Nesterin stood in front of the gate. His sight set upon the plain where rotten plants and dying soil sat next to lush grass and thick bushes.
It was the border between life and death.
One was filled with animals, insects, bushes, plants, fruits, and the others were filled with decay and emptiness.
The sound of working men as they hauled boulders, logs, and bricks sounded behind him. Hammer slammed on steel. Men shouted from above the tower.
But even with that, Nesterin still felt the silence of the land beyond. It was the eery silence of the night. The eery silence he would have for walking inside a graveyard. It was the silence of death.
"I hope they're fine," Nesterin said.
The Black Wolves had informed him that they had already passed Barmwich. Which meant that they were close now. Nesterin stood here to wait for them.
