Chapter 3: Unlikely Sanctuary

The cold wind howled across Snowridge’s crumbling streets, sending sharp gusts of snow swirling into every corner. Asha’s cloak billowed behind her as she walked swiftly, her thoughts fixed on the task at hand. The Soulbone Imprint was still out of reach, but the clues were starting to weave together, faint but undeniable. However, there was something else—something about the beasts Darian had mentioned that gnawed at her thoughts. Blood Pact. It was more than just a manipulation of beasts. It was tied to the heart of her people’s destruction.

She glanced over her shoulder at Darian, who trailed a few paces behind her, his dark eyes scanning the streets with an intensity that mirrored her own. The Nightwatch Commander wasn’t someone she had expected to rely on, but in this city, with the wolves closing in, she couldn’t afford to ignore his insight.

The attack site Darian had mentioned was only a short walk away, and it didn’t take long before the scene came into view. A small merchant's cart lay abandoned, its contents scattered across the snow. The body of the merchant—torn apart—was lying in a grotesque pile, his flesh shredded by claws too powerful to be from an ordinary wolf.

Asha moved toward the body, her face impassive, but inside, a cold dread seeped into her bones. She had seen death before, had seen her people ripped apart by the forces of betrayal, but this was different. There was an unnatural savagery to this attack.

“Something’s not right,” Asha muttered, kneeling beside the mangled remains. She carefully reached for a clump of fur caught on a broken wagon wheel. “This doesn’t look like any natural beast. This is something… controlled.”

Darian crouched beside her, studying the scene with narrowed eyes. He didn’t speak for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. “These creatures—whatever they are—they’re changing. The claw marks are deeper, the bloodstains colder than what a normal beast would leave. It’s almost as if they’re… *crafted*.”

Asha’s fingers brushed the blood-slick fur, her pulse quickening. She knew exactly what he meant. This wasn’t just the work of random, wild animals. This was the result of an experiment gone wrong. “Controlled,” she whispered. The more she examined the scene, the more it fit her fears. These were no simple beasts. Whoever had created them had bound them in ways that defied nature. The Blood Pact had corrupted them—flesh and soul alike.

“Did you find any clues?” Asha asked, looking up at Darian.

His lips were set in a tight line. “Nothing concrete. Just scattered evidence, more like a trail than a full plan. But it leads in the direction of the Royal Archives. If this really is a project of theirs, they’d keep records.”

Asha stood up, brushing the snow off her knees. “Then we’re wasting time here,” she said, straightening. “If we’re going to find out what’s going on, we’ll need to go deeper. The Soulbone may be the key, but it’s tied to whatever madness the royal family has unleashed.”

“I agree.” Darian stood, his voice low. “But we have to be careful. The Archives are heavily guarded. I’ll need to use my rank to get us in.”

Asha met his gaze with suspicion, but there was little choice. If Darian’s knowledge of the city’s military was as extensive as he claimed, then they had a chance of slipping inside unnoticed. The Royal Archives were said to contain records of everything—secrets, the truth about the Blood Pact, and most likely, the final location of the Soulbone.

“Let’s go then,” Asha said, her voice firm.

They turned and made their way back through the winding streets of Snowridge, keeping to the shadows where they could. Darian led the way, his sharp eyes constantly scanning for any signs of danger. Asha kept her senses heightened, the faint pulse of Frostkin magic whispering from deep inside her. Every step brought her closer to the heart of the royal conspiracy—and to the terrible truth hidden beneath Snowridge’s cold streets.

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The Royal Archives were tucked away in the city’s oldest district, hidden beneath layers of snow and centuries-old stone. The towering structure looked like a fortress, its walls lined with towering iron gates and sentinels posted at every corner. As they approached the entrance, Asha could feel the weight of the place pressing down on her—this was where it all began. The corruption, the betrayal of her people. It was all here.

Darian walked ahead with purpose, his posture straight, eyes locked forward. He had become the mask of authority, someone who belonged. Asha felt the chill creep into her bones as they passed the guards without a second glance. His rank was enough to grant them entry, for now.

Inside, the Archive was a vast labyrinth of dusty shelves and ancient tomes. The air smelled of old paper and wax, a scent Asha had once found comforting but now found suffocating. The records here were fragments of history, pieces of a puzzle that had long since been forgotten. But the key to unraveling it all—Soulbone Imprint—was here somewhere.

Darian led her to a back corridor, where more private records were kept. His hand brushed over the control sigil on his arm, signaling to the guards that they had clearance. The walls were lined with thick wooden doors, each marked with the seals of the royal family.

“This way,” Darian said quietly, pushing open a heavy door. Inside was a small study, with shelves of scrolls and books arranged neatly along the walls. It smelled of stale ink and secrets.

Asha’s fingers itched to tear through the records, to find something—anything—that would lead her to the truth. “Where do we start?”

Darian was already opening a chest of records, his movements quick but careful. “We need to look for anything related to ‘Project Chimera.’ That’s the key to the Blood Pact.”

As Asha sifted through the papers on the desk, one document caught her eye. It was an old map of the city, but there was something new drawn in—an outline of a hidden outpost, far outside Snowridge. Her heart skipped. The place was marked as Greywatch Spire, a remote royal facility.

Asha’s breath caught in her throat. It was the same location referenced in the Blood Pact experiments. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

She turned to Darian, her voice tense. “Greywatch Spire. That’s where it all connects. We need to go there.”

Darian looked up from his own papers, his expression unreadable. “Greywatch,” he murmured. “I’ll get us there.”

Asha nodded, her heart pounding. This was it. The answers she sought, the truth about the Soulbone Imprint, and the legacy of her people—they were within her grasp. But getting there would mean crossing into enemy territory, and the dangers were only just beginning.

She stood, feeling the weight of her ancestors’ expectations upon her. The time for running was over. It was time to face the monsters—and the royalty—who had destroyed everything she once knew.