On a vast hill, thousands of coffins were lined up neatly.
Heath stood beside the Emperor and Harriet, whose body was tightly wrapped in an oversized white fur coat. Liam stood by her side, embracing her waist tightly.
The four of them stared into the distance.
“They are young soldiers and knights…” Heath whispered.
The Emperor fell silent, while Harriet turned, looking up at him.
“They are so strong and brave. But the war took their souls just like that.”
Heath's words pierced Axias' heart painfully. The middle-aged man's eyes narrowed at Ezekiel and Ezra who were standing far away from them, leading the procession close to the rows of graves dug in this vast hill.
"Even if we won, we've got nothing but sadness," Heath whispered quietly.
Harriet raised her hand and stroked her brother's back gently. She looked at the young man with a calm and warm gaze.
