The wheels slowed when the first sight of Greyhold came into view.

Arden sat straight, eyes narrowing at the gates where soldiers stopped wagons one after another.

Their voices carried across the air, sharper than before, and their hands searched through crates and packs with little patience.

"This wasn't how it was when we left," Nyra muttered, her gaze sweeping across the line of travelers waiting their turn.

Rael leaned on the wagon rail. "Looks like someone woke the guards. Must've been bad for them to care this much."

The soldiers stiffened as Arden's group approached.

Whispers moved quickly among them, the name of the man who had cut down hybrids and reclaimed the supply routes already carrying its weight. Their captain gave a short nod, stepping aside without the usual search.

"Let them through."

The gates opened, and Greyhold revealed itself.

Once, the town had been alive with color and trade, streets bustling with shouts from merchants and laughter from children chasing each other through alleys.

Now the difference was plain.

Arden's eyes swept across stalls that stood empty, shutters nailed over windows, and signs of businesses closed altogether.

Nyra sighed. "Half the market's gone."

"And those that are open barely have stock," Rael added, pointing at a man whose stall displayed a handful of dull crystals instead of the usual stacked rows.

Zephyra padded silently beside the wagon, her flame dim. "The air tastes thin. Less heat. Less life."

Arden's jaw tightened. He hadn't expected the damage to reach this deep.

The supply routes mattered, yes, but Greyhold looked like something more had gnawed at it. There were fewer guards on the inner streets, and the ones they did see looked restless, as though stretched too thin.

People kept their heads low, speaking in quick tones, eyes flicking toward alleys before hurrying off.

"This isn't just about supplies," Arden muttered. "They've been cut from the inside too."

They didn't linger in the streets. Instead, they moved straight to one of the better inns near the central square.

Arden paid for rooms without argument, his tone clipped.

Inside, the warmth of food and the clatter of cutlery gave the party a breath of normalcy.

For a while they simply ate, letting the weight of the road fall away. Rael cracked a grin as he downed a cup. "At least the ale hasn't changed."

Nyra smirked. "That's all you ever notice."

Even Zephyra gave a low rumble that might have been amusement. The banter rolled until the tension lightened, though Arden stayed quieter than usual.

His eyes drifted to the window, then back to his plate, he barely touched the food.

Finally, he pushed his chair back. "Stay here tonight. I'll be back soon."

Rael didn't bother asking. He just gave a lazy salute with his fork. "Go on then. We'll try not to burn the place down while you're gone."

Nyra only met his gaze, knowing well enough what weighed on him. "Don't take too long."

Arden gave the faintest smirk before stepping out into the night.

He didn't wander aimlessly.

His path was set the moment they entered Greyhold.

The town's alleys curled like veins, some still lit with lanterns, others swallowed in shadow. Arden's boots echoed softly as he cut through the quieter paths, heading toward a cluster of houses on the edge of the market.

He found them where he expected, the two creed members he had spared before. Their presence was subtle, but not enough to slip past him.

They stood near a boarded shop, talking low, until his shadow fell across them.

One turned, and the blood drained from his face.

"Y-you—"

"Hey," Arden said, voice calm, smirk curling at the corner. "Remember me?"

Both men stiffened. They had expected him eventually, but seeing him now, alive and whole, sent a shiver down their spines.

The memory of how easily he had beaten them the first time lingered. Their eyes darted to the ground, shoulders dipping.

Arden stepped closer, boots crunching against the dirt. "Don't waste time with greetings. I'm not here for that. I want to know what your people are doing in this town."

One of them swallowed hard. "We… we don't know much. Orders come down in pieces."

Arden's smirk faded into a flat stare. "Try again."

The second spoke quickly, fear leaking into his words. "New members have been brought in. Smuggled through the gates by others planted here already.

We were told to stay quiet until orders came, but they've started… moving. Sabotage, mostly. Stalls burned. Merchants harassed. Goods stolen before they reach the market."

Arden's eyes narrowed. "They're trying to choke Greyhold."

The first nodded, sweat beading at his brow. "The town grew because of the merchants. If they pull out, everything collapses."

"And you?" Arden asked, gaze sharp. "Still loyal to the creed?"

Neither answered at first. Their silence said enough. Fear held them between two blades, the creed that would kill them for betrayal, and Arden who stood right in front of them.

He leaned in just enough for his voice to cut like steel. "You live tonight because you're useful. That doesn't make you safe. Understand?"

Both men bowed their heads quickly. "Y-yes."

"Good." Arden straightened. "When I need you, I'll find you. Until then, stay alive. But if you think about crossing me—" His smirk returned, cold and cruel. "—you already know how that ends."

The two men shivered, nodding furiously.

And just like that, Arden was gone. One step into the shadows, and he melted from their sight, leaving only the weight of his presence behind.

By the time he returned to the inn, the noise inside had softened.

His party was still awake, laughter carrying faintly up the stairs. Arden paused at the door for a breath, the weight of what he'd learned pressing against the back of his mind.

The creed wasn't just meddling anymore, they were carving into Greyhold's heart.

And whatever came next, he'd better be ready.

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