Kael
Vaeloria is lost to slumber. I can taste the magic on my tongue–a heady, metallic sheen I can’t swallow down. Villagers slump against barrels and crates, snoozing peacefully, their bodies damp with the rain that passed through sometime yesterday.
Thank the old gods it’s summer. They would have frozen solid last night otherwise.
Even the children lie in heaps of homespun fabric as I move through the outer villages. The shutters and doors of the humble cottages I pass on my way to the castle clap against their stone walls, left open, unlocked.
The air is still, and the silence is overwhelming, especially when I pass a group of chickens in the center of a dirt road, the entire flock asleep with their heads tucked under their wings.
Warriors slump against the wall surrounding the
