Seventy kilometers south of Bentram's capital, Jay Snow suddenly pulled his horse to a halt.
The stallion protested, its hooves scraping against the rocky road, but Jay hardly noticed.
Something had brushed against his senses.
It was not Blessing, it was not Intent. Nor was it the presence of a powerful Blessed.
It was... more sinister, his breathing became shallow.
For the first time in life, the lines across his face began to ache. "
His eyes turned toward the capital. Dark clouds had gathered above the White Forest.
Not storm clouds, something far worse.
Without another thought, Jay turned his horse around. "Go."
The stallion leapt forward.
Soon horse and rider disappeared into a cloud of dust.
The White Forest had become unnaturally still.
No birds sang, no insects buzzed.
Even the towering white pines no longer swayed.
Nature itself seemed to be holding its breath.
