Liam sat on the edge of a low stone wall near the practice yard, sketching lazily with a bit of charcoal he'd found. A few other noble children played nearby, including the bratty son of a visiting lord Lucan. He seems to just want to be a nuisance.
Lucan sauntered over with a smirk. "Why're you always lurking around the palace like some lost puppy? Thought this was for real blood."
Liam didn't look up. "I'm not bothering you."
Lucan sneered. "You don't belong here. Neither does that Corin boy. Everyone knows his father's a disappointment and he's just loud to cover for it."
Liam's hand paused mid-sketch.
"Shut up," he said, voice calm but firm. "Corin's not a disappointment. He's brave, and he's stronger than you'll ever be. At least he doesn't need to insult people to feel important."
Lucan's mouth curled in mock offense, but Liam stared him down until the boy finally muttered something and walked off.
What Liam didn't know was that Corin had been standing just behind the hedge, frozen. He'd come looking for his lost dagger, not expecting to hear that.
Later that afternoon, as Liam was sitting by the garden fountain, still sketching, Corin approached him, this time without the usual bravado. He didn't say anything at first. Just sat down beside him and pulled something from his pocket.
It was a small wooden wolf, whittled roughly but clearly made with effort.
"My grandfather taught me how to carve," Corin muttered, not quite meeting Liam's eyes. "I made this one, but it's not really my style."
He held it out awkwardly.
"For you."
Liam blinked, surprised. "Really?"
Corin shrugged, then gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching. "I heard what you said earlier. About me."
Liam smiled. "You heard that, huh?"
Corin didn't reply, but his ears were slightly red. "Don't get all weird about it. Just… thanks."
Then he stood up quickly. "Come on. I know where the kitchen staff hides the sweetbread. You in?"
Liam grinned and jumped to his feet, clutching the wolf in his palm. "Absolutely."
....
The knock came before dawn.
Thornak stirred, the deep rumble of Jax's growl already vibrating in his chest before he even opened his eyes.
"Sire," came Dain's voice from beyond the doors, firm, urgent. "You are needed. It's Ashmoor."
At once, Thornak was up. The cold stone underfoot did little to slow the blaze now roaring through his blood. He was already pulling on his cloak as he threw open the doors. Dain stood there grim-faced, eyes shadowed with something more than tiredness.
"They're in your study. Scouts. Kael and Ruvan."
Thornak didn't speak. He moved.
The heavy doors to his office were open, and within, the scent of smoke and sweat clung to the air like a warning. Kael stood near the map table, arms crossed, jaw tight. Ruvan's sharp eyes flicked toward his king, then back to the scout kneeling before them. Blood still stained the boy's shoulder.
"The message was scrawled on the outer wall," Kael said before Thornak could ask. "In blood."
Thornak's eyes narrowed.
The scout's voice trembled. "We... we lost a third of our numbers in the night raid, my king. There was no sign of entry, no breach of the gate. Just silence… and then chaos."
"And the message?" Thornak asked, voice like stone grinding on steel.
The scout lifted his chin. "Three words, sire. 'I am waiting.'"
The room fell into a hush. Even the fire in the hearth seemed to lower its breath.
Thornak's gaze swept the map. "Then we answer."
"Shall I call the riders?" Dain asked.
Thornak nodded once. "We ride at first light."
He turned to the others. "Sharpen your claws. Whoever dares touch Ashmoor has called down a storm and I will give them one."
Jax howled in approval, a low, rising sound that promised blood.
Meanwhile in Lara's chambers...
Lara drifted in sleep, but something pulled at the edges of her dream.
She stood barefoot in a place that did not exist in the waking world, a forest of blackened trees, their trunks twisted and etched with glowing runes. The air was thick, humming with forgotten magic. Shadows curled between the roots, but above, the sky pulsed with a soft violet hue, like dusk trapped in a jar.
A breeze stirred the leaves, though no wind blew.
Then came the voice, low, clear, and undeniably ancient.
"Ashmoor is a trap."
Lara turned sharply, scanning the shifting mists. "Who's there?"
No answer, only the steady thrum of unseen power pressing against her skin like a heartbeat.
Then again, that voice:
"He walks into the snare of the dead."
From between the trees, a faint shape began to form. A woman, tall and veiled in silken light, her eyes aglow like twin moons. Her presence stirred something in Lara's blood, an echo, a memory not her own.
"Who are you?" Lara asked, her voice barely a breath.
The figure stepped closer, gaze intense and knowing. "He must go to the Vale of Thorns."
"Why?"
"Because that is where truth hides, and where the shadow dares not linger long."
A howl shattered the air, raw, fierce, and then... Everything was still.
