The heavy thud of boots against the porch planks resonated through the thick, salt-dusted air of the northern coast, signaling the return of the Vanguard.
Outside the lodge, the late afternoon sun hung low and bruised, casting long, jagged shadows across the stone entryway where Liam stood with Marcus.
They were both caked in the grit of the road, their leather gear creaking with every weary movement, but Liam’s attention was far from the debriefing.
His sapphire eyes kept drifting, restless and dark, toward the narrow windows of the upper floor—the house he now lived in but no longer called home.
“The border’s quiet for now, Liam,” Marcus said, his voice low and gravelly, though he noticed his commander’s eyes were miles away.
“But we need to double the watch at the pass before the
