Chapter 67: Road to Blackthorn
Morning light spilled through the tall windows of Ashmoor’s main hall.
Malrik walked in to find Ronan already there, flanked by the same six warriors from yesterday’s fight. They stood loosely gathered, the kind of easy formation that came from people who’d bled together more times than they’d bothered to count.
Ronan spotted him first and grinned. "There he is. Everyone — this is Malrik. The man who made an Archbishop look foolish in under a minute."
Six pairs of eyes turned toward him with open curiosity.
Ronan gestured to the broad-shouldered man with the heavy shield. "Torvin. My second. We grew up together. His entire job is stopping me from doing something stupid."
"It’s more of a career at this point," Torvin said.
"He’s not wrong."
Malrik studied him a moment longer than the others. The man’s mana sat differently than the rest — denser, more settled, carrying the weight of someone who’d already crossed a threshold most hadn’t.
Ascendant. He’s already chosen and understood his Law Seed.
He filed the observation away and let Ronan continue.
Next was a lean woman with dark hair tied back, a bow resting against her shoulder like it had grown there. "Mara. Best shot in the Marquisate. Hit a Morveth from three hundred meters once. At night."
Mara shrugged. "Wind was with me."
"Wind had nothing to do with it. You’re just that good."
"Also true."
A younger man with restless energy and a wand tucked into his belt got a nod next. "Corin. Our mage. Awakened about a year now. Still finding his footing, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm."
"I prefer ’creative chaos,’" Corin said.
"Same thing."
The largest of the group stood a head above the rest, a maul strapped across his back like it weighed nothing. "Garrick. Hits things. Hard. He picked a High-tier Law Seed, so it’s taking him longer to fully grasp it — but once it clicks, he’ll be a problem for anyone standing in front of him."
Garrick grunted. "I’m already a problem."
"A friendly one."
"The best kind."
A wiry man with sharp eyes and twin short swords stood slightly apart from the group. "Lian. Scout. Fast, quiet, deliberately taking his time comprehending more than one Law before he commits to anything."
"Quality over speed," Lian said simply.
"And modesty?"
"Working on it."
Last was a woman with sun-bleached hair and an old scar across her nose, longsword resting easy in her grip. "Seren. Sharpest blade in the group. She could disarm me blindfolded."
"I could," Seren said.
"I know."
"Good."
Malrik took a moment to look each of them over properly.
All Awakened, except Torvin. And the rest aren’t slow because they’re weak — they’re holding back on purpose. Choosing harder Laws instead of rushing rank.
He remembered what Lily had told him once about Law Seeds — the steeper the difficulty, the greater the eventual payoff. A shallow Law could be mastered in months and offer little beyond what its name implied. A deep one might take years to fully comprehend, but the strength it granted at the end could reshape what a person was capable of entirely.
They’re not cautious. They’re ambitious. There’s a difference, and most people never learn it.
They assembled at the gate within the hour. Colin already had the carriage ready, reins in hand.
"Whenever you’re ready, my lord," he called down.
Malrik nodded and turned his attention to the horses.
Ronan’s mount was a massive black stallion, coat gleaming like polished stone. "This is Thunder. Fastest horse north of the capital. Stubborn, but he’s earned the right."
He glanced at Malrik. "Need a mount? Silver’s gentle — good for a first ride."
"I have something better."
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Better than a horse?"
Dark mana rippled from Malrik’s palm, pooling across the ground like liquid shadow. The temperature dropped, and Fenrir stepped out of the darkness.
The wolf had changed since the trial — larger now, easily the size of a small horse, coat drinking in the morning light rather than reflecting it. His emerald eyes burned steady, and even Thunder took a nervous step backward.
Ronan’s jaw actually dropped. "What in the—"
Malrik swung onto Fenrir’s back without ceremony. The wolf didn’t shift or protest, simply adjusting his stance as though the weight had always belonged there.
"You could’ve mentioned the shadow wolf earlier," Ronan muttered. "I’d have left Thunder home and asked for a lift myself."
Thunder turned his head slowly and fixed Ronan with a look of pure betrayal, ears flattening.
Ronan blinked. "...Did he just understand that?"
"He understood," Mara said dryly. "And now he’s insulted."
"He’s not insulted, he’s just—"
Thunder stamped a hoof and turned his back with deliberate dignity.
"He’s insulted," Garrick confirmed.
Ronan sighed. "Fine. Apologies, you overgrown, opinionated beast. Still the best horse north of the capital."
Thunder’s ear twitched but didn’t turn back.
Malrik fought down a smile.
Lily stepped up beside them, eyeing Fenrir with theatrical disdain. "I will not be riding that unfortunate-looking creature."
"Fenrir’s not unfortunate-looking."
"To you, perhaps." She flipped her hair and turned toward the carriage. "I’ll take the carriage. My complexion doesn’t deserve this much sun."
She climbed in with the bearing of visiting royalty. Eliza followed quietly behind her.
Ronan watched, grinning. "Your friend has opinions."
"Friend," Malrik repeated, flat. "Sure."
They set off.
An hour into the ride, Lian raised a hand and the column halted instantly.
