The morning air at the Astraia-Valerion Border Wall was biting, carrying the frost of the northern peaks and the scent of damp earth. Huge stone ramparts, which had stood for generations as a symbol of the South’s submission, now groaned under the weight of a new tension. On the Valerion side, the garrison soldiers looked down from their high battlements, their faces pale and drawn. They had heard the rumors of the trade blockade and the fall of Orestes, but nothing had prepared them for the sight currently unfolding on the horizon. A low, rhythmic thrumming began to vibrate through the soles of their boots, a sound like the heartbeat of a giant.
Constantine sat atop a black stallion at the crest of a nearby hill, his gaze fixed on the fortress gates. Beside him, Isabella adjusted her clo
