Chapter 40: The Courtyard of Zamorde
The road to Lord Zamorde's manor felt like a noose tightening with every step.
Hannah kept Billy close, the small boy slumped forward on Bess's back, too weak to hold himself upright.
Bart had given him a crust of bread and a crisp apple not long before — the first real food he'd tasted in days — but it hadn't erased the hollow, dead look in his eyes.
He clung to the horse's mane like it was the only thing keeping him from falling into the dark again.
Ren stirred quietly in Hannah's cloak, his tiny scales humming a low, steady note.
'Weak human, there are the cult. Many. Waiting.'
She understood at once.
No need for childish words. He simply identified the threat — as only he could.
She could feel them too. Eyes in every doorway. Breaths held in every alley. The cult was not attacking. They were herding.
The manor loomed ahead: tall stone walls, blue-and-gold banners, two guards standing stiff at the gate.
