Adventure of Kalazan 1

On Crag Crimson Rise, the control orb in Kalazan’s hand thrums like a trapped heart. Below, Willow Dale is swallowed by a low, unnatural fog that crawls straight for the hold’s warded stone.

Gold ward-light on the Scribe’s parchment flares bright, tracing the hidden route Kalazan uncovered. The fog follows that same pattern, as if some hand in the dark is reading the hold’s bones.

A seam of black runes wakes in the mountain wall beside the causeway, dim at first, then vivid with sickly violet. The hold’s ancient foundation answers the intrusion, and the air shivers with the threat of corruption spreading inward.

Kalazan stands at the threshold of the hold’s deepest weakness, with the enemy’s trail lit clear before him.

Kalazan plants his staff and snaps a conjuration through the cold air. Bone-white wings unfold from the spell in a rustle like dry leaves, and three skeletal birds wheel out over the causeway.

They dive into the fog bank, their empty sockets glowing faintly as they slash through the pale shapes hiding within it. The mist breaks apart in sudden tatters, exposing hunched scouts below.

One scout bolts for the treeline, but the birds rake the air above him and drive him back toward the open stone. Another drops his cloak and scrambles blind, clutching at the runic glow on the wall.

A skeletal bird lands on the lip of the causeway with a clack of talons and drops a torn pale feather at Kalazan’s feet. Beneath the fog, the black runes dim for a breath, as if his magic has startled something deeper in the stone.