The forest grew unnaturally quiet.
No wind.
No distant calls.
Even the snow seemed to fall without sound.
Corvyn slowed his steps.
Something was wrong.
Not unseen.
But waiting.
Behind him, the men felt it too.
Hands drifted toward weapons.
Breathing slowed.
Eyes searched the shadows.
Ser Halric moved closer.
"This is it," he muttered.
Corvyn gave a slight nod.
"Yes."
They had walked into the trap.
No turning back now.
A faint crunch echoed somewhere ahead.
Not loud.
But enough.
Corvyn stopped completely.
The men froze with him.
Another sound followed.
To the left.
Then the right.
Circling.
Closing.
Halric's hand tightened on his sword.
"They're already around us."
Corvyn slowly drew Nightfeather.
The black blade slid free without a sound.
"Form up," he said quietly.
The Ravaryn men moved quickly, tightening into a defensive circle.
Back to back.
Watching every direction.
The trees seemed closer now.
Darker.
Alive.
Then—
A horn shattered the silence.
Loud.
Close.
Bolton soldiers emerged from the forest.
Not dozens.
Hundreds.
They stepped from behind trees, rose from the snow, appeared from shadows that had seemed empty moments before.
A full force.
Waiting.
Watching.
Hunting.
Ser Halric let out a low breath.
"Well," he said, "that's a bit more than I expected."
Corvyn said nothing.
His eyes moved across the enemy.
Counting.
Measuring.
Accepting.
This was not a skirmish.
This was not a hunt.
This was a slaughter.
Unless—
A figure stepped forward through the ranks.
Armor marked with flayed sigils.
Calm.
Controlled.
Ser Roderic Bolton.
"Lord Corvyn," he called, his voice carrying easily through the trees.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."
Corvyn stepped forward slightly from the circle.
Nightfeather held low.
"You set a fine trap," he replied.
Roderic inclined his head.
"And you walked into it beautifully."
A faint smile touched the Bolton knight's lips.
"Twice you struck my camps. Twice you embarrassed my men."
His eyes hardened.
"I could not allow that to continue."
Halric shifted beside Corvyn.
"So you brought an army."
Roderic glanced at him.
"I brought certainty."
Silence followed.
The Bolton soldiers tightened their formation.
Step by step.
Closing the circle.
Corvyn felt the weight of it.
The inevitability.
The trap had closed.
And yet—
He did not step back.
Did not falter.
A raven's cry cut sharply through the air above.
Corvyn's eyes flicked upward.
For just a moment.
Then back to Roderic.
"Then finish it," Corvyn said calmly.
Roderic smiled.
"Oh, I intend to."
He raised his hand slowly.
Bolton soldiers lifted their weapons.
The forest held its breath.
And the trap's teeth began to close.