The next day, the sky was overcast with thick, gray clouds, heavy with the promise of rain. A cool wind swept through the castle grounds, carrying with it an ominous stillness, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
A lone rider approached the grand gates of Edenael, his cloak drenched in morning mist. He dismounted swiftly, his boots splashing against the damp cobblestone. A royal guard stepped forward, his grip firm on his spear as he observed the messenger with suspicion.
"State your business," the guard demanded.
The messenger, panting from his long journey, reached into his satchel and retrieved a tightly sealed roll of parchment. "A letter from Blazzarene. Urgent," he said, pressing it into the guard's hands.