The sky had never looked like this before.
Heavy storm clouds loomed above Eldermere, thick and restless. The air was heavy, charged with something unnatural, like the moments before a great storm—except no rain fell. No wind howled.
It was silent.
Aric stood at the village gates, hand clenched around his sword hilt, listening.
Then—
A horn blast split the quiet.
The scouts had returned.
And they were riding fast.
The village square was in chaos by the time Aric reached it.
The returning scouts rode hard through Eldermere's gates, their horses panting and soaked in sweat. The riders looked worse—pale, trembling, their eyes wide with something more than exhaustion.
Fear.
A crowd had gathered, murmurs rippling through them as the scouts dismounted.
Torin, their leader, nearly fell from his saddle.
Aric caught him. "Talk."
Torin looked at him, face ashen. "An army," he rasped. "Knights. Hundreds of them. They march on Eldermere."
Lira, standing nearby, immediately drew her dagger. "House Renar?"
Torin shook his head violently. "No. Their banners are different. Not crimson and gold. Black and silver."
A cold, leaden weight settled in Aric's stomach.
House Renar had been a known enemy.
But black and silver? That belonged to House Margrave.
Kael, who had been listening quietly, let out a low curse.
"That's bad," he muttered.
Aric turned to him sharply. "You know them?"
Kael exhaled, his usual smirk absent. "I've heard the stories."
Lira narrowed her eyes. "What kind of stories?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "House Margrave doesn't fight wars," he said. "They don't need to."
A heavy silence followed.
Aric's gut twisted.
If they weren't here for war—
Then why were they coming?
By midday, the army was visible.
Aric stood atop Eldermere's watchtower, staring out across the valley.
The knights of House Margrave moved in eerie silence, black and silver armor gleaming beneath the dull sun. Their banners—marked with a three-eyed raven—flapped in the cold wind.
But something was wrong.
They marched too perfectly.
Most armies—even trained ones—had subtle imperfections. Soldiers shifted their footing, adjusted weapons, whispered among themselves.
These knights?
They did none of that.
Their formation was flawless, every movement mirrored exactly.
They weren't just disciplined.
They were unnatural.
Kael stood beside Aric, arms crossed. He let out a slow, uneasy breath. "I don't like this."
Lira, gripping the railing, shook her head. "Neither do I."
Aric's mind raced.
House Margrave had never taken interest in this land before.
And now, an army approached, moving like a single entity.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't human.
The first sign of true horror came from the villagers.
A woman—Marna, a young hunter—stumbled into the square, eyes wide with fear.
"I saw them last night," she whispered. "Before the sun rose."
Aric turned to her. "And?"
She swallowed hard.
"Some of them didn't have eyes."
A thick, awful silence followed.
Kael let out a slow breath. "Well. That's new."
Lira shot him a glare. "You think this is funny?"
Kael shook his head. "No. I think it's a problem."
Aric turned back to the valley.
Because Marna wasn't lying.
Now that they were closer—he saw it.
Not all of the knights were… whole.
Some were missing pieces of their armor. But beneath the gaps, there was no flesh. No skin.
Just empty space.
"We need to prepare for war," Aric said.
Lira nodded immediately. "We have enough men to hold the walls, but if they have sorcery—"
"We don't even know what they are," Kael cut in. "Fighting ghosts won't be like fighting soldiers."
Aric exhaled slowly. "Then we adapt."
He turned back toward the knights.
Something was terribly wrong.
And the Rift was reacting to them.
The first shockwave hit the earth like a hammer.
A pulse—deep, resonant.
Not in the air.
Not in the wind.
Through the land itself.
Lira stumbled, catching herself against the wall. "What the hell was that?"
Kael cursed, bracing himself. "It's coming from the Rift."
Aric barely heard them.
Because in his mind, a voice whispered.
"They are coming for you."
His breath hitched.
"And they are not the only ones."
The storm above the Rift churned violently.
Lightning split the sky.
The ground rumbled.
And then—
The Rift pulsed again.
Not weakly.
Not like before.
This time—it was violent.
A shockwave rippled through the land, sending villagers stumbling.
Aric barely kept his footing.
Then, in the far distance, just beyond the knights of House Margrave…
The Rift opened.
For a moment, just a sliver.
Just enough to see something.
Something watching him.
And then—
The Rift slammed shut.
And the knights continued marching.
As if nothing had happened.
As if they hadn't just walked alongside something from the other side.
And then—the final horror.
The closest knight to Eldermere—the one at the front of the formation—turned its head slightly.
Not toward the village.
Toward Aric.
Though it had no face, no eyes…
It was looking at him.
And it knew him.