he Swift Rhino cuts through cold air at altitude, its engines humming the particular note they make when Wan has made adjustments he has not told Garrik about. Below, the eastern ranges of Padlya resolve into darkness and stone. Somewhere ahead, visible only as an absence against the stars, is Dreadhollow.
Alfred stands at the bow. He does not speak. The Lion Blade is at his side, and somewhere in the ship's hold is Hope of the Kingdom, and around him are the people who chose to be here — which is the only kind of company worth having, in the end.
The blood moon is three days away. The circle is completing. Whatever went through that door three thousand years ago is about to have company.
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