The decision was made in the snow.
"The Shrine," Marquis Konrad said, staring up at the jagged peak that loomed over Winter-Hold. The summit was shrouded in perpetual clouds, but now, faint flashes of purple lightning flickered within the grey mist. "It's been forbidden for centuries. Only the Elders were allowed to climb the steps."
"Tradition is dead," Rurik growled, wiping blood from his lip. "My son is up there. If the gods have a problem with me trespassing, they can file a complaint after I punch them."
"We go now," Caspian agreed, his voice tight. "The magical pressure is rising. Whatever the Boss is doing, he's accelerating the timeline."
Primrose tightened the straps of her snack bag. She wasn't a warrior, but she was the only one who had stood face-to-face with the Boss before and lived. She had a feeling she would be needed.
Duchess Freya turned to the children.
