Silvergate Keep rose like a wound in the land, jagged and cold. No birds flew near it. No light touched its walls. As they approached, the air thickened with voices; ones they recognized.
Liran heard his former patron's scorn again. Selene saw the eyes of the soldiers she'd failed. Amaris heard the villagers' laughter, the dismissive tones, and worst of all, her own voice repeating their words.
They argued. Liran wanted to burn the Keep down and be done with it. Selene wanted to run. Amaris said nothing. That night, she wrote by firelight, her hands trembling, her tears staining the page.
She wrote about Cael, about herself, about the moments no one else saw; the quiet kindnesses, the silent battles. She read it aloud to them. Her voice cracked, but she kept going. And when she finished, something changed.
Not outside. The shadows still loomed. But within. A small warmth returned.
Bloodfang came at dawn. Towering. Shimmering. Its form shifted with every word it had ever consumed; faces, insults, screams, sneers.
Amaris didn't lift a sword. She stepped forward with her scroll.