CHAPTER 91
A Century Ago
The sky, still dark and bruised purple, split open in shades of iron and rust, light bleeding across the horizon in slow, heavy bands. In the war camp, movement began before sunrise, quiet at first then growing into a rhythm of war. Weapons were being checked, armor strapped tight, battle sigils painted across skin and steel.
Marcus was surrounded by duty, comrades, and noise, yet haunted by silence. On the outside, he was a man preparing for battle while waging a quiet devastating war within.
Marcus sat on a wooden bench near the edge of camp, sharpening his blade by rote. The steel made no sound as he repeated the process mechanically. He wasn’t even pressing hard enough.
His fingers trembled, so he focused on the movement, dragging the whetstone down, bre
