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The citadel loomed against the late morning sky as the patrol clattered through its gates. The towers rose sheer and cold, their banners heavy with dew. Emil felt the cobblestones shiver under his horse’s hooves, as though even the stone was eager to be free of the woods behind them. The drawbridge groaned shut, chains rattling. With it came the illusion of safety, but Emil could not shake the weight pressing against his ribs. The forest had followed them, he was sure of it. Its silence still clung to him, damp and heavy, as though the mist had seeped into his lungs and refused to leave. They rode into the courtyard. Servants and squires rushed forward to take reins, to gather saddlebags, to strip armor for repair. The veterans dismounted with practiced ease. The apprentices stumbled sti
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