The carriage came to a halt just shy of the imposing gates of the Stonehelm estate, but Boren hesitated to step down.
He lingered for a few moments, gazing through the window at the towering iron gates ahead, their surface intricately engraved with the clan crest, a mountain cleaved by a hammer.
The sight stirred something deep within him, a feeling he thought he had buried long ago when he left this place. Four months had passed, more than four months since he walked away without looking back.
Back then, he had silently vowed that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would never return to this estate to bow his head again. And yet here he was not dragged back by failure or summoned by command, but coming willingly to seek an audience with the very man who had never treated him like a son.
