'Five Warbringers are dead.'
Those words came harder to Elesha than they seemed. Her vision went blurry for a brief second, momentarily unable to believe the current reality.
Warbringers were a thing of legends to the world of Vortharion. Whenever there was one even so much as passing by, entire nations celebrated. People flooded the streets, sang their names, and cheered at the top of their lungs.
Elesha could still remember the day she saw her first Warbringer. It had been a cold morning, winter, when the snow was thick enough to reach the knees of a clueless eight year old.
She had worn every coat and sweater she owned and forced her father to take her out at dawn, just to watch the legend pass.
That day, she and her father had to fight through millions just to get a chance to see the figure of legend.
