Samuel

This is the second book in the "Where Paths Lead" series. (The first is "Brianna") Ten years have passed, Prince Samuel and Eric have taken the kingdom's military to the next level. Kingdom Governing, Evil Encroaching, Family Bonding and at the center of it all was GOD and his will Enduring.

The night enveloped the world in a cloak of darkness, with the moon casting its silvery glow across the landscape. It began its ascent, illuminating the world with a gentle brightness that provided a soft contrast to the deep shadows below. The air was filled with the soothing whispers of the wind, the grass undulating like billowing waters.

It was Eric's turn. Slowly, he emerged from a small grassy knoll, weaving through the tall grass that swayed gracefully in the gentle breeze. Each movement was deliberate, proof of the countless hours of training that had led him to this point. He had learned to harmonize with his environment, moving with the wind that whispered secrets across the vale.

In the early days of his practice, his joints had protested, aching as he honed his skills. But now, those same elbows and knees were accustomed to the rigors of this night's mission.

With the moon illuminating his path, Eric focused on the distant tree line, seeking the fleeting shadow of a swaying branch. Though the moonlight was bright, it was the confidence in his training that guided him forward through the darkness, swaying to the rhythm of the shadows as though engaged in an ancient dance.

Upon reaching the edge of a mossy stone wall, he stood poised and silent, his heart steadying as he spotted his target. A lone guard patrolled the ramparts above, vigilant yet ultimately unaware.

Timing was crucial; he observed as the guard turned, shielded from his peripheral vision. He took the first measured steps toward the castle's stone base. His softened leather boots made little sound against the ancient stones. Eric began his climb. Fingers deftly sought the crevices of the wall, a well-practiced routine that lent him this grace. He moved upward with careful intent, finding foot and handholds that would bring him closer to his target, seamlessly blending into the nocturnal world that surrounded him.

Each breath was a reminder of his purpose: to seize the moment that awaited him high above the castle's grounds.

An elite band of soldiers had been formed, and a uniform of dappled greys and tans was part of their camouflage. His face and head were covered by a grey slit hood that blocked any reflections that might glare from their skin, whether from the sun, moon, or flame, so that their presence would not draw attention.

If the guard were to scan the walls, he would only need to keep frozen in place until he'd turned again.