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"You have to plant a garden," she said, a small, fierce smile playing on her lips. "The war is over. The duty of the sword is done. Now comes the duty of the hearth."

The King of a dead land took a breath of the cold, clean air. The duty of a king was to his people, and for the first time, his people weren't just the dead. He turned away from the edge, his stride no longer that of a man hunting a shadow, but of a man finally walking home. 125015

Lan looked back toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to break through the perpetual gloom. For the first time in his life, he didn't see a battlefield. He saw the faint outlines of where the towers would rise again—not as fortresses, but as homes. "You have to plant a garden," she said,