And her whisper came, faint as breath: "Master, lead them where the shadows do not look. Build strength before you strike."
He opened his eyes. "South."
The commander frowned. "Why south?"
"Because Maeven's leash pulls from the east," Lindarion said, his voice steady. "Because the corpses above lay north and west. But south…" He turned his gaze toward the dark tunnels stretching beyond firelight. "South has been silent. Too silent. Which means it hides something worth protecting—or fearing."
The lieutenants muttered. One spat again. "Or it hides nothing. And we waste what little breath we have chasing ghosts."
Nysha's shadows twitched violently. "Better to chase ghosts than march into the teeth of wolves."
The commander studied Lindarion. His eyes were hard, searching. "If we go south, what do you promise my people? Not dreams. Not riddles. What do you promise?"
