The storm did not wait.
Nor did the Crownless.
By the time the sky re-stitched itself above the ruined tower, the winds had already begun to howl from the north—carrying with them more than cold.
They carried presence.
Leon stood at the broken edge, sword still in hand, gaze set toward the horizon where the clouds moved like soldiers. No one spoke. Not at first.
Then Tomas exhaled sharply.
"So. That's where we're going."
Mira wiped soot from her cheek. "That's where they've gathered."
"No." Kairis stepped forward, her voice low. "That's where he waits."
Leon didn't need to ask who she meant.
The Crownless General.
The one who broke the Fourth Seal.
The one who'd commanded the pyre that nearly swallowed Arken's Watch whole.
The one who once wore the same crest as Leon.
"He knows we're coming," Leon said.
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Then let's make sure he knows why."
