Side by side, Asher walked the cobbled path toward the castle gardens, Sapphira beside him, and their twin sons toddling ahead—plucking flowers, giggling, and occasionally glancing back to make sure their parents were still following.
Because of them, the pace was slow, almost reverent. But neither of them minded.
"I can see something's troubling you," Asher said, squinting slightly in the pale morning light. "What is it?"
Sapphira exhaled, her breath visible in the unseasonal chill. "They're coming. I can feel it… their presence grows stronger with each passing month."
Asher glanced up at the silvered sky. "It's only the eleventh month, yet the snow's already falling. It doesn't usually start until halfway through the twelfth."
Sapphira nodded solemnly. "A sign. A warning."
