The dawn was gentle, a pale golden light stretching across the fields, revealing a hazy, mist-covered world. The early morning mist hovered above the ground, turning the surroundings into an ethereal painting. Lyan stood silently at the front of his troops, watching the distant movements of the Varzadian forces. His eyes narrowed, his gaze focused and calculating, the edges of his lips turned downward in a slight frown. This was it—the moment he had been preparing for, the beginning of their stand against the invading Varzadians.
His elite soldiers, hardened fighters with years of experience, remained quiet and calm behind him, their expressions ranging from stoic determination to barely-contained anticipation. They were ready. This wasn't just about a kingdom or territory. It was about defending their people, their families, their homes. The soldiers were armed and prepared, each one knowing their role in the fight to come.
