Thousands march into battle…
Not all will return.
The morning sky was the color of ash.
Even the sun struggled to shine through the thick clouds hanging over Crimson Valley.
It felt as though the world already knew what was coming.
War.
The palace courtyard was alive long before dawn.
Soldiers tightened the straps on their armor.
Blacksmiths made last-minute repairs to swords and shields.
Horses stamped nervously against the stone.
No one laughed.
No one spoke louder than necessary.
Everyone understood the truth.
Some of them would never see Moonspire again.
I stood beside Kael as he prepared his armor.
His breastplate was scratched from countless battles, but he refused to replace it.
“It still protects me,” he always said.
This morning, however, I noticed something else.
