Vice-Captain Elria stood like a sentinel in the storm, her greatsword's hilt a familiar weight on her back.
Around her, the evacuation continued, guards herded civilians toward the inner shelters, their voices muffled by the relentless blizzard. The infirmary team moved with practiced efficiency, escorting the last of the recovered patients through the swirling mist.
Good. We are almost done.
Her breath fogged in the freezing air as she scanned the whiteout. Captain Draven had taken a unit to the lower keep half an hour ago. Butler also said Lord has gone to the Western Wing Anchor.
But, they should've been back by now.
Then, shapes emerged from the haze.
"Hmm?"
A line of figures trudged toward her, their outlines blurred by the three-foot-deep mist, the snow, and the wind's howling veil. For a heartbeat, relief flickered in her chest.
Is it Captain's unit?
But her grip on her sword didn't loosen.
Never drop your guard.
