When the Horn Blew
The district of Cragstone was peaceful as the sun set. The stone houses and narrow streets glowed orange in the fading light. Since it was Saturday, the markets stayed open a little longer than usual. Although Cragstone was just above the poorest district in the whole County of Caelmont, it was still home for Kael Varn.
The streets were still busy. Merchants called out their last prices, and children ran past,
laughing. But Kael felt something strange. Something was wrong. "Kael," Tavon said, walking beside him. "You're staring at every soldier. They'll notice."
Kael frowned. "You don't see it? Their banners. Those aren't Aureli colors. And half these
soldiers… they're not from here."
Tavon stared at the soldiers with his fearless grey eyes. He was shorter than Kael, but there was something steady about him—a calmness that made people trust him. Intelligent, kind, and always in control, Tavon was the balance to Kael's fire.
Their armor was dark. Their faces were hidden under their helmets. They moved like
hunters, and their horses were no less than predators.
Tavon leaned closer and whispered, "Our soldiers must know about this. They're not that
careless. Maybe these men were sent by the Crown… invited by the government."
"We should head home now. Time's short—I don't want to miss dinner. We'll investigate
these soldiers later," Kael said.
"See you tomorrow!" Tavon called, waving as he quickened his pace and walked away.
Kael walked toward his street. The orange light of the sunset was fading, and the sky turned gray. Shadows grew longer, making the corners of Cragstone look dark.
His house was at the edge of the district—a small stone home with a slanted roof and
smoke curling from the chimney. The smell of fresh bread filled the air. Kael walked faster.
He pushed the wooden door open. Warm firelight filled the room. His mother's voice came
from near the table.
"Kael, you're late," Serena said, putting a steaming pot down. Her dark hair was tied back,
and a few strands fell on her face.
"Sorry, Ma," Kael said, closing the door. "The market was crowded."
His father, Garren Varn, sat by the fire, sharpening a sword. His big shoulders looked
tense, like something was on his mind. He looked at Kael with sharp eyes.
"See anything strange in the market?" Garren asked in a calm voice.
Kael froze for a second. He thought of the soldiers—their black armor, their hidden faces.
"No… nothing," Kael said quickly and sat down.
Outside, a horn blew—deep and long. A sound Kael had never heard before.
And then came the screams. Shouts tearing through the night.
"FIRE! FIRE IN GRAVENMOOR!"
"RUN! THEY'RE HERE!"
Kael's heart pounded. He ran to the window. In the distance, beyond the rooftops, the sky
was glowing red.