By the time Isabella, Cyrus, and Kian reached the stone hall used for receiving guests and discussing important matters, the snow outside had already grown thicker again, and white flakes kept falling in a quiet steady way that made the whole village look softer than it really was.
Of course, this place could hardly be called a village anymore.
Even though people still used that word out of habit, anybody with eyes could already see that it had long grown past that stage. The roads were better. The buildings were stronger. The walls were higher. There were watchtowers, rules, organized food storage, training grounds, proper rooms for discussions, and too many things that ordinary villages could only dream of. So when the messenger from First City sat there with his polished smile and smooth words, Isabella already knew what was coming.
Naturally, she did not walk in on her own feet for long.
