By the time they reached the city's outer gates, dusk had already swallowed the forest behind them. The walls loomed ahead—tall, scarred stone glowing in the torchlight, banners fluttering weakly in the night wind.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The survivors just stood there, too tired to care, too numb to feel relief.
Damien slowed his pace. His boots dragged faint streaks of soot across the dirt road as he surveyed the guards stationed above. Spears glinted in the light, crossbows pointed down. The sound of armor shifting filled the air.
"Stop where you are!" the lead guard called. "Identify yourselves!"
Apnoch stepped forward, his armor cracked and darkened from the battle. "Captain Apnoch of Delwig," he rasped. "We're survivors."
The guards exchanged uncertain glances. "Delwig? You mean the fortress city?" One of them leaned over the wall, squinting into the gloom. "We haven't heard from Delwig in days."
