The air stank of ash and blood. Dawn had barely broken, but the city of Blackreach lay cloaked in a darkness thicker than night, the sky bruised with storm clouds and smoke. Above the ruins of shattered spires and broken walls, the banners of fallen houses hung like tattered ghosts.
Cambria stood upon the highest tower of the citadel, the wind pulling at her scorched cloak, her gaze hard as iron as she looked down upon the smoldering city. She could hear the cries of the wounded, the clash of steel where the battle still raged below, and the faint, eerie hum of the magic that poisoned the air.
This wasn't just a war for a throne anymore.
It was a war for the soul of the world.
The Enemy at the Gates
Knox appeared beside her, his once-golden armor blackened and cracked, his face pale beneath streaks of blood and soot. His eyes, those terrible eyes that now glowed faintly with the remnants of the black flame, scanned the battlefield with grim clarity.
