I woke from my sleep to a rush of wind. The room was cold, bitter cold. I clutched my blanket tightly and took a deep breath. Something was wrong. I rolled off the bed silently and lit my bedside lamp. The flame flickered softly before filling the room with a dim light. It was still hours until dawn. Why had I wakened?

I crept to the window and glanced outside. The quite street outside the inn was empty, no one dared break the stillness that had settled. It had been a warm day, I had spent most of it training outside and sweat pooled at the base of my neck from the sun's rays.
Yet, the window fogged with each breath as though it were freezing. I touched the glass pane and my hand ached from the cold. I closed my eyes.

The whispers. They called. The voices of those long gone. They begged. They coaxed. They needed me.

When I opened my eyes, the room was warm once more. The fog was gone.

I smiled.

The sun rose as I mounted a borrowed horse from the stables. I left behind a few coins as a promise of return. The creature seemed to understand the rush and did not complain as I pulled it from its freshly filled hay trough.

Where was I going? I wasn't sure. The skyline lay before me, a promise made of gold and red.

I simply followed the whispers, I had no idea the grand adventure that lay before me.