The next morning dawned cold and grey, the skies mirroring the sombre determination within Raventhorn Castle. Elara and Kael gathered in the war room, a cavernous chamber with stone walls lined with maps and banners. A fire roared in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the table where the remnants of the altar's runes were sketched out alongside crude maps of the northern territories.

“The strangers who passed through the village,” Kael said, tapping the map. “They must have left a trail. Villages in this region are sparse, but there are trade routes to the west. If they’re carrying artefacts, they’ll need supplies or accomplices.”

Elara nodded, studying the map. “If they’re awakening these altars, they might have a pattern. The runes here—” she gestured to the symbols sketched in charcoal “—could indicate sites of similar significance. If we can find them, we might predict their next move.”

Kael turned to one of his captains, a grizzled veteran named Thane. “Prepare a scouting party. I want eyes on every western road. If they’re out there, I want to know where they’re headed.”

Thane saluted. “As you command, Your Grace.”

As the captain left, Elara traced a finger over the map, her thoughts racing. The memory of the whispers at the altar lingered, the words chillingly clear: “This is only the beginning.”

“Do you believe this is connected to your magic?” Kael’s voice broke her concentration, soft yet probing.

Elara hesitated, meeting his silver gaze. “I don’t know. But I can’t shake the feeling that it is. The crystal, the runes, the power I felt—it’s all tied together. I just don’t know how.”

Kael reached across the table, his gloved hand brushing against hers. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

The warmth of his touch steadied her, and she managed a faint smile. “Thank you, Kael. For trusting me.”

He straightened, his usual stoic mask returning. “We leave at first light. Rest while you can.”