The Night Without Wind

The fortress did not sleep.

Not because of celebration—there was none—but because every wolf, every guard, every servant could feel it: the shift in the air. The sensation that something had been set in motion and could no longer be stopped.

The wind had died completely. Not a leaf moved in the trees beyond the walls. Even the river, usually a restless murmur beneath the cliffs, seemed to have fallen silent, as if it too was holding its breath.

Elaria stood on the ...