House of Blood

The frost of the Northern Marches didn’t just bite—it clung to the skin like needles of ice.

We rode under the cover of a moonless sky, our four shadow-steeds gliding across the snowbanks with silent, unnatural speed. The black, spectral flames dancing around their hooves left no tracks in the powder, erasing our trail the moment we passed.

I sat behind Rook, my small hands gripping the back of his dark wool coat.

Every jolt of the ride resonated through my bandaged torso, a constant, dull throb reminding me of Garren’s extraction spell. Beneath my obsidian-silk blindfold, my crimson perception mapped out the vast, white wasteland stretching for miles around us.

”We’re crossing into the territory of the Frost-Tooth clan,” Rook spoke softly, his voice barely a whisper above the howling arctic wind. ”Keep your mana tightly contained, Young Master. The Orc-Blood Nomads can smell an unrefined aura from leagues away.”

Beside us, Vespera rode with her hood drawn low, her massive battle scythe wrapped in heavy canvas across her back. Caelum brought up the rear, his massive frame hunched against the biting cold, his eyes constantly scanning the jagged pine ridges flanking the mountain pass.

’Up ahead, kid,’ Wren warned from inside my shadow, her spiritual form shivering slightly. ’The air is turning foul. I smell blood, iron... and that disgusting, rot-like abyssal stench.’

”Stop,” Vespera commanded, holding up a gloved hand.

The shadow-steeds halted instantly, their dark forms melting seamlessly into the snow-shadows.

Ahead of us, at the mouth of a narrow glacial gorge, lay the remains of an Orc-Blood nomad outpost.

The wooden watchtowers were shattered, crushed like dry twigs under immense physical force. Black, oily smoke rose into the pale morning light, carrying the unmistakable scent of scorched flesh and copper.

Caelum slid off his mount, stepping into the deep snow without making a sound. He knelt by a trampled snowbank, dipping his gloved fingers into a dark, frozen puddle.

”Fresh,” Caelum grunted, his brow furrowing as he smelled his fingertips. ”Less than an hour old. Sec branch enforcers... but the mana left in the stone isn’t pure blood-art.”

”It’s star-rot,” Vespera said coldly, dismounting and walking toward the destroyed village gate. ”Garren’s men aren’t just passing through. They’re culling the border tribes to fuel their rituals.”

I slipped down from Rook’s steed, my soft boots sinking into the icy crust.

As I approached the ruined center of the outpost, my newly awakened dragon senses picked up a faint, irregular heartbeat buried beneath a mound of fallen timbers and crushed hides.

”There’s a survivor,” I whispered, pointing toward a collapsed watchtower.

Caelum didn’t hesitate.

With a single, fluid motion, he hauled a massive oak beam off the rubble, tossing it aside like a straw.

Beneath the debris lay a young girl, no older than twelve.

Her skin was a deep, bronze-green, and small, pale tusks protruded from her lower lip. She wore heavy, fur-lined leather armor, though her shoulder was torn open, bleeding thick, dark-red blood onto the snow.

In her small, trembling hand, she gripped a broken bone-headed spear, her golden-yellow eyes wild with feral rage and terror.

”Back... back, blood-demons!” she spat, her voice raspy and choked with smoke as she tried to raise her shattered weapon toward Caelum.

”Hold your ground, little warrior,” Caelum said softly, raising his large, bare hands to show he carried no weapons. ”We are not Sec branch traitors.”

The girl’s golden eyes flicked from Caelum’s massive frame to Vespera’s terrifying aura, finally settling on me.

She stared at my small stature, my dark noble cloak, and the black silk bound over my eyes.

”Sanguis...” she gasped, her teeth grinding in fury. ”You... you brought the rot-creatures to our valley!”

”We came to hunt the man who brought them,” I said, taking a slow, careful step forward.

I reached into my coat, pulled out a small glass vial of refined blood-soothing salve—a high-grade potion Alexis had packed for my own injuries—and tossed it gently into her lap.

”Apply that to your shoulder. It will stop the dark-decay before it reaches your heart.”

The barbarian girl looked at the vial, then up at me, suspicion warring with survival instincts.

Slowly, she uncorked the bottle with her teeth and poured the glowing crimson liquid directly into her open wound.

She winced, a sharp hiss escaping her tusks as the salve hissed against the dark infection, turning the purplish decay back into fresh, healthy blood.

”I am Kaelen,” she grunted, breathing heavily as the pain subsided. ”Daughter of Chieftain Borka of the Frost-Tooth.”

”Valerian Prim Sanguis,” I replied. ”Where is your father?”

Kaelen’s face darkened, her grip tightening on her broken spear until her knuckles turned white.

”The grey-haired monster came with thirty masked devils,” she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. ”They didn’t just attack us... they brought strange, skinless beasts that crawl on four legs. They dragged my father and the tribal warriors north toward the Frost-Grave Rift.”

” QUEST ALERT: RESCUE CHIEFTAIN BORKA ”

” OBJECTIVE: INTERCEPT SEC BRANCH CONVOY ”

” THREAT LEVEL: HIGH (MULTIPLE STAGE 2/3 ENFORCERS + ABYSSAL BEASTS) ”

’Skinless beasts...’ Wren hissed inside my head, her shadowy wings flaring with absolute disgust.

’Abyssal Scavengers. Low-tier demon hounds used to feast on dead mana cores. Garren is already feeding the rift, Valerian.’

”How long ago did they leave?” Vespera asked, her cold voice cutting through the arctic wind.

”Half an hour,” Kaelen replied, forcing herself to stand on shaking legs.

She leaned heavily on her broken spear, looking directly at Vespera.

”If you are going to the rift to kill the grey monster... take me. I know the shortcuts through the Glacial Crevasse. Your horses cannot cross the thin ice ahead.”

Caelum looked at Vespera, a subtle smirk touching his rugged face.

”She’s got spirit, Sister. Reminds me of you when you were twelve.”

”No,” Vespera said sternly. ”She’s injured, and this is a war zone.”

”If you go around the crevasse, it will take you three hours,” Kaelen countered fiercely, taking a painful step forward and glaring at Vespera with unyielding pride.

”My father will be dead, the rift seal will be broken, and your valley will burn. You need a guide, Sanguis.”

I looked at Kaelen through my crimson perception.

Her core was small, barely equivalent to a Stage 1 novice, but her spirit burned with an intense, unyielding fire—a true warrior of the northern wastes.

”She’s right,” I said softly, looking at Vespera. ”We don’t have three hours.”

Vespera remained silent for a long moment, looking at the rising black smoke in the northern sky, before letting out a sharp, frosty sigh.

”Rook,” Vespera commanded. ”Bind her shoulder properly and carry her. If she slows us down by a single second... we leave her behind.”

”Understood, Lady Vespera,” Rook said, bowing smoothly as he stepped forward to wrap a clean linen bandage over Kaelen’s arm.

Kaelen gritted her teeth, allowing the old butler to lift her onto the back of his shadow-steed behind him.

As she settled in, she looked over at me, her sharp yellow eyes analyzing my quiet, small posture.

”You’re a strange boy, blind Sanguis,” Kaelen muttered, adjusting her broken spear across her back. ”You look like a breeze could blow you over, but your blood smells like an old dragon.”

I offered her a faint, bitter smile as I climbed back onto Rook’s mount.

”Let’s hope this old dragon can run fast enough,” I whispered.

We urged the shadow-steeds forward, plunging into the narrow, white jaws of the Glacial Crevasse.

The game of political chess in the southern courts was miles behind us now; here in the frozen north, only steel, blood, and survival remained.