Corvin had seen the Door shine twice now.
The first time, he had been on the other side of it. He had walked out of that light into a field of gray grass with eleven thousand of his people behind him. Nobody had been waiting for them.
The second time, he had been standing at its foot with Big D beside him. He had watched Emberfall walk out into a ring of frosted stones and a fire that somebody had kept burning.
This was the third time. And this time, it was wrong.
The light came down the Door from somewhere far above, the way it always did. But it was not the color nobody had a name for. It was black. It was not dark, the way night was dark. It was black the way a hole is black, and it poured down the great Door like ink running down a wall.
Behind him, eleven thousand people of Frosthold had come out of their houses to watch. Nobody spoke.
"John," Corvin said, without turning his head.
