The doors of the Vale packhouse opened just before dusk.
The guards stepped aside without question as the tall man crossed the threshold.
Lord Valcor had arrived.
His cloak still carried the dust of the southern roads, but his posture was as composed as ever. Nothing in his expression suggested fatigue or surprise.
Only calculation.
The servants who passed him in the hall instinctively lowered their heads. Even the Vale guards watched him carefully as he moved through the corridors like someone who already belonged there.
He had received the news two days earlier.
Nythera had risen.
Valcor had been expelled.
The land itself had turned.
He had not believed the first report.
Nor the second.
But the third messenger had arrived with the same story.
The forest had grown into a wall
