The storm broke fully before dawn.
Rain hammered the Hollow’s rooftops in relentless sheets, running down the cobblestones in twisting streams that carried away the last traces of ash from the Regent’s pyre. The gray sky pressed low over the city, turning morning into a darker shade of night.
Kael stood beneath the arch of the keep’s main gate, his cloak soaked and heavy, though he made no move to shield himself from the weather. The wind tugged at his dark hair, plastering strands to his face. His crimson eyes scanned the mist-choked road that led beyond the northern hills, as if he expected to see an army step from the fog at any moment.
Behind him, the gates groaned under the hands of men reinforcing them with iron braces scavenged from the Regent’s armory. The smell of wet timber an
