The guards standing outside the castle of the sorcerer were in an unusually somber mood that night. The silence between them stretched thick and uneasy, broken only by the faint hiss of torches swaying in the wind.
One of them leaned against the stone wall, his fingers tightening around the wooden handle of the torch, as if its light could somehow drive away the dread gnawing at his chest. The rest sat or stood nearby, dazed, eyes fixed on the flickering flames rather than the heavy shadows cast by the looming castle behind them.
The night itself was quiet — too quiet. The moon hung high, pale and unfeeling, and the air seemed heavy with something unspeakable. But it wasn't the darkness of the sky that kept them from sleep. No, it was the thought of what might be lurking inside the castle walls that haunted them most.
Finally, one of the guards, braver or perhaps simply more restless than the others, broke the silence.
"Are they yet to return to their houses?"
