here, isn't it? I can feel my staff humming, like it wants to sing!”

  “Sing?” Brenn huffed. “Your staff will howl if you try that ‘light-spark’ spell again. But I’ll give it to you, kid—you’ve improved. Keep it up, and I might actually buy you an ale.”

  Tillo flushed with pride.

  Irellis hummed a low elven melody, calming the woods as she looked at Violetta with adoration. “You saved us,” she said softly. “Again.”

  “We saved each other,” Violetta replied.

  Ahead, Odd stopped and raised his hand. “Something is in front of us,” he whispered, fingers finding his bow. “Not Imperials. Something... alive.”

  The forest fell silent, save for the whispering snow. Violetta felt her destiny was closer than ever. Every step took them deeper into the heart of the Elven lands, where answers—and new threats—waited.