At the borders of Blackhollow Keep.
The main road leading toward the Osicade Kingdom stretched out beyond the great outer gates like a long grey wound cut through the land. The path was made from wide stone panels, old and heavy, fitted together across the ground and running straight through a clearing in the small forest beyond the keep. On normal days, merchants would have passed through that road with wagons full of grain, cloth, iron, salt, spices, timber, and letters from other territories.
On normal days, guards would have checked papers, travelers would have complained about taxes, and children from nearby houses would have stood at a distance watching the movement of carts with curious eyes.
But today, the place felt wrong. The air near the gates was tense, thick with whispers and fear, as if something terrible had entered the keep and everyone had already smelled it before seeing it.
