Invitations are usually loud.
They arrive wrapped in urgency, framed as opportunity or crisis, designed to pull people toward a decision before they have time to examine the cost. This one does neither.
It arrives quietly.
The messenger waits at the edge of the city instead of entering it.
That detail matters.
He stands beyond the boundary stones, hands visible, posture open, not performing submission but signaling restraint. He does not shout. He does not demand an audience. He simply waits.
The city notices.
Of course it does.
Kael hears about the messenger before he sees him. A runner explains it plainly.
“He says he has an invitation. Not a summons. And he says he’ll leave at dusk if no one answers.”
No threat.
No leverage.
No pressure.
The shadow coils, curious.
Those wh
