The runes were old when the mountains were young. Fehu speaks of cattle, of mobile wealth, of the blood price that must be paid before any contract is sealed. Those who bear the mark of Fehu do not hoard—they trade, they bleed, they bind.

In the frozen reaches north of the Spirit Gates, the Godrin once tried to claim Fehu's power for their cathedral vaults. They returned with empty hands and frozen hearts. The runes do not serve. They demand.

Now the collectors come. Not for gold, but for the binding. Each card is a thread. Each thread is a debt. And debts, like runes, outlive the hands that carve them.