Lord Adrian stepped into the predawn chill and did a quick prayer as he did every morning. The village slept in peaceful silence, with few earlier risers he'd come to know by name. He paused, studying the faces of his people.
On the surface, everything appeared normal. Beneath it, he caught something different—a sparkle in their eyes, hope mixed with anticipation.
For now, at least, there's peace. The thought felt fragile against the weight of what he knew was coming.
Adrian drew a deep breath of cold air and set off toward the Holy House of Luud, his cane tapping against cobblestone. The mundane scene almost let him forget about the approaching apocalypse.
Almost.
"I must begin preparations," he murmured.
The Holy House's weathered doors opened at his push. Aged wood and incense welcomed him as he walked briskly toward his office, but his steps faltered at the entrance.
Two letters lay on the ground before his door.
