The scream tore through the silence of the night, raw and desperate, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than the throat. I was on my feet before I was fully awake, my heart pounding, my hands reaching for a weapon that was not there.
The scream came again, and I recognised it.
Kaelen.
I ran. The corridors of Frosthold were dark, the torches burned low, and the shadows thick and menacing. I did not think, plan, or pause to dress or arm myself. I simply ran, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
His chambers were at the end of the corridor, the door heavy oak, banded with iron. I did not knock. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
