Valerian Ashcroft's Arc

Chapter 1 of 11

Valerian traced the edge of Morrigan's unopened letter for the hundredth time today, standing at the edge of Needlefall Forest where her blood-stained tracks had ended six months ago. The wolf fang hung heavy against his chest, cold and dark between full moons. He needed to find her—the copper-haired barbarian who'd saved his life in an alley and beaten him at swordplay three times out of five. Twenty-three men dead defending her, and she'd vanished anyway. The trees ahead whispered promises about thin boundaries between worlds, the same boundaries that had left claw marks across his ribs when he'd tried crossing before. His coin purse grew lighter each week, bribing away his family's assassins. Soon he'd have nothing left but the letter, the fang, and the barbarian lullabies he sang every night to keep her memory sharp. The crooked-beaked raven had seen copper hair deeper in these woods. That would have to be enough. He pushed through the tree line, following paths that felt wrong in his gut. Three hours in, the forest opened to reveal stone walls thick with moss. The fortress stood silent, its wooden gates hanging crooked on rusted hinges. Perfect. He'd need somewhere to sleep between searches, somewhere to store what little food remained. The claw marks on his ribs ached as he stepped through the gate. The courtyard held nothing but dead leaves and shadows. He dropped his pack against the wall and pulled out the letter. Not yet. Not until he found something real. The raven had said copper hair, deeper in. Tomorrow he'd search the eastern paths. Tonight he'd sing the lullabies and count her freckles in his memory. Forty-seven. Nine scars. Eyes that shifted green when she lied. He tucked the letter back inside his coat and closed his eyes. Morning came cold and grey. Valerian spent an hour packing the leather haversack with what little he had left—dried meat, rope, bandages, the wolf fang on its chain. The bag's metal buckles clicked as he tightened the straps. He'd searched Needlefall's edges for six months, but now he'd go deeper. The fortress would serve as his base. He could return here, rest, then push further each day. The boundaries between worlds waited somewhere in those trees. Morrigan had crossed them somehow, willingly or not. He shouldered the pack and walked back through the crooked gates. The forest swallowed him within minutes. His instincts pulled him forward, past twisted roots and trees that grew too close together. Every copper leaf made his heart jump. Every shadow could hide her. The search would take everything he had left, but that was fine. He'd already lost everything that mattered. By midday, he found the stones. They stood in a perfect circle, taller than a man, covered in runes that shimmered blue-green in the filtered light. His breath caught. Places like this held answers—or dangers. The boundaries grew thin near stones like these. He walked between two of them, feeling the air change against his skin. The runes pulsed brighter. He knelt in the center and pressed his palm to the ground. "Where is she?" The stones offered nothing but silence. He stood and traced one of the runes with his finger. The mark burned cold. He pulled back, flexing his hand. This place knew something. He'd come back tomorrow with offerings, with questions prepared. The raven had been right about the copper hair being deeper in. Maybe it was right about other things too. Valerian turned and walked back through the circle, leaving the stones behind. The fortress waited, and he had lullabies to sing.