The lanterns at Winterbraun's gate shrank into the distance, swallowed whole by the thick white fog as the small company spurred their horses onward. Under a brooding sky, the snow no longer fell in gentle flakes but came down like a storm of knives.
Captain Meier Alister tightened his grip on the reins. His leather gloves had stiffened with frost, and the horses' breath steamed like boiling water in the biting air. Behind him, five of Valkra's finest rode shoulder to shoulder, pushing against the roaring wall of wind that screamed down from the north.
Cold like this should've been nothing new to them. Yet tonight, this midnight ride felt different, heavier, like a mission carved out of nightmares. They were men used to staring death in the face, but this storm carried a weight that even death didn't.
