Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Blizzard
Night fell over Crown Mountain like a collapsing lead weight. Sheltered beneath a jagged granite ledge, Rowan huddled close to the enormous bird, sharing his last meager scraps of softened bread. The eagle took the food gently from his calloused fingers, its golden gaze locked onto his face.
"You are not worthless," Rowan whispered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. They were the same labels foster guardians had pinned to him over the years—difficult, temporary, unsettled, troubled. Nobody had ever framed his photographs or called him son without hesitation. Yet here, sharing frozen isolation with a creature hunted by the most powerful men in the state, Rowan felt a strange kinship.
Suddenly, the sharp crunch of hooves broke through the screaming wind.
Rowan froze, pressing himself flat against the freezing rock. Blackthorn household riders, their lanterns shielded with black iron, moved slowly along the lower trails.
"Lord Alaric wants the eagle recovered before sunrise," a muffled voice carried through the snow.
"What about the young man?" another asked.
A chilling pause followed. "Bring him down."
"Alive?"
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"That was not specified."
Rowan’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. They weren't just managing a diseased animal; they were hunting witnesses. The official proclamation from Blackthorn Hall about diseased breeding lines was a lie, and the realization sent a cold shiver down Rowan's spine that had nothing to do with the winter storm.
