The night in the barracks was long — a restless, creaking quiet punctuated by the distant sigh of the wind against the shutters and the occasional groan of settling timbers. Even with the hearths burning low, the cold never truly left. It crawled in through the cracks, the way guilt or fear might find its way into a man’s thoughts.

By morning, the first light had not yet broken the horizon. The fires were embers, and the air hung heavy with the scent of smoke, sweat, and iron.

Beyond the walls, the snow had deepened overnight. The storm had passed, leaving the world muted and pale — the kind of silence that made one listen too closely, only to realize how little they wanted to hear.

Inside the fortress, soldiers were already at work. The ringing of hammers and the distant grind of metal against stone rolled faintly through the corridors. From the courtyard came the rhythmic bark of drills — the garrison roused early, their voices sharp, their movements tense.

Word had spread through the ranks by dawn.
The western scouts still had not returned. The search party sent after them — also gone. Supplies from the southern pass were delayed. And now, the ice along the bay had thickened overnight — a thin white crust glinting like glass across the water.

The soldiers whispered about omens, about shapes seen moving beneath that glass.

Down in the lower barracks, the travelers stirred to life. A few soldiers passed through briefly, offering a nod or a wary glance — acknowledgment, but not trust. Outside, the muffled sound of the bell tolling once carried through the frost, and a faint vibration ran through the floorboards, as though something deep beneath the Bastion had answered in kind.

In the courtyard above, Roderic Alstadt stood near the half-frozen well, his cloak drawn tight against the morning chill. His breath steamed faintly as he read over the reports in his gloved hands, jaw set in quiet frustration.

[color=#5c7085]“Three patrols missing,”[/color] he murmured, his voice low enough that only the nearby captain could hear. [color=#5c7085]“And now the supply train from the south’s gone silent too.”[/color]

The captain shifted uneasily.

[color=#8b8b8b]“Could be the weather, my lord. The passes freeze over faster every year—”[/color]

[color=#5c7085]“No.”[/color] Roderic’s reply cut through the cold. [color=#5c7085]“I can feel it. Something’s wrong in the ice.”[/color]

He folded the parchment and looked toward the mist-wrapped horizon. For a moment, the young lord’s expression softened — the weariness of a man forced to bear his father’s crown before its time.

[color=#5c7085]“Ready the wall teams. I’ll want the volunteers briefed before midday.”[/color]

[color=#8b8b8b]“The newcomers, my lord?”[/color]

[color=#5c7085]“Aye. If they’re here to earn their keep, they’ll have their chance soon enough.”[/color]

The bell rang again — once, sharp and clear.
The sound carried through the fortress corridors and down into the barracks where the new arrivals readied themselves.

The day had begun, gray and cold. Somewhere in the distance, a single crow cawed before falling silent again.

And though none could yet see it, out beyond the frozen sea, something vast was moving beneath the ice.