Emily Rosewood’s Point of View.
The Frostpine Exiles’ Stronghold and the Northern Watchpoint, nine weeks and twelve days after the gate closed
The outcasts’ stronghold was nothing like I had imagined.
No iron gates. No fortress carved into a mountain. Just a half-buried labyrinth of ancient tunnels beneath the hilltop, laced with moss and bone, bound together with sigils so old the Hollow’s lore had forgotten they ever existed.
We passed beneath crumbled archways and torch-lit paths, the air growing colder with every step. The silver-eyed woman who had welcomed us walked ahead, her stride sure despite the dark.
“Who are you?” I asked at last, after we had descended a staircase that spiraled down into stone and shadow.
She turned slightly, a flicker of wry amusement in her voice. “Nam
