The market square of Elderglen bustled with life, but Roman's eyes were fixed on something far more interesting than fruit stalls or swordsmiths. A group of armored knights had returned—without the missing envoy.
He crouched behind a cart of onions, listening. The captain's voice was low but sharp.
"No signs. Just tracks leading into Graythorn and nothing coming out. We're not going back in without the High Seer's blessing."
Roman's heart pounded. Graythorn Keep. No one went near it. Not since the old war.
He stood to sneak away and crashed straight into Snora, who'd been looking for him for nearly an hour.
"Roman!" she hissed, grabbing his sleeve. "You promised you wouldn't eavesdrop again!"
"But Snora," he whispered urgently, "they found something. Or didn't. Graythorn. That's where the envoy vanished."
Snora's eyes narrowed. She felt a ripple of unease in the air—Roman's excitement mixed with fear, and something else… like a shadow.
Then came the scream.
It echoed from the castle gates—high and piercing. People turned. Roman and Snora ran.
By the time they arrived, the crowd had gathered. A page stumbled into view, pale as parchment, clutching a silver pendant—engraved with a tree wrapped in chains.
Snora gasped. She had seen that symbol before… in a dream.