Prologue

The sun dipped below the spires of Draugenshire, casting long shadows that tangled with the cobblestones of the lower districts. Annalise adjusted her threadbare shawl against the chill of the evening breeze, her sharp eyes scanning the bustling market square. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced pastries, but the laughter of children and the chatter of merchants felt distant, as if muffled by an unseen hand.

She maneuvered through the throng, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and determination. As a maid in the opulent estate of House Vornhart, she was accustomed to lingering in the background, unnoticed. But tonight, a sense of urgency gnawed at her. The vision she had experienced just days earlier haunted her still: a glimpse of a city engulfed in flames, the cries of the afflicted echoing in her ears, and the figure of Duke Ethan Vornhart standing against the chaos, a lone sentinel amid the horror.

But the worst part was that this disaster was not an immediate threat—it would come in a year. Annalise knew she had to prepare, but she could not share the truth of her vision. If anyone learned of it, they would think her mad, and she would lose any chance to influence the only noble who might help her—Ethan himself.

Pushing her way to a corner stall, she feigned interest in the wares. The vendor, a grizzled man with a friendly smile, caught her eye. "Evening, lass. Care for some bread? Freshly baked!" 

"Not tonight, thank you," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. Instead, she leaned in, lowering her voice. "Have you heard any news? About the sickness?"

The vendor's smile faded, replaced by a wary glance over his shoulder. "Aye, whispers of it. People disappearing, acting strange. Best keep your head down, Annalise. The nobles don't take kindly to panic."

She nodded, biting her lip. The nobles, with their feasts and grand balls, were blissfully unaware—or perhaps willfully ignorant—of the horrors creeping into their pristine realm. If she could only reach Ethan Vornhart, she might convince him to take action. But how could she approach him, a mere maid, and propose a union that would give her the influence she needed to prepare for what was to come?

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the edge of the square. A group of armored figures, the Knights of Vornhart, rode in on horseback, their polished armor glinting in the fading light. Annalise's heart quickened; she recognized Sir Cedric among them, his warm smile a beacon of hope amid the darkness.

"Make way!" he called, his voice booming, and the crowd parted. Annalise felt a pang of admiration, not just for his stature but for the ideals he represented—honor, protection, and loyalty. But she also felt the weight of her own insignificance in the face of such power.

As the knights dismounted, Sir Cedric approached the vendor, exchanging pleasantries. Annalise seized her chance. "Sir Cedric!" she called, stepping forward, her voice trembling with urgency. "I need to speak with Duke Vornhart. It's important."

Cedric turned, his brow furrowing as he took in her earnest expression. "Annalise, what's troubling you?"

"It's about the sickness," she said, carefully choosing her words. "I fear it is spreading. We must take precautions. If we wait too long…" She trailed off, afraid to reveal too much.

Cedric studied her for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "You're right to be cautious, but I assure you the duke is aware of the rumors. We have men investigating."

Before she could respond, a sharp cry pierced the air. A figure stumbled into the square, pale and disheveled, their eyes wide with terror. "Help! They're coming! They're taking us!" 

The crowd gasped, and chaos erupted as people shouted and pushed away from the newcomer. Annalise's heart sank; this was the sign she feared. 

Sir Cedric stepped forward, drawing his sword. "Calm down! What do you mean? Who's coming?"

But the figure crumpled to the ground, convulsing, their body wracked with spasms. The crowd recoiled, panic spreading like wildfire. Annalise felt a knot tighten in her stomach—this was no ordinary illness.

"Get back!" Cedric commanded, but it was too late. The crowd surged, a tide of fear and confusion. Amid the chaos, Annalise's gaze locked onto Cedric's, and in that moment, she felt the weight of her secret pressing down on her.

If she was to propose to Ethan, now was the time to start formulating her plan. She needed to be close to him, to earn his trust, and to prepare for the catastrophe that loomed just beyond the horizon.

As the knights moved to restore order, Annalise clung to the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she could reach Ethan before it was too late. The shadows of the city deepened around her, and the whispers of a coming storm echoed in her mind.

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