The messenger arrived at dawn, his body covered in wounds, his horse collapsing from exhaustion at the gates of Ashenford.
Michael was in the garden when he heard the commotion. He walked to the gates and found a young man being helped from his saddle, his clothes torn, his face pale. In his hand, he clutched a sealed scroll, the wax bearing a symbol Michael had never seen before—a black sun rising over a burning city.
"Michael Voss," the man gasped. "I bring word from the eastern territories. The Dark Exodus has begun. An army of a million souls is marching toward Ashenford. They are led by a figure known only as the Exodus King. He claims to be the true heir of the First Flame, the Titan, and the Abyssal King. He has gathered every remnant of every enemy you have ever faced."
Michael
