Outside the towering stone walls of the Iron-Wood Manor, the massive glaciers that had choked the mountain passes were actively fracturing. The air was filled with the constant, heavy cracking of shifting ice and the deafening roar of newly formed waterfalls cascading down the jagged peaks.
The freezing, biting wind had surrendered to a humid, earthy breeze that carried the raw, untamed promise of rebirth.
But inside the Manor, the shifting season heralded a completely different kind of awakening.
The Manor had been relatively quiet since the twins' chaotic dire-boar incident. It was late afternoon, and the corridors were bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Zarek, the Dragon King, was conducting his standard perimeter check. He walked silently down the western wing, his heavy boots making absolutely no sound on the woven runner, his draconic senses perfectly attuned to the ambient magic of his home.
