Two and a half weeks became two.
Two became ten days.
Ten days became a week and then the week compressed in the way time always does when what is at the end of it is large enough to pull everything toward it. Training sessions that had felt long started feeling short. Evenings in the small room off the great hall that had felt unhurried started ending too quickly. Even the mornings with Moss, which had always had their own contained quality separate from everything else, started carrying the weight of the countdown.
Seven days became five.
Five became three.
And then it was the night before.
Maren's final message had arrived four days earlier. Eleven words. The northern forces have crossed the outer marker. He is not waiting.
Rowan had called the full commander briefing immediately
