L
Fenroot trained his gaze cityward as the army recovered and fell into formation behind him.
He commanded them to throw the dead bodies into the sea. No ceremonies. No goodbyes.
They were in the middle of war.
“How are we coming?” Fenroot asked the group of elves toiling in the sand.
A harsh wind blew, and the sky was filling with gray storm clouds.
Just the kind of weather he wanted.
“I am certain that this will work,” Moss said, circling the air above him. “And in a rainstorm of all weather events. This will be spectacular, Fenroot.”
“Your estimate of the magical power better be correct,” Fenroot said.
“Trust me,” Moss said. “I’ve tasted the magic on the wall. At least fifty-seven dragons contributed to it. As long as our force contains the power of at least fifty-eight dragons
