The dawn after Gale's Landing's festival found Zephyr Ardent's party gathered at the head of the Silver Road, where the cobbled causeway snaked north toward Westmark Crossing. Morning mist curled around ancient mileposts inscribed with wolf-fangs and crescent moons—marks of the Silverfang Pack's ancestral domain.
Zephyr stood atop his mount, primer scroll safely stowed, amber eyes sweeping the low hills beyond. Beside him, Rook adjusted her warded cloak; Rennan checked his blade; Elara and Alaric consulted maps while Corin reviewed holodata on his wrist projector. Hybrid scouts—led by Reyna and Sera—formed protective ranks at the flanks.
Zephyr gave the order: "Today, we bring the Accord to the farmers and traders of Westmark. Their crossing unites north and south; it must now unite our healing—and our hope."
The column moved out under a pale sky, the click of hooves and the hiss of warded lanterns creating a cloak of purpose along the winding road.
They covered twenty leagues by midday, crossing rolling pastures where sheep grazed beneath sentinel windmills. Hybrid scouts quietly mounted ward crystals at every crossroads; Covenant resonators hummed from saddlebags, and Court scribes tagged each installation with reflective runes.
Corin rode up to Zephyr. "Field reports show increased illness among the crossing's tollkeepers—fever and lacerations from poor tools."
Elara nodded. "Their wounds fester without care. We'll open a clinic at the Old Inn."
Zephyr smiled. "Then we ride on."
As the sun dipped low, the road curved around a rocky outcrop known as Gallow's Bend. Here, broken gallows once brandished traitors' corpses. Now, bandits loyal to the Shadow Conclave lay in wait—drawn by rumors of Healing Accord supplies.
Rook spied movement among the stones. "Bandits—ten of them, armed with harpoons and powder charges!"
Zephyr raised his gauntlet. "Hold position. Let them reveal themselves."
A hail of stones and crude bolts rained upon the cutter. Hybrid scouts activated warded shields; Rennan and Rook charged to protect the supply wagons. Zephyr leapt from his mount, Night's Razor edge igniting, and cleaved a bolt in half.
In the ensuing skirmish, hybrid scouts used Feral Sprint to flank the ambushers while Rook's Howl of Dominion sent three bandits cowering behind a boulder. Elara cast reflective wards that turned the bandits' own powder grenades into harmless sparks. Rennan disarmed the last bandit with a Savage Claw strike, leaving him sprawling but alive.
When the dust settled, the would-be raiders lay bound in warded manacles. Zephyr addressed them: "You threaten the Accord, but we offer mercy to those who yield. Tell me who sent you."
The bandit captain spat blood. "We serve the Conclave—sent to disrupt your clinics."
Zephyr's expression hardened. "The Shadow Conclave will learn that healing cannot be silenced." He turned to the hybrid scouts. "Escort them to the Hold for trial."
By twilight, they reached Westmark Crossing's Old Inn—a stout stone building flanked by wooden tollhouses. Inside, Tollkeeper Breen lay feverish on a cot; his apprentice daughter clutched his hand, tears in her eyes.
Alaric knelt beside the old man. "Let me see your wound." He lifted a blood-slick cloth from Breen's arm: a deep gash festering with infection.
Elara and Corin prepared a purification draught while Zephyr assessed the primer scroll's Binding Glyph primer. He placed a drop of Breen's blood into moon-fern solution and recited the incantation. The warded waters glowed pale silver. Alaric applied the serum; within moments, Breen's fever broke, and the gash sealed in glistening rune-patterns.
Breen blinked, voice hoarse. "I… I feel strength."
His daughter wept with relief. Rei, the apprentice, bowed deeply. Zephyr offered a gentle smile. "The Accord's promise—to care for every life, no matter the cost."
Over the next morning, Rook and the hybrid scouts cleared a wing of the inn for clinic use. Ward crystals were embedded in windowsills; reflection wards painted at each door. Corin and Elara taught Rei and two local volunteers the art of Lunar Transmutation—how to brew warded salts for disinfecting linens and water.
Alaric set out vials of Vitae Stabilizer and Symbiotic Matrix, demonstrating dosage protocols. The inn's common room became a triage center: weary travelers tended at every cot. Hybrid scouts installed node detectors—salvaged from decommissioned units—to ensure no corrupt energy passed through the crossing.
Rennan trained a militia of farmers and ferrymen in basic ward defense and breach drills, forging a local guard to protect the clinic.
By dusk, the Westmark Crossing Clinic stood ready—white lamps glowing against the stone facade, warded lanterns lining the path, and the primer scroll displayed within.
That evening, Zephyr convened a conclave in the inn's great hall: local leaders, Westmark militia, Covenant healers, and hybrid scouts filled long benches. At the head sat Zephyr, Elara, Alaric, and Corin.
He cleared his throat. "Friends of the Crossing, you have seen the Accord's healing. Now, we ask you to bind yourselves to our Circle of Watchers—guard the clinic, maintain the wards, and call upon the Accord when needed."
The ferrymaster, a burly woman scarred by river roils, rose. "I pledge my docks and my ferries as safe passage for healers."
A farmer with calloused hands offered: "My fields will grow moon-fern for your salves."
Rei, the apprentice, stood next. "I will learn every rune—so no wound goes untended."
One by one, they placed their hands upon the primer scroll's embossed Binding Rune, sealing each vow in silver glyph-light.
System Notification: "Circle of Crossing Watchers formed."
As lanterns flickered in the storm-cleansed air, Zephyr lingered on the quay with Rook. The river's mist rose around them; the ward crystals pulsed softly.
Rook sheathed her blade. "Westmark stands with us now—five clinics, five circles of watch. The Accord's web extends farther than I dared dream."
Zephyr nodded, amber eyes alight. "And beyond Westmark—Emberfall, and the Scarlet River's winding valley. Each link we forge, each life we save, will strengthen this world's future."
Elara joined them, a vial of moon-fern elixir in her palm. "Drink, Bloodwolf. This blend will harmonize your wards with the river's current—help guide the Accord downstream."
He lifted the vial and drank, feeling warmth flood his veins. "Then let us ride the Scarlet River at first light—where Emberfall awaits our arrival."
Above, the first stars pierced the eastward clouds—harbingers of a journey yet to come, and of unity's promise carried on every tide.