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Chapter 81: Rain of Judgment
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Chapter 83: ...what’s left is hope.
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... in the hearth, it painted flickers of gold over stained wood and worn faces. The snow outside piled high against the window, but inside, the air was warm with tension and drink.
Men huddled close around a battered table, tankards in hand, whispers tighter than fists. The walls groaned as the wind outside howled—a cold reminder of the world beyond.
"Ain’t it strange," one man said, his breath steaming in the air, "how quiet it’s been?"
He was lean, with greying stubble an ...
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