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FARCASTLES: CHAPTER THIRTEEN – THE SHATTERING GROUND The first clash rang out like a bell cracking. Sarra met the lead deserter mid-sprint—her blade a streak of iron wind. Steel shrieked against steel, then tore through it. The man fell without a sound, and his shadow didn’t follow him. Torv flowed to her flank, striking low, fast. The second attacker crumpled from a blow he never saw. Ern stood frozen a moment longer. Then the ground groaned again. The rift behind them widened. From the pit, something surged—not a creature, not yet, but a presence, like breath behind stone. Heat that didn’t warm. Light that didn’t shine. Myrr raised both hands. Glyphs flared in their palms. The stones around the sealed site buckled upward into jagged walls, catching arrows in flight. Myrr shouted a word that sounded like wind breaking over bone.
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