The night before the expected wave was the quietest I had ever known Frosthold to be.
The frantic activity of the past days had finally ceased, replaced by a stillness so profound it seemed to press against the walls, against the windows, against my very skin. The warriors had done all they could do. The defenses were as strong as they would ever be. Supplies were stockpiled, weapons were sharpened, and prayers were offered. Now there was only waiting.
I sat in my chambers, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, and tried to find peace in the silence. It eluded me. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the stone to carry meaning. My mind churned through possibilities, through fears, through the vision that haunted my dreams.
A knock at the door startled me from my reverie.
