Snow fell more heavily than in the days before. White flakes drifted without pause, sheathing the castle walls in a thick layer that shimmered faintly in the light of enchanted torches. A winter wind blew from the north, carrying a bite that would have pierced to the bone though neither the castle's living nor its zombie truly felt it.
Several days had passed since Sylvia decided she would go to the city of Anarats. In that time she made sure the zombies from Nocture had adjusted to this new world. The tower guards had already settled into a disciplined rhythm; the hunters were mapping the surrounding lands; even a few zombie mages had begun erecting magic circles to fortify the defenses. All of it progressed faster than she expected; they were, indeed, different from the zombies native to this world.
