Night settled heavily over Ravenswatch.
The fortress had fallen into silence, but sleep refused to visit its halls.
Snow continued to fall beyond the narrow windows, covering the mountains in an endless sea of white. Somewhere in the darkness, ravens called to one another, their cries carried by the bitter wind.
Inside the royal infirmary, Alistair sat on the edge of his bed.
His breathing had steadied since the collapse in the training yard, but the weakness remained.
Physician Corwin had forbidden him from lifting a sword for at least a week.
“You’ve strained your body beyond its limits,” the old physician had scolded.
Alistair’s answer had been simple.
“The kingdom doesn’t wait for healthy kings.”
Corwin had sighed.
“Neither does death.”
Those words had stayed with him.
⸻
A
