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Rio stood at the palisade, his eyes fixed on the snow. It wasn’t white anymore. The light reflected off it carried a red tint, even though the sun was still up.
The outpost was too quiet. No distant howls nor beating wings. Even the ravens had abandoned the watchpoles. The veterans called this silence the lull. It was when everything pulled back before the first night. It never meant safety. It meant the opposite.
They had arrived at the northern outpost hours ago without Lord Cassian or Lady Atasha. The gates were sealed, braziers burned along the walls, and crews rotated every half hour to keep numb hands from dropping spears.
Men whispered and glanced at the sky. No one said it aloud, but it showed on their faces, this was not how the first night usually looked.
Rio glanced at Mendez. “Are you certain the Lord will come back safe?”
“Worry less about him,” Mendez said, his gaze fixed through the slit window of the palisade. “The red moon doesn’t weaken him. It fuels him, makes him stronger.” He exhaled, eyes shifting to the endless plain where the snow stretched without end. “The Lady, though…”
He fell silent. The snow beyond glowed faintly red under the fading sun. His hand pressed against the sill as he let out a quiet sigh. “We can only hope she survives it. May the goddess watch her.”
Rio rubbed his jaw, then nodded. “I’ll set the men. Double arrows on the towers. Nets ready. Boil the pitch.”
“Do it,” Mendez said.
Rio hesitated at the door. “Can we survive this tide without him?”
The thought clawed at him. Every red moon in the past, Lord Cassian had been just outside the walls, fighting. He pulled the strongest packs away from the outpost, broke the beasts before they ever reached the gates. The men believed the walls held because the Lord held the field. This time, the field was empty.
Mendez finally looked up at the red–stained sun. “We have to,” he said. “There’s no choice.” Then, quieter, he bowed his head. “Coddess, bless His Lordship and Her Ladyship. Keep them safe.”
Rio nodded, then stepped out.
Outside, the yard was already moving. Runners hauled sand buckets to the towers. Shield crews checked their grips. The ballista team cranked cords and greased the slides. Rio climbed the main walk and barked assignments.
Men obeyed quickly, boots thudding against the timber. The silence beyond the wall pressed heavier with each passing minute.
A horn hung beside the gate ladder. Rio palmed the cold metal, glancing at the sky one last time. The sun dipped lower, the red deepening around them. Moonrise would come soon, and with it, the first wave.
8:13 Mon, Sep 15
Chapter 87
“Shutters ready,” he called down. “No one breaks formation. We will stick to the plan.”
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Mendez climbed the walk beside him, cloak tugged by the wind. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
The lull ended with a single, distant cry from the tree line, high, drawn–out, and nothing like any wolf Rio knew. He raised the horn to his lips and blew.
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