Fabric of Fate

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The wind pummeled Dannon Keep, whistling through a crack in one of the thick stone walls. The rain battered the slate rooftop and wooden shutters, but was denied entrance. Abrah Dannon sat with his booted feet toward the roaring fire, elbows resting on the heavy wooden arms of his chair and fingers steepled together. His faithful wolfhound Carn lay asleep at his feet. He peered into the crackling embers wishing he could observe the future there, but all he could see in the flickering flames were images from the past.

It had been a hard, brutal year. Illness had struck his home with a vengeance and, in spite of all his best efforts, the fever had taken his mother and youngest brother in the span of a week. By the time help and medicine had arrived from Castle Garen it was too late, at least for them. Others under his protection had fared much better than his family had. Now only he and his brother Heroc remained.

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