The clouds drifted like poison dust across a sky dark with prophecy.
Three women, princesses, stood on the high walls, granite so high and sheer that the road below was silent and grey as air. We watched as they, the deathly ones, marched the royal road below us, their stone teeth broken and bloody, their ice eyes rotten with hate.
No retainers came to shoot fire arrows through the cloud-dark battlements, no knights massed at the black iron gate, shut still, and forever. We were alone here now. We waited, and watched.
As I looked down on the marching ones, the king of ghouls raised his eyes to mine, implacable, amused, hungry.
What are the three of you, to us? Windblown on your castle walls, lonely, while the sun is fading to red you will be safe.
But as night falls….