Morning descended upon Ravenswatch beneath a blanket of silver mist.
The ancient fortress, carved into the Frostfang Mountains centuries before the Kingdom of Mournvale had ever existed, awakened not with celebration, but with solemn duty. Bells rang once across the tower, signaling the gathering of the Royal Council.
Inside the King’s chamber, Sir Roland fastened the silver clasp of Alistair’s cloak.
“You don’t have to prove anything today,” the old knight said quietly.
Alistair adjusted the leather gloves hiding the lingering tremor in his hands.
“They’ll mistake caution for weakness.”
“And if they do?”
“They already have.”
A cough escaped him.
He turned away quickly, covering his mouth.
When he lowered his hand, there was no blood this time.
Only exhaustion.
Evadne noticed t
