Virell hadn’t changed in ten years.
The stone gates were still cracked from the last skirmish with the eastern raiders. The watchtower still leaned two degrees to the left.
The smell of tanned leather, bread, and horse dung still hung thick in the air the moment you got within fifty yards.
It felt wrong to see it so normal. Like the world below should have come spilling up and shattered it all.
“Still ugly,” Kieran muttered, shouldering his pack. “Some things never change, thank the gods.”
Darian didn’t answer. His eyes were on the guards at the gate. Two men, both young, both staring at them like they’d seen ghosts. Which, fair. Aria had been declared dead five years ago.
“Stop walking like you’re about to fight them,” Aria said quietly. She kept her voice low, for him only. T
