The Shadow on the Cliff
Aurelian, however, did not smile. Not so much as a flicker, not even a twitch. His eyes were set—beyond the burned-over earth, beyond the crashed eagles, and beyond the valley floor—to the cliffside well beyond.
For there, for an instant, he saw it.
A silhouette. Black against the glare of morning sunlight, unbroken and motionless. The wind whispered on the edges of its cloak, bearing the slightest suggestion of cloth on stone. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the form vanished into the radiance of sunlight. But for that moment, those eyes had locked with his. Intentional. Calculated. Not a drifting shadow, not happenstance. A challenge had been laid down, silent but unmistakable.