He crouched, fingers brushing the dirt, reading something only he could sense. "Pack ahead. Three hundred meters. Twenty of them. Awakened-Rank."
Ronan’s grin sharpened. "Finally, something worth the trip."
Malrik dismounted. "Let me handle this one."
"Alone?"
"I need to test something."
Dark mana poured from his palm, thicker than before, spreading further than it used to. The wolves emerged first — visibly larger, their shadow-coats denser, muscle moving with a controlled power that hadn’t been there yesterday. The spiders dropped from the treeline behind them, obsidian shells now faintly pulsing with veins of green light, falling into flanking formation without a single command needed.
Ronan’s jaw dropped. "That’s not the same pack from yesterday."
"No," Malrik said. "It isn’t."
"Finish them."
The wolves crossed the distance in a blur — faster than a full-grown horse at a sprint — each one breaking toward a separate target before the pack even registered the threat. The first Morveth went down before it could turn around.
The spiders followed a heartbeat later, and where their webbing used to just tangle a target, it now caught and held instantly, venom working through the strands the moment they touched skin. One Morveth broke for open ground, desperate to outrun the ambush, and didn’t make it three steps before a spider dropped directly into its path and ended it without slowing down.
A wolf took a claw across the shoulder mid-strike, barely seemed to register the wound, and dragged its target down anyway before finishing it with a second bite.
It was over in under a minute.
A notification flickered in front of Malrik’s eyes.
Level Up.
He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
Corin stared at the clearing, at the bodies that had barely had time to fall before it was already finished. "...What exactly are you?"
"Something like a summoner."
"A summoner did that?"
"Something like one."
Ronan walked over, still visibly shaken. "Yesterday they were fast. That wasn’t fast. I don’t even know what that was."
"They advanced," Malrik said simply. "Same as I did."
"How many can you actually summon?"
Malrik’s smile didn’t move. "Not that many."
Deliberately vague. Mara’s eyebrow rose, but she said nothing further.
They rode on.
Somewhere in the quiet that followed, Malrik felt the bond shift — the connection between himself and Lily pulsing with a new weight, heavier and warmer than it had been that morning.
[Lily.]
[You felt it, then.]
[What happened?]
[When you advanced to Awakened, one of my seals broke.] Her voice carried a note of quiet satisfaction. [I’m Ascendant now.]
His grip on Fenrir’s fur tightened involuntarily.
[Ascendant. Already?]
[Soul Contract lets me sit exactly one rank above you. You’re Awakened. So I’m Ascendant.]
He turned the implications over for a moment before another question surfaced.
[Can you use a Law now?]
[Obviously.]
[Which one?]
A pause, then her voice returned, dripping with amusement.
[That’s a secret, my lord.]
[I could just read it off your status.]
[You could. But that would ruin all the fun.] A soft laugh drifted through the bond. [Patience. You’ll see soon enough.]
He shook his head but didn’t push further.
Ronan noticed the shift in his expression. "Something wrong?"
"No." Malrik allowed a small smile. "Something’s right, actually."
The road wound on through low hills, the afternoon stretching thin and golden.
Ronan gestured toward the horizon. "Redmont’s about as peaceful as territory gets. Mountains east, Ashmoor south, Blackthorn north — boxed in on every side. That’s why the roads here stay quiet."
"And Blackthorn?" Malrik asked.
Ronan’s expression sobered. "Different story entirely. It’s the front line. Kael’s holding it — his father got called off to the northern border, so the whole barony’s defense fell on him. There’s a Morveth surge coming, maybe a week out. He’s asked for every hand he can get before it lands."
Malrik was quiet for a moment. "Can you hold it?"
Ronan laughed, but there was no real humor in it. "Honestly? Not with what we’ve got right now."
"Then why go?"
"Because the Duke’s sending reinforcements." Ronan’s grin came back, sharper this time. "And I know exactly how competent he is. If anyone turns this around, it’s him."
Malrik said nothing, though something like amusement flickered behind his eyes.
Ronan caught it. "What?"
"Nothing." He waved it off. "Just thinking."
They reached Redmont as the sun began its slow descent — modest walls, well-kept streets, guards who recognized Ronan on sight and waved the column through without a second glance. The town felt like a held breath compared to everywhere else they’d passed through: clean, unhurried, untouched by the tension bleeding through the rest of the region.
"We rest here tonight," Ronan said. "Blackthorn at dawn."
"One night," Malrik agreed. "Then we move."
By the time they settled into the local inn, the Ashmoor warriors had already scattered across the common room — Corin arguing with Garrick over something that didn’t matter, Mara claiming a corner table with her bow never leaving arm’s reach, Torvin quietly nursing a drink near the fire with the patient stillness of someone who’d seen a hundred nights just like this one.
Malrik sat across from Ronan, who studied him for a long moment with an odd look in his eye.
"You’re a strange man, Malrik. Full of things you’re not saying."
Malrik shrugged. "Keeps life interesting."
Ronan laughed and raised his cup. "To interesting lives, then."
Malrik lifted his own cup and let it meet Ronan’s with a quiet clink.
"To interesting lives."