High above the mist-shrouded pine ridges of Whispering-Iron Gorge, the dark autumn sky suddenly turned the color of molten gold.
At first, to the sentries standing watch on the outer wooden towers, it looked as though dawn had arrived hours early in the southwestern heavens. The heavy gray rain clouds boiling above the mountain peaks did not merely part before the wind. They evaporated into nothingness as a wave of oppressive, suffocating heat rolled across three provinces at once, turning the falling rain into warm steam before it could touch the treetops.
