The towers of the Vorah border rose like black spears against the gray afternoon sky. The wind whistled through the sharp pinnacles of the walls, carrying the magical dust and broken promises of that ruined land. The gates were open just enough to allow a cart or lone rider to pass through—the kind of cautious opening typical of a territory still wary of its own neighbors.
It was by this route that she arrived.
Mounted on a black horse with a snow-white mane, Stella Blazer crossed the uneven stone road without any sign of haste. Her posture was straight as a sheathed blade, and her golden eyes burned like embers beneath her dark hood. She wore a scarlet cloak embroidered with designs reminiscent of rising flames, but her attire did not betray ostentation—only authority.
