The mountains greeted the dawn in silence.
Fresh snow covered the winding roads leading east, erasing yesterday’s tracks as though the land itself wished to hide its secrets.
The royal expedition had barely broken camp when a rider emerged from the mist.
His horse stumbled from exhaustion.
Its flanks were covered in foam.
The rider nearly fell from the saddle before General Corvin caught him.
“My lord…” the scout gasped.
“Stonebrook…”
He struggled to breathe.
“They’re under attack.”
General Corvin’s face hardened.
“Who?”
“We… we couldn’t see.”
“They came before sunrise.”
“They burned the watchtowers.”
“They’re still there.”
Alistair immediately turned to the expedition.
“Ride.”
No one questioned the command.
⸻
Stonebrook was a small frontier village nestled between two
