The lanterns came first, flaring against the estate walls like sudden wounds in the darkness. Soren jerked upright in his narrow bed, the shard against his chest pulsing with violent cold that stole his breath. Something was wrong.
Through his small window, he caught glimpses of a black-cloaked procession marching through the main gates, their silvered staves catching the torchlight in brief, threatening flashes. The Velrane guards stood aside without challenge, a sight so unusual it sent ice sliding down Soren's spine.
'They've come for you,' Valenna whispered, her voice sharp as winter frost. 'The Church does not forgive. The Church does not forget.'
Soren pulled on his boots with trembling hands, every muscle still aching from Kaelor's brutal training regimen. He had barely finished dressing when his door crashed open, revealing three house guards with grim faces and averted eyes.
"Come," the lead guard said, not meeting Soren's gaze. "You're summoned to the great hall."
