The clearing was a cathedral of ancient stone and silver mist. In the center stood the High Lord of the Druids. His back was turned, his indigo robes heavy and still, absorbing the dim light of the dying sun. He looked like a statue carved from shadow, a silent god in a forest that breathed … Read more

The mist in the Forest of Gedref did not drift; it clung. It felt like cold, damp fingers pressing against Arthur’s skin, trailing over the stubble on his jaw and the hollows beneath his bloodshot eyes. He had been riding for two days, but the exhaustion went deeper than a lack of sleep. It was … Read more

The stone of the council chamber felt colder than it had a year ago. Or perhaps it was just Arthur. For twelve months, the King of Camelot had lived in a silence he hadn’t known was possible. The Citadel was loud with the clatter of armor and the ringing of bells, but the quiet—the hollow … Read more