The Shadowed Peaks

  Legends speak of a realm where mortals dare to grasp the threads of eternity. Among these tales, none stirs more curiosity than the Order of the Emerald Horizon—a brotherhood of mystics dwelling deep within the Stormspire Mountains, guarding truths that defy the grasp of time.

  At dawn, a boy named Jacob Reed climbed the jagged slopes, his boots worn thin from weeks of travel. The icy wind bit through his threadbare cloak, but his grip tightened on the leather satchel slung across his shoulder. Beside him limped his grandfather, Elias, whose weathered hands trembled against his oak staff.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Grandfather," Jacob murmured, breath clouding in the frosty air, "what if they turn us away?"

  Elias paused, his gaze fixed on the mist-shrouded summit. "The Order shelters those bound by fate, boy. We’ve nowhere else to go."

  When they reached the gates—a colossal archway etched with glowing sigils—a hooded figure barred their path. The stranger’s voice cut like winter steel. "Name your purpose."

  Elias bowed low. "We seek sanctuary… and apprenticeship for the boy."

  The gatekeeper’s laugh was brittle. "Apprenticeship? The Order trains warriors, not peasants."

  As the words hung in the air, the ground quaked. A primal roar erupted from the mountain’s heart, shaking snow from the pines. Jacob staggered, his hand flying to the obsidian pendant hidden beneath his tunic. For a heartbeat, the stone flickered—a ghostly violet light that none but he could see.