The atmosphere within the Royal Sanctum of the Blackfang Stronghold had shifted from the frantic energy of a battlefield to the heavy, suffocating stillness of a temple. Outside, the winds of the North howled against the stone battlements, a choir of winter wraiths demanding entry. Inside, the world had narrowed to the radius of a single, massive bed.
Hundreds of candles flickered in the shadows, their golden flames dancing against the ancient tapestries. The silk hangings, depicting long-forgotten wars, seemed to ripple as the long, swaying shadows of three souls—bound by a destiny they were only beginning to comprehend—stretched across the stone floor.
