Prologue — The Forsaken Ashes
The wind still howled, heavy with ashes and bitter memories. Each gust seemed to whisper the names of those who were no more, as the silhouettes of soldiers moved through the smoldering ruins.
They worked in silence, their faces blackened with soot, their arms heavy with exhaustion. Lifeless bodies — friend and foe alike — were piled onto makeshift carts. The ground, soaked with dried blood, clung to their boots with every step. The groans of the wounded, sometimes interrupted by final, choking breaths, occasionally shattered the grim stillness of the battlefield.
No one spoke.
There was nothing to say.
Victory didn't taste the way they had hoped.
The trees, once towering and proud, now stood as charred specters. The sky, painted a sickly gray, refused to let sunlight through. The acrid stench of burnt flesh clung to their nostrils, impossible to ignore.
