Ash Pact

Ashes Remember

The wind that clawed through the Vale that night smelled of smoke and memory.

Amara Duskvale stood top the charred hill where her family estate once ruled, now a graveyard of twisted stone and ash. The moon hung low, casting pale light over the ruins. She pressed a hand to the dagger strapped beneath her cloak-an old, worn thing, but it had belonged to her mother. That alone made it sacred.

Seven years. Seven years since the massacre. Since she'd watched the Ravencroft banners rise over her burning home. Whiles Kael Ravencroft's army had painted the soil red with the blood of her skin. Since her sister, Thalia, had been dragged from her arms, screaming, and disappeared into the night.

Everyone believed Amara died that day.

Let them.

Now, cloaked in the name of a wandering herbalist, she moved like a shadow through kingdoms. Always searching. Always hunting. Until whispers began to rise: of a cursed prince haunting the northern woods, ruling over a forgotten stronghold, surrounded by creatures that didn't bleed.

Kael Ravencroft was alive.

And Amara meant to kill him.

---

The forest pressed in like a secret as she walked deeper into Ravencroft territory. Her contact-a mercenary named Elias Vane-had given her the route. "He takes healers," he'd told her with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "One every few months. No one ever comes back."

She intended to be the first.

As dusk fell, cold mist kissed her skin. The trees bent unnaturally, as if listening. Then: movement. From the shadows, a rider approached on a black steed, armored in obsidian and silence.

Amara didn't flinch.

The rider stopped before her. A woman-pale, otherworldly, with eyes like dead silver.

"You've crossed into Ravencroft lands," the woman said. "Name and trade."

"Lira Verdan. Healer," Amara lied smoothly. "I heard your prince takes in those with skill."

The rider studied her. "He does."

A pause, long enough to chill.

"But he also devours those who lie."

Amara's heartbeat remained steady. She met the woman's stare. "Then it's a good thing I came to serve, not deceive."

Another beat. Then the rider turned her horse.

"Follow me, then," she said. "If you're lucky, he'll keep you. If you're not... well. At least the woods will remember your bones."

---

By nightfall, Amara saw it.

The Ravencroft Keep.

It rose from the mist like a wound in the earth-black stone, ancient and pulsing with quiet magic. No torches lined its walls, and yet it glowed faintly, as if lit from within. Shadows slithered along the towers, but not from the moon. Something darker lived here.

She stepped through the gate.

The air inside the keep was warm, humming with energy she couldn't name. It settled on her skin like breath. Her guide vanished without a word.

Then she saw him.

Kael.

He stood at the top of the throne dais, half in shadow. Not the boy she remembered, but a man carved from ruin. Dark hair falling over sharp features. Broad-shouldered, wrapped in deep crimson and black, and those eyes-unnatural, gold like a predator's, watching her as if he'd already unspooled every thought in her mind.

His voice broke the silence. Low. Rough. Unmistakably dangerous.

"You are not what you pretend to be."

Amara's spine locked, but her voice remained calm. "You summoned a healer. I came."

He descended the steps like a slow storm. "No one comes here unless they're desperate. Or lying."

He stopped in front of her. Close enough to touch. Her breath caught-not from fear, but from the pull. There was something in him. Something ancient and wrong. It curled around her like a scent she almost recognized.

And yet she couldn't look away.

His gaze drifted to the dagger hidden under her cloak. She knew he saw it. Knew he could kill her before she even blinked.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned in, so close his mouth almost brushed her ear.

"Welcome to Ravencroft, little liar," Kael murmured, voice velvet over blades. "Let's see how long your mask lasts."

Ashes Remember

The wind that clawed through the Vale that night smelled of smoke and memory.

Amara Duskvale stood atop the charred hill where her family estate once ruled, now a graveyard of twisted stone and ash. The moon hung low, casting pale light over the ruins. She pressed a hand to the dagger strapped beneath her cloak-an old, worn thing, but it had belonged to her mother. That alone made it sacred.

Seven years. Seven years since the massacre. Since she'd watched the Ravencroft banners rise over her burning home. Since Kael Ravencroft's army had painted the soil red with the blood of her kin. Since her sister, Thalia, had been dragged from her arms, screaming, and disappeared into the night.

Everyone believed Amara died that day.

Let them.

Now, cloaked in the name of a wandering herbalist, she moved like a shadow through kingdoms. Always searching. Always hunting. Until whispers began to rise: of a cursed prince haunting the northern woods, ruling over a forgotten stronghold, surrounded by creatures that didn't bleed.

Kael Ravencroft was alive.

And Amara meant to kill him.

---

The forest pressed in like a secret as she walked deeper into Ravencroft territory. Her contact-a mercenary named Elias Vane-had given her the route. "He takes healers," he'd told her with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "One every few months. No one ever comes back."

She intended to be the first.

As dusk fell, cold mist kissed her skin. The trees bent unnaturally, as if listening. Then: movement. From the shadows, a rider approached on a black steed, armored in obsidian and silence.

Amara didn't flinch.

The rider stopped before her. A woman-pale, otherworldly, with eyes like dead silver.

"You've crossed into Ravencroft lands," the woman said. "Name and trade."

"Lira Verdan. Healer," Amara lied smoothly. "I heard your prince takes in those with skill."

The rider studied her. "He does."

A pause, long enough to chill.

"But he also devours those who lie."

Amara's heartbeat remained steady. She met the woman's stare. "Then it's a good thing I came to serve, not deceive."

Another beat. Then the rider turned her horse.

"Follow me, then," she said. "If you're lucky, he'll keep you. If you're not... well. At least the woods will remember your bones."

---

By nightfall, Amara saw it.

The Ravencroft Keep.

It rose from the mist like a wound in the earth-black stone, ancient and pulsing with quiet magic. No torches lined its walls, and yet it glowed faintly, as if lit from within. Shadows slithered along the towers, but not from the moon. Something darker lived here.

She stepped through the gate.

The air inside the keep was warm, humming with energy she couldn't name. It settled on her skin like breath. Her guide vanished without a word.

Then she saw him.

Kael.

He stood at the top of the throne dais, half in shadow. Not the boy she remembered, but a man carved from ruin. Dark hair falling over sharp features. Broad-shouldered, wrapped in deep crimson and black, and those eyes-unnatural, gold like a predator's, watching her as if he'd already unspooled every thought in her mind.

His voice broke the silence. Low. Rough. Unmistakably dangerous.

"You are not what you pretend to be."

Amara's spine locked, but her voice remained calm. "You summoned a healer. I came."

He descended the steps like a slow storm. "No one comes here unless they're desperate. Or lying."

He stopped in front of her. Close enough to touch. Her breath caught-not from fear, but from the pull. There was something in him. Something ancient and wrong. It curled around her like a scent she almost recognized.

And yet she couldn't look away.

His gaze drifted to the dagger hidden under her cloak. She knew he saw it. Knew he could kill her before she even blinked.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned in, so close his mouth almost brushed her ear.

"Welcome to Ravencroft, little liar," Kael murmured, voice velvet over blades. "Let's see how long your mask lasts."