Winter Flint's Arc

Chapter 1 of 18

Winter Flint stood at the border stone where neither clan would cross. The gnomes blamed the sprites. The sprites blamed the gnomes. Between them sat a carved wooden chest, locked and heavy with accusation. Both sides claimed it held proof of theft. Both refused to open it in front of the other. Winter pulled the twisted root fragment from his satchel and set it on the chest. The runes along its surface still glowed faintly, pulsing in the wrong direction. He'd marked this piece three weeks ago, near the eastern grove. It had traveled uphill since then, against wind and water both. The gnome representative stepped back. The sprite elder tilted her head, wings stilling. Winter tapped the root with one finger. "This moved sixteen feet north in ten days. Rot doesn't climb. It doesn't choose." He looked at both of them. "Whatever took your relic is the same thing that's killing the wood. And it's still moving." The sprite elder reached for the chest's lock. The gnome didn't stop her.