Parker's POV
Parker pressed his palms against the wooden palisade, staring out at the snow-covered wasteland. The white expanse had taken on an unnatural crimson glow as the sun began its descent. Something was wrong about this twilight, something that made his skin crawl.
The outpost felt like a tomb. No howling echoed from the distant forests. No wings beat overhead. Even the scavenging ravens had fled their usual perches on the watchtowers. The old soldiers had a name for this eerie calm: the stillness before hell.
It always came before the first night of the red moon. It never promised safety. It warned of the storm to come.
They had reached the northern fortress hours earlier, but Lord Hardy and Lady Faye were nowhere to be found. The massive gates had been barred shut, flames danced along the defensive walls, and guard rotations changed every thirty minutes to prevent frozen fingers from losing their grip on weapons.
