A deep, resonant sound tore through the sky as the war horn bellowed across the vast green plains. It rolled like thunder, stirring the gathered armies into motion. Like three great rivers converging upon a single point, the forces of the Durn, the Jul, and the Yan advanced toward the dome of magic.
Their banners, inscribed with symbols of their respective nations, fluttered in the wind as countless feet and hooves pounded the earth in a steady rhythm.
The expedition had begun.
Yet, beneath the rhythmic march and the rigid formations, a quiet tension gripped the soldiers. They moved with discipline, but in their eyes lurked the weight of the unknown. They were stepping beyond the edge of familiarity, into a place where even the bravest knew death was likely. But for their homeland, for the threat within the ruin, they pushed forward without hesitation.
