The southern border outpost was a derelict stone structure that had once served as a tax-collection station before the northern wars. Situated in a shallow ravine where the mountain pine forests dissolved into the low valley scrub, its timber roof had long since rotted away, leaving only jagged, soot-stained granite walls that choked under a thick blanket of creeping ivy.

Nila reached the edge of the ravine as the moon crossed its highest point. Her lungs burned from the miles she had traveled on foot, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps that billowed like white smoke in the freezing midnight air. She crouched behind a low cluster of gorse...