Kingdom of Ash

of its many oversized hearths, Aedion could
count the marks of every brutal winter upon
the gray stones. Could feel the weight of the
castle’s storied history on those stones, too—
the years of valor and service, when these
halls had been full of singing and warriors,
and the long years of sorrow that followed.
Ren had claimed a worn, tufted armchair
set to one side of the fire, his forearms braced
on his thighs as he stared into the flame.
They’d arrived late last night, and even
Aedion had been too drained from the trek
through snowbound Oakwald to take the grand
tour. And after what they’d done this
afternoon, he doubted he’d muster the energy
to do so now.
The once-great hall was hushed and dim
beyond their fire, and above them, faded
tapestries and crests from the Allsbrook
family’s banner men swayed in the draft