Book One – Chapter 17

“A farer’s greetings, guards of the guild.” It was the ker who stepped forward and spoke first. His voice was rough, the edges rasped down by wind and exhaustion, yet he maintained a rigid formality. “I am called Elyndar Sylvren of the Avarune Ker. We are a travelling party of seven, descending the Varren after seeking oracle. We seek shelter, rest, and medical care for our wounded. We bid entry. Two of us carry passes, as we are officially registered —”

“I must postpone the greetings and your admittance, ker,” Tirran interrupted. “The witch must leave the premises at once. She is neither permitted to reside here nor to access the Eastern Snowtrail through the guild pathway. You are equally refused entry and must leave with her, by association.”

The party stirred.

“This is not a witch associated with a coven,” the ker spoke faster now, though his composure did not falter. The words came sharp yet with a noticeable caution. They were small cracks on thin ice, where a singular syllable had the potential to shatter the whole construct if mishandled. “She claims tairan ancestry and has renounced any witch heritage or connection to others of the witchkind. To further prove our peaceful intentions, we approached long before the Witching Hour.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, the witch pushed back her hood. The fabric resisted for a moment, frost-webbed and stiff, before giving way to reveal her face — a face pale and disconcertingly youthful, framed by a mass of dark hair, wind-torn but otherwise utterly normal. It gave Yu no relief. The Shaira were said to appear ageless, drawing the eye with beauty, false kindness and unnatural innocence. Wary of deception, Yu’s gaze honed in on her eyes, seeking her markings, but with the distance and darkness, he did not recognise any obvious discolouration around them. Still, her eyes stood out. They did not catch the orb light like those of the ker and the beastkin. Instead, they appeared glacial and lucid, almost opaque. Her gaze swept across the guards, brushing against Yu’s feathers like a creeping chill, probing for fractures where her presence might seep in. The white bird, perched on her arm, mirrored her movements, its golden eyes tracking the guards with the same eerie synchrony.