Out in the howling snow of the central courtyard, a massive caravan of five carriages waited, their iron wheels chained for the ice.
Harun and Talha stood near the lead carriage, both clad in layered furs that made them look like armored bears against the white backdrop. Leaning casually against the door of the first carriage was the Royal Inquisitor—a towering figure swathed in a deep burgundy veil that obscured his face from chin to crown, creating an unsettling void of silence. A few paces away, Sylaris's head nanny stood wringing her hands in her apron, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from weeping.
Footsteps crunched on the frozen ground. Xulthas was walking ahead, holding Zaliyah's hand within his own as they emerged from the shadows of the keep.
