Night settled over Ravenhold.
Cold.
Still.
Watching.
The fires burned brighter than usual.
More guards lined the walls.
More eyes turned to the dark beyond the gates.
No one said it aloud—
But everyone felt it.
Something had changed.
Corvyn stood atop the watchtower.
Where the wind cut hardest.
Where the world stretched far into shadow and snow.
He had not slept.
He had not tried.
Nightfeather rested in his hand.
Bare.
The blade caught the faint moonlight.
A dark shimmer.
Unnatural.
Behind him—
Soft steps.
He didn't turn.
"Couldn't sleep?" Halric asked.
"No."
Halric joined him at the edge.
Looking out over the Wolfswood.
"You ever notice," he said, "how quiet it gets before something goes wrong?"
Corvyn's gaze didn't shift.
"Yes."
A long pause.
Then—
"It's too quiet."
Halric nodded.
"Thought so."
They stood in silence.
The wind whispered across the stone.
The forest below stretched into darkness.
Unmoving.
Unnatural.
Then—
A sound.
Faint.
Distant.
A horn.
Low.
Broken.
Not from Ravenhold.
From the forest.
Both men stiffened.
"That's not ours," Halric said.
"No."
Corvyn turned now.
Sharply.
"Signal the gate."
Halric was already moving.
Shouting orders down the tower.
Below—
The keep stirred instantly.
Men rushing.
Torches lit.
Weapons drawn.
The horn sounded again.
Closer this time.
Strained.
Desperate.
Then—
Shapes emerged from the tree line.
Running.
Staggering.
A small group.
Five… no—
Six men.
Barely holding together.
The gate guards reacted immediately.
"Hold!"
Weapons raised.
But Corvyn's voice cut through from above.
"Let them through!"
The gates opened.
Just enough.
The men stumbled inside.
Collapsed.
One fell to his knees the moment he crossed the threshold.
Another didn't get back up at all.
Halric reached them first.
"Easy—easy—"
He grabbed one by the shoulders.
"What happened?"
The man looked up.
Eyes wide.
Terrified.
"Forest…" he gasped.
"They're—"
He choked on the words.
Struggled to breathe.
Corvyn was already descending the tower.
Fast.
Controlled.
He reached the courtyard within moments.
Kneeling beside the man.
"Speak."
The man's hand shot out.
Gripping Corvyn's arm.
Too tight.
"They're not men…"
A ripple of unease spread through the gathered soldiers.
Corvyn's voice remained steady.
"How many?"
The man shook his head wildly.
"Too many…"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"They don't stop…"
Behind them—
The gates slammed shut.
Barred.
Secured.
The horn sounded again in the distance.
But this time—
It wasn't alone.
Another answered it.
Then another.
Echoing through the forest.
Surrounding.
Closing in.
Halric looked toward the walls.
"…That's not good."
Corvyn stood slowly.
His expression hardened.
Focused.
Ready.
"Positions," he ordered.
No hesitation.
The courtyard erupted into motion.
Men rushing to the walls.
Archers taking place.
Torches raised high.
Edrick appeared at the top of the steps.
Already armed.
Already aware.
His voice carried across the keep.
"Hold the line."
The horns continued.
Closer.
Louder.
And from the edge of the Wolfswood—
Shadows began to move.
Not one.
Not ten.
But many.
Advancing.
Slow.
Relentless.
The first omen had come.
And it did not come quietly.