SOREN
The gates of the capital were behind me now, and already, the sound of their closing seemed smaller than it should have been.
It was a dull, heavy thud that didn't echo so much as it simply ceased to exist, swallowed by the vast, oppressive silence of the Long Dark.
I didn't look back.
It was a discipline Vetra had beaten into me during the early years of my tutelage: an emperor's eyes are always on the horizon, Soren, because the past is a graveyard that will bury you if you linger.
I kept that rule today without the usual resentment. It was useful. It was the only thing keeping my spine straight as the distance between me and the woman I loved grew with every rhythmic strike of my horse's hooves.
Dawn arrived without ceremony. It wasn't golden; it was a slow, agonizing transition from black to a bruised, sickly gray.
The light illuminated the world without warming it, casting a pale glow over the column of smoke that still rose from the outer districts.
