Shadows Before the Border
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
Wind swept through the canyon like the slow breath of something ancient, gliding over the jagged cliffs and whispering down into the sleeping valley. The sky hung heavy with stars, silver dust scattered across an ocean of darkness. The moon was half-veiled by clouds, painting the stone ridges in fractured light.
This was the edge of the Lionheart Kingdom — a forgotten stretch of land, far from cities, far from walls or sentries. A place where silence reigned, and anything could hide beneath its cover.
A cold gust rolled through, carrying the dry scent of earth and pine. Then—
Tak... tak... tak... tak...
A rhythm broke the stillness.
Faint, steady, distant at first — like the heartbeat of the land itself. Then louder, sharper. The sound of hooves striking stone echoed through the canyon, reverberating off the walls.
From the horizon, a dark shape began to take form.
