The forest and the whole surrounding of Crescia was covered in mist this particular day. Shadows of witches could be seen marching through the forest both on horse and by foot.
Alexander hid behind a tree with his face masked with a shawl. The mist acted to his advantage as he moved stealthily claiming two lives already. And coupled with his vision, he could spot them easily. By the time the witches had marched across the border, he had already killed at least fifty witches.
The sun rose casting the mist away and only then did Griffin notice dead bodies behind. He held his hand in a halt gesture and alighted his horse to examine a witch whose throat had been slit.
"They are waiting for us," he said. An evil smile curved up his lips. This was a good sign. All the Crescians would be fighting on this front while his Arcadian counterparts overtook the capital. All he had to do is sacrifice a few witches. They were worthless beings after all.
