"Some truths don't need to be spoken to be undeniable; they echo in your footsteps, tighten in your chest, and follow you like a shadow you refuse to turn and face."
The Northern Kingdom's eastern corridor was quiet, too quiet for a fortress allegedly "on high alert." I walked its length with silent steps, boots barely whispering against polished stone. My sword rested at my hip, my cloak tucked for swift movement, my senses open for threat.
There was none and just frost, cold torches, and my own growing irritation. I had spent a week shadowing the so-called Omega from RoanRidge, the one King Alaric seemed disturbingly protective of. Elias Blackthorne. And then another, the sister. Taemin. The woman is powerful enough to send even hardened warriors twitching.
Two Omegas disrupt centuries of structure. Wonderful.
Once again, I questioned why I was doing this instead of stabbing something.
