Act III, Chapter 16: The Ghost Diminishes — and Aldric Begins to Burn

The moonless night came in like a verdict.

Aldric had counted the days with the precision of a man who has found religion in the only ritual left to him — scratching small marks in the mortar between the stones of his fireplace, where no one would think to look and where the act of marking felt like the only honest transaction he still performed. Twenty-six days since Seren had ridden east into autumn. Eleven days since Seravane had smiled at him with the gift of her knowledge. And tonight — the moonless night, the seventh since the battlements, since the last apparition, since his father had stood before him with a neck angled wrong and righteousness still burning in eyes that no longer required light.

He did not wear his cloak. The cold would be useful. He needed something outside himself to be true.