"That fortress looks impregnable," I whispered, still shaken by the raven's watchful gaze as we retreated from the ridge.
Alaric's face was grim in the fading daylight. "Every stronghold has a weakness. We just need to find it."
We gathered in a small clearing, safely hidden from view of the Peak. The men looked exhausted, faces drawn with fatigue and tension. I wasn't faring much better, my muscles aching from days of travel and skirmishes.
"The main entrance is suicide," Kaelen stated flatly, sketching a rough map in the dirt with a stick. "Guards at every point, exposed approach. We'd be dead before reaching the gate."
Cassian nodded in agreement. "And scaling the walls is equally impossible. The rock face is too sheer."
I studied their makeshift map, recalling Alistair's fragmented information. Something tugged at my memory. "Alistair mentioned tunnels, didn't he? Ancient passages from when the fortress was first built?"
