On the eighth night, the first sign came. The sky above the sanctuary turned red. Not sunrise red, but blood red. The color of warning. The color of danger.
They gathered in the square, weapons ready, hearts pounding. But nothing came. The red faded as suddenly as it had appeared. The night returned to normal.
"It was a test," said Varen. "They are checking our defenses. Seeing how we react."
"Did we pass?" asked Elara.
"We reacted with fear. That is what they wanted. But we did not scatter. That is what they did not expect."
The queen looked at the sky. "They will come again. Soon."
"Let them come," said Kalib. His hand rested on the sword he had forged from his memories. "We are ready."