The night air carried a chill that had nothing to do with the season.
Kael walked the perimeter of the village, his footsteps slow and deliberate, his mind churning through the preparations that still needed to be made.
The walls were higher now, the watchtowers more stable, the choke points more deliberate. Thran had done well with the Fortification Insight—better than well.
But something gnawed at him. A feeling he couldn't shake, like a splinter buried too deep to see but too sharp to ignore.
The dagger at his hip hummed—a low, steady vibration that had become almost familiar over the past days. It wasn't the shadow's voice, not quite. It was something else.
You're being watched, it seemed to say. You've always been watched.
Kael stopped at the eastern edge of the village, looking out at the dark treeline. The forest was silent—too silent, now that he thought about it. No birds. No rustling. Just the weight of the night pressing down on everything.
"Kael."