She gasped awake, heart thudding violently. Sweat clung to her skin despite the cool air. She sat up slowly, breath ragged, eyes wide.
"Ashmoor?" she murmured aloud. "What is Ashmoor?"
She'd never heard of it. No one had spoken its name around her. And yet, the warning clung to her mind like the scent of smoke in her hair.
What if it was real? A vision. A true warning.
Or…what if it wasn't?
What if someone was in her mind?
Lara stood, pacing across the stone floor barefoot. Her thoughts spiraled. Why would she dream of a place she doesn't know? Unless something, or someone was pushing it into her head.
And if she told Thornak? Would he even believe her? Would he think she was insane, or worse, lying?
The knot in her chest twisted tighter. What if the enemy is using me and I don't even know it? What if I'm being used to lure him away? Wouldn't that be exactly what they'd want?
Her hands curled into fists. She couldn't just ignore the dream.
She pressed a hand to her chest, where her heartbeat echoed like a war drum.
Thornak was in danger.
The war table was lit by a scattering of candles and the glow of the central hearth. Thornak stood over the map with Dain, Kael, and Ruvan flanking him, voices low and urgent as they plotted the route to Ashmoor.
"A day's ride if we press hard," Kael said, tapping the eastern path. "But they'll expect us to take the main road."
"We'll go through the western ridge," Thornak muttered. "Surprise will be to our advantage."
Just then, a guard stepped into the chamber, pausing at the threshold. "My king… Lady Lara requests to see you. She says it's urgent."
Thornak's eyes flicked up, his body still. "Now?"
"Yes, sire. She insisted."
The room fell into a beat of tense silence.
Kael arched a brow, while Ruvan glanced at Dain, who gave a barely-there shrug.
Thornak straightened slowly. "Send her in."
The king held up a hand as the guard turned to leave. "No. Take her to my private chamber. I'll meet her there."
The others looked at him, Kael with curiosity, Dain with concern, Ruvan with silent calculation, but none spoke.
Thornak turned from the map and left the war room without another word, his cloak brushing the stone floor behind him.
He entered his chamber and paused.
Lara stood near the fire, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her silhouette bathed in amber light. She turned at the sound of the door, eyes meeting his, relieved, but still tense.
Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.
She sank into him, clinging tighter than usual.
He leaned back just enough to look at her. "You're trembling. What is it?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, eyes darting to the floor. Her fingers clutched the fabric of her sleeves, knuckles pale.
He didn't rush her. He simply waited.
"I… I don't know how to say it without sounding insane," she murmured. "I had a dream. It felt like a dream but also like a vision. Like something… was reaching out to me."
He didn't flinch. "Tell me everything."
Lara took a breath, then looked up. "There was a forest with black trees. Moonlight. And a voice which was calm but clear. It told me to warn you. To tell you not to go to Ashmoor. That it's a trap... A snare of the dead. It said to go to the Vale of Thorns."
Her voice trembled on the last word, and she looked away quickly.
"I know how it sounds," she added. "But that was the dream I had and it felt real."
Thornak stepped back, visibly taken aback. His jaw tightened as his eyes searched hers, as if trying to see deeper than what she was saying.
The Vale of Thorns was ancient and half-swallowed by time. It was a place even seasoned warriors avoided. There were twisted trees, long abandoned shrines, and silence thick as smoke gave it the weight of forgotten things. And how will she possibly know about Ashmoor.
He studied her, saw the fear in her eyes, fear not of the dream, but of how he might take it.
Her voice held no certainty, only truth and that was rarer. It struck him like instinct, and he'd learned long ago to trust the voice that echoed his own.
"I believe you," he said, quiet but firm.
Then he stepped forward and gently took her hands in his. "You did the bravest thing by coming here," he said. "You trusted what you felt, even when you were afraid."
She hugged him tightly.
Back in the king's office...
"We alter our movement," Thornak said, voice low but resolute. "The main force rides to the Vale of Thorns."
Dain blinked. "What? But Ashmoor was the target. That's where the attack happened."
Kael stepped forward. "With all due respect, brother, why the Vale? There's been no movement reported from there. Nothing to suggest..."
"I'm aware," Thornak said, cutting him off gently. "But the enemy wants us focused east. I believe the real danger lies in the Vale."
Ruvan frowned. "Based on what?"
Thornak didn't answer at first. His jaw tightened slightly.
"Intuition," he said at last. "And a feeling I can't ignore."
The three men exchanged uncertain glances. Dain spoke again, cautiously. "You've never led us with guesswork, Thorn. But then, what about Ashmoor?"
"We send a scouting party. Quiet, fast. I want eyes there, but no engagement unless absolutely necessary." He looked to Kael. "Pick your fastest riders. They leave now."
No one argued after that. But the room remained thick with tension.