The raven descended through the mist with the dawn.
Its wings, as black as midnight between worlds, cut through the freezing air of the main courtyard of the Brothers of Shadow castle, leaving a trail of silver feathers that dissolved before touching the obsidian slabs.
The silence was absolute, reverent, as if even the wind feared interrupting its flight.
In its claws it carried a thick envelope, sealed with red wax.
The Iron Blood emblem—a moon cleaved by the edge of a sword—burned with a faint glow, pulsing to the rhythm of an ancient power.
The bird perched on the stone pedestal beside the castle doors, spreading its wings with a low caw that resonated like an omen.
One of the guards stepped forward and, with a gesture of respect, held a silver tray beneath the raven. A flash of dark fire—invoked by one of the Alpha's sorcerers—was enough to break the seal with a snap.
The parchment fell gently onto the tray, its surface exhaling a golden glow, as if breathing.
***
