The storm arrived three days later than the scouts had initially predicted. It began as little more than a persistent snowfall drifting gently across the sharp ridges of the northern mountains. By nightfall, however, fierce winds swept through the valleys with terrifying force, carrying heavy sheets of ice that swallowed the roads and reduced visibility to only a few paces.
Inside the thick stone walls of Bloodstone Manor, the great alarm bell rang out across the frozen courtyard. The rhythmic chimes did not signal frantic urgency, but rather a calm and calculated purpose that resonated through every corridor. The extensive winter preparations that the household had labored over for months were now shifting into active service.
