The night air was sharp, the sky still black. Torches burned, soldiers kept their posts. The castle did not sleep.
Liam stood in the courtyard, eyes scanning the walls. Damian was beside him, hands clasped behind his back.
“You feel it too,” Liam muttered.
Damian nodded. “Something waits.”
The horns blasted from the outer gate. Soldiers jolted, hands flying to weapons.
Liam drew his blade, voice loud. “Open the way! Let me see what dares knock at my doors.”
The gate creaked. Guards pointed, whispering.
A man stood alone in the mist. Tall, his face calm as though he waited for an invitation.
“Closer,” Liam barked.
The man stepped forward slowly, boots barely making a sound. His hair hung dark and wet, his eyes gleamed like embers.
“You,” Damian growled, stepping ahead. “Ashbane.”
