Some wounds will not heal—except by grace.
Winter arrives too early in Kinlan, and with it, a chill deeper than frost. Malak returns from battle carrying more than scars—he brings a prisoner bound in silence, and chains that stir dread. Galot senses the tension and feels the stirrings of something more: a longing for purpose, a hunger for truth, and questions his father won’t answer.
As the town braces for a season of uncertainty, a darker season unfolds beyond its borders. Outside forces are not gone. And what they seek cannot remain hidden forever.
"The murmurs swelled, voices rising sharp and jagged, until Malak stood, his presence cutting through the din like a blade through chaff. 'Rho is my guest,' he said, voice low but firm, carrying over the crowd. 'Though he remains a prisoner in his chains. I found him bleeding, shackled, and I wasn't going to let him die.'"
"A burly farmer, face creased with toil, boomed from the pews, 'Well, maybe you should have! He's a criminal—filth in our midst!' Others nodded, their grumbles a chorus of agreement, and Demas’s lips curled faintly, his gaze sharpening as he leaned forward. 'Not wise, Malak,' he said, voice smooth but edged with venom. 'You’ve brought sin into our land—a stain on Kinlan’s purity."
Coming soon: Reflections, background, and thoughts from the trail.
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