The night pressed down like a heavy shroud over the shattered empire, the weight of countless unspoken truths thick in the air. Cambria stood atop the Watchtower's highest battlement, the wind tearing through her hair, the scent of ash and blood mingling with the cold. Below, the once-proud capital lay in ruins an empire fractured, a people left trembling in the shadows of their own fears.
Maddox joined her in silence, his boots scraping softly against the stone. His face was drawn, eyes hollowed by too many sleepless nights, too many battles fought not only with sword and strategy, but with loyalty and doubt.
"We've held them off for now," he said at last, his voice low, as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness. "But Knox's forces regroup with every hour. And those dark stars, whatever they truly are, keep falling. Each one brings more horrors."
