6
Petron could feel the changing seasons on the tips of his fingers, an icy kiss of winter just starting to slide down the northern mountains. He stood right at the edge of the opening to his chamber, high in what was formerly the Black Robes’ tower in Redmondis, leaning out into the wind that rushed up the cliff face like ocean surf crashing against rock. A distant smile played over his lips as he wiggled his fingers, eyes closed, mind elsewhere in the wash and rush of flight.
A high cry in the distance snapped his eyes open, and a single black shape formed in the sky, growing larger with every wingbeat, until he had to step back from the edge to allow the great eagle space to land.
‘Good morning, Stax.’
The eagle tilted its head, watching him with one bright staring eye as it fussily
