The wagon creaked over the final ridge as night settled over the mountains. Xavier shifted, letting Naomi lean against his shoulder while they both stared at the massive structure ahead. What had been a distant promise of shelter now became flesh—a three-story stone manor nestled against the mountainside, its windows dark except for a few flickering lights on the ground floor.
"That's not a waypoint," Naomi whispered. "That's a bloody castle."
Efler clicked her tongue at the horses. "Duke Harren's hunting lodge. He abandoned it when the winters grew too harsh. Now it serves travelers when the official waypoints are full or destroyed."
The remaining wagons limped into the courtyard, wheels crunching through fresh snow. Xavier counted their survivors again—eleven people where twenty-five had started.
"Hear that?" Naomi nudged him as they climbed down from the wagon.
Xavier paused. The whispers carried on the cold air:
"—took down three Thornbeasts—"
