The horns of Yainna wailed like dying beasts, echoing through the marble bones of the castle.The knights were already at the gates — armor clattering, banners shaking in the night wind — but Thalia Drale was not among them.
Her first thought was not of her father.Not of the crown.Not of the kingdom's survival.
It was of William.
The moment his name formed in her mind, it struck her like a blow to the chest. She didn't question it — she didn't have time to — only knew that his safety had burrowed deep into her, as if her own life were tied to it.
Her armor was half-fastened, buckles drawn hastily, red hair still loose and wild as she seized her sword from its stand. The steel was cold, and her fingers trembled — not from fear, but from urgency.
Boots hammered against the stone floors as she tore through the corridors.The sound of her breath was almost drowned out by the distant shouts of men, the deep clang of the gate chains, and somewhere far off — a terrible, low hum. A sound that didn't belong to wind or steel.
Her steps faltered. A thought clawed at her.William.Now.Now.
She turned, abandoning the path toward the gates, and bolted down the opposite hall.
(Elsewhere, across the city…)
The boy — the one Thalia had met in training long ago, before he vanished — sat in the cramped shadows of a small home, its wooden walls thin enough to let the noise of the city bleed through. He was not of noble blood. His clothes were simple. The only other soul in the home was an elderly man seated in a high-backed chair near the fire, sightless eyes staring at nothing.
The horns split the night again. This time, the shouts followed — frantic, desperate.Men's voices barked orders in the streets.
The boy rose to look through the shutters. Guards in black-and-gold were rushing toward the gates, but they weren't alone — they were forcing doors open, dragging men from their homes. Sons. Fathers. Boys barely of age.
A mother screamed as her child was pressed with a blade and told to take it.An old man clutched his son's arm and begged.
It was chaos.
The boy stepped back from the window, heart racing.
The blind man, still seated, tilted his head. His voice was gravel and shadow.
"Ye will not fight. Not yet. For your fight will come… when frost returns to the green."
The boy froze.Slowly, he turned toward him.
The blind man's hands rested calmly on the arms of his chair, his unseeing gaze fixed forward. He spoke again, quieter this time, but with an edge sharp enough to cut through the din outside.
"Yainna will fall tonight. The streets will run red. You must take your leave whilst time is yet yours to spend."
The boy didn't answer.He couldn't.
He had lived with this man for months, had thought him nothing more than a relic of another time, a body without sight. But his voice now was… certain. Heavy. Almost knowing.
Without another word, the boy grabbed what few possessions he owned — a leather satchel, a half-dull knife — and slipped out the back, the screams and horns chasing him into the dark.
Back at the castle
Thalia's boots struck the floor in pounding rhythm, each step a war between her will and the panic curling in her chest. She turned a sharp corner, almost skidding against the polished stone.
Then — silence.
The horns stopped.
Her body froze in the hallway.No one was blowing them anymore.
She didn't need to see the gates to know why.They were here.
Virvo. And the Venomids.
She forced her legs to move, tearing down the last hall toward William's chambers. Her gauntleted hand slammed against his door, the wood splintering under the blow before she kicked it open.
Empty.
Her stomach turned to lead. Her breath caught in her throat. For the first time in her life, she felt her strength drain not from battle wounds, but from something far heavier — the creeping certainty that she might already be too late.
Her knees hit the floor.
It was as though the castle walls pressed inward, every sound fading until only the frantic thud of her heartbeat remained. Her vision blurred with heat — not from rage, not from exhaustion, but from something she didn't even want to name.
And then she screamed.
It wasn't the battle cry of a knight. It was raw, tearing through the air like a blade, a sound that didn't belong to the living or the dead — something in between.
The cry tore through Yainna like wildfire, echoing off every tower and stone wall.It reached the gates.It reached the men standing upon them.And it reached Virvo.
The Horned Man stood in the frost-shadow of his own army. The Venomids — black-armored, still as statues — waited behind him. The flicker of the distant torches painted their masks in gold and blood.
When Thalia's scream hit him, it was as though a spear of sound had been driven into his skull.His knees bent under the force, his hands flying to his ears. Blood welled between his fingers. His vision swam.
The Venomids turned their heads in unison, silent, watching their master strain against the unseen force.
Virvo staggered, breathing hard.Then he looked at the blood staining his palms.
A slow, awful smile crept across his face.
"My…" he said, voice low and curling. "I have not seen that in a long, long while."
He spread his bloodied fingers, staring at them as though they were a long-lost relic.
"The girl… she screams like her. How precious."
One of the Venomids stepped forward, head bowed in silent question.
Virvo's grin sharpened.
"No. Let her come to me."
He turned his gaze toward the high walls of Yainna, his eyes catching the torchlight like molten gold.
"Sound the silence. No more horns. No warnings. Let the city listen."
The Venomids obeyed, the air around them growing still, as though even the wind feared to pass between them.
Above, the clouds shifted — and the moonlight spilled full upon the field, silvering the frost at their feet.