The smell of sulfur hung in the air. A faint, slightly acrid scent that tickled the back of the nose. Lira knew it was the mark of a hot spring. The geothermal heat of the Frostfang Mountains warmed the underground water veins, and the water rose to the surface carrying traces of soul veins—the pathways of life force that flowed through all living things. This was Hilde's hot spring. Lira walked slowly down the narrow stone-paved path. The village was small. One hundred sixty kilometers north-northeast of the royal capital Elzevir, nestled in a valley at the southern foot of the Frostfang Mountains. The population was barely three hundred. Wooden houses lined both sides of the path, and bundles of dried medicinal herbs hung from the eaves. The orange light of dusk stretched diagonally across the stone pavement, and smoke from someone's chimney rose straight into the air, carrying the scent of evening meals. The village lay outside the invasion route of the Ash Pilgrimage Brigade. T