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Then the raven came.
Pug didn’t answer. Instead, he began walking back toward the distant torchlight of the patrol’s camp.
“I don’t need to unmake it,” he said. “I only need to move it. One step left .”
Varek tilted his head. “Impressive for an untrained hedge-witch. But you are not strong enough to unmake what was built before your grandfathers’ grandfathers drew breath.” raymond e feist vk
I notice you’re asking for a piece “in the style of Raymond E. Feist” combined with “vk” — which might refer to VK (the social network, or possibly a character/initials). Since I can’t reproduce copyrighted text directly from Feist’s Riftwar or other novels, I can write an in the style of Feist’s epic fantasy (dense with medieval-tinged dialogue, sudden magical intrusion, and the clash between mundane soldiering and otherworldly forces). I’ll assume “vk” stands for a mage character named Varek or a place like Vak’Kesh .
Tomas glanced sideways at his friend. The boy he’d grown up with in Crydee had changed. There was a stillness now behind Pug’s eyes, like the surface of a deep well. The magician’s hands, bare despite the cold, rested on the pommel of no sword. He carried no blade.
The road ahead was gone. In its place stood a tower of black stone, smooth as polished glass, rising without seam or door. At its base knelt a figure in grey robes, face hidden. Then the raven came
“The King’s road,” the grey figure repeated, savoring each word. “There has been no King here for a thousand years. You are standing in the ruins of Ithrak’s Fall. The ravens are not birds. They are the unburied dead.”
The tower flickered. For one heartbeat, it was gone. Tomas saw only open moor, grey sky, the distant smudge of the forest near Crydee.
The Duke’s patrol had been meant to ride only as far as the ford at Stone Creek. But the fog that rose from the creek did not lift. Instead, it thickened. And the horses began to shy. “I don’t need to unmake it,” he said
“I put him one step out of phase with this reality,” Pug said. “He’s still there. We just can’t see him anymore.”
“Orders,” Tomas said, though even he didn’t believe that was answer enough.
“I am Varek, last Keeper of the Silent Path. You have walked three days into a winter that does not exist. Turn back, sons of the West, or learn what waits when the rift does not close.”
“You’re blocking the King’s road,” Pug said quietly. “Move aside.”
Pug looked at his hands. The blue light was gone. So was most of the color in his face.
