The snow fell in a thick, soundless shroud, blanketing the Frostbound Reach in white so pure it hurt your eyes.

You pressed deeper into the forest, breath fogging the icy air, each inhale scraping raw against your lungs. The cold did not sting; it seeped into your bones, as if trying to preserve you with the secrets buried here.

Behind you, the world was suspiciously silent.

Not even animals made their noises. Nothing but unsettling silence. But you knew better than to think it was safe or peaceful.

They were close. Closer than ever.

You had not just run.

You had stolen from The Order.

The Sigil Core, a relic older than the Order itself, pulsed at your hip like a second heartbeat. You did not take it out of rebellion or to sell it. The Core is a ledger of their sins—bloodlines twisted, heirs replaced, vows enforced through magic. If it is revealed, their entire myth of Balance collapses. Activated, it makes you more than a fugitive. It makes you the key to their downfall, and you would ensure it.

The snow muted everything until shadows moved.

Kaelix appeared first, stepping from between skeletal pines with the stillness of a ghost trapped in time. Tall, lean, built for agility rather than brute force, his presence carried authority without sound. His black hair swept back in order, his steel-gray eyes locked onto you, calculating. The strategist of the four, he always seemed to know where this ended before it began.

Draven followed, shoulders broad enough to seem like armor on their own. Bronze skin scarred from a hundred fights, storm-blue eyes sparking with restless hunger. He grinned beneath his battered mask, dark auburn hair falling wild across his face. Every step was coiled violence, impatient and daring you to meet him head-on.

You shifted instinctively, and that was when you felt the additional presence. Talon. Already there, off to your left. Pale and sharp, his lean frame was built like a shadow given form. His uneven black hair hung loose, his obsidian coloured eyes unreadable. He did not need to move or speak to be dangerous; his silence was enough because you knew he had already found every weakness in you.

Valen arrived last, brushing snow from his sleeve like this was all theatre and he was the main character everyone waited for. Graceful, almost princely, his silver-white hair caught the moonlight and framed a face too striking to trust. His emerald eyes shimmered with amusement, his smirk slow, practiced, so that you could see his mask lifting with it. Every detail of him spoke of charm, but underneath was a knife waiting for the chance to cut your throat.

They circled you, deliberate and patient, like a pack of wolves surrounding deadly prey.

The snowfall thickened, muting the clearing into a tomb.

Your hand brushed the Core. Kaelix’s gaze flicked to the motion.

“You’ve run long enough,” Kaelix said, his voice gruff and firm.

Draven cracked his knuckles, his grin widening to lift his mask much like Valen's, only his was more threat than showmanship.

“Time to see if you’re as good as they say.” Draven purred with an excited edge to his words.

Talon stepped forward once, the soundless shift heavier than words.

But Valen just tilted his head, snow clinging to his lashes.

Run or fight, little snowflake. We’re fine either way.” Valen said in a challenge with his deep rumbling voice.

Above, the clouds parted. Moonlight cut through the dark in a single red beam. A blood moon that lit the snow like a stage.

Every breath leaving your lips felt loud, and every heartbeat thundered in your chest in a frantic rhythm.

And you knew: this was not just a hunt. It was judgment and sentencing.