The bodies were strewn like discarded dolls, limbs twisted in unnatural angles. Flies buzzed in the air, the stench of rot thick and cloying. Birds circled overhead, cawing hungrily. Some of the corpses still wore their armor, though most of it had been shattered or torn clean off.
Arrows jutted from backs, chests, and skulls. Many of the faces were frozen in expressions of horror, eyes wide and mouths open in silent screams.
The royal crest was unmistakable black and gold designed across tattered cloaks.
Travis stumbled back from the nearest corpse, his breath shallow and rapid.
“No…” he rasped. “These were my comrades. The King's men.”
Selene’s heart thundered as she stepped closer to one of the fallen. A soldier. His chest was caved in, and his sword arm had been severed completely
