Corvik Greyfox was working with a group studying Fey magic when the letter arrived from Bazagon.

It was from his parents. The message was brief, but it carried weight, Miron had not been in contact for a long time. No word. No sign. Nothing where there should have been something. They were asking Corvik to find him.

At first, he dismissed it as a distraction. The work before him demanded absolute focus, and Corvik had never been the kind of man to let sentiment pull him off course. But Miron’s name did not fade the way other concerns did. It lingered .... quiet, persistent.

He read the letter again in the shifting glow of the campfire, the world around him dimming as his thoughts sharpened. His parents did not ask lightly. In truth, they rarely asked him for anything at all.

Corvik folded the letter with deliberate care and set it aside, his gaze fixed on the dying light along the horizon.

A brother gone missing and a feeling he could not ignore.