The days following the completion of the assault squad's preparations passed quickly, and with each sunrise, the tension in the village grew. The villagers sensed that something was coming, an inevitable storm that loomed on the horizon. Ashen could feel it too, a weight that settled over his shoulders as he made his rounds through the village. He knew that their time of peace was nearing its end.
In the early morning, Ashen stood atop the central watchtower, overlooking the village and the swamp beyond. The landscape was still, shrouded in mist, with only the occasional sound of birds breaking the silence. From this vantage point, he could see the entire village, from the fortified gates to the fields where crops were now growing thanks to the Druids' blessing. The sight filled him with a sense of pride and determination—this was what they were fighting to protect.
