A Whispered Confession

Night fell over the Frostfang Mountains like a shroud of black velvet. The wind had died down to an eerie, breathless whisper, carrying the distant, foul stench of rogue wolves massing at the valley floor. In the high armory, Kaelen stood patiently as Selene helped him lace the dark leather straps of his reinforced chestplate. Her hands were steady, working with practiced care. When she finished fastening the iron gorget…