The gates of Winter's Crown creaked open as Damien and his allies rode into the city. The streets were unusually quiet, the usual hum of activity subdued by the weight of the dawn. Word had spread quickly of Vale's capture. People peered from their windows, their faces marked with equal parts hope and fear as they watched the soldiers escort the infamous traitor through the cobblestone streets.
Vale was bound in heavy iron chains, his cloak torn and dirtied from the fight in the forest. Yet, despite his disheveled appearance, his dark eyes gleamed with defiance. He walked with his head held high, as if he were the victor returning home, not a man captured and destined for judgment.
Damien rode beside him, his steel-gray eyes unyielding. He could feel the tension radiating from the people. Some whispered curses at Vale, while others simply stared, too stunned to speak.
