Under the cover of night, an ominous silence hung in the air, heralding impending events, but who would listen? On the edge of a valley, nestled between rolling hills and the turbulent river, stood an impregnable castle, its spires clawing at the sky. Its high, stone walls, illuminated by torchlight, would’ve seemed almost serene, were it not for the dark wave rising before them.
The Moon army, arrayed in formidable ranks — a spectacle worthy of a painter’s brush and a poet’s verses — stood ready. Each soldier, clad in black armor that shimmered under the serene moonlight, bore the emblem of the Crescent Moon — a symbol that had become a testament to the unyielding resolve and unity of the mortals.
The soldiers who were literally marching to their deaths were almost shaking with anticipa
