CAIRN POINT OF VIEW

By the time I made my way back to the barracks, Moonfang had already slipped into its night rhythm, the kind that looked calm on the surface but never truly rested beneath it.

The corridors stretched long and dim, lit by torches that burned low and steady, their flames flickering just enough to make the shadows move along the stone walls. Every sound is carried here. The echo of boots against the floor. The distant murmur of voices from another hall. The faint scrape of ...