Lights swept all corners of Gauthem... the wails had dwindled to sobs.
Armies marched as if blind—corpses disregarded. The haze bled scarlet. Citizens alive gaped in morbid fear, kneeling: a prayer to the Aêther.
Many lived. A many died. Treachery burrowed deep in Gauthem uprooted overnight. Only seven remained.
There were seven more to fall.
"This place is next," a figure whispered, bleak eyes observing—hair tethered to the wind.
"We are too cruel to our fellow man. Spilling blood for empty notions of loyalty and honor…" Alistair said, sighing. "I am the same; a life shall fall to vengeance."
His gaze shifted from the scenes of destruction, scanning, silence reflected—
—Until Aradric.
Fogs of war shrouded, black vans parading—armored and armed. Men situated within smiled, cackling, weapons of silver glistening. Ammunition carted in boots.
