Polyxena clenches her jaw. She is no friend to her Trojan family, but the deaths of kin still pain her.
Silence falls among your crew and all you can hear for a while is the low hum of the wind against the sail.
You remember that flaming tower well. The smell of burning flesh still in your nostrils.
You cut through the enemy like an angry fist–part human, part more than. You didn't even feel the flames on your skin. And your soldiers, they followed you unquestioningly, as always…