It was already midday, but heavy clouds blanketed the sky, casting a cold, grim pall over the Bloodstained Highlands.
A northern wind swept across the land, dragging snowflakes and dust in its wake. The sharp rustle of wind wailed like ghosts, yet even that eerie sound couldn't drown out the din of battle—
The cries of war, shouted curses, clashing steel, collapsing bodies, and the shrieks of dying warhorses…
A chaotic yet distinct cacophony, underscored by the final, fading breaths of the dying—a brutal symphony of war.
The once white landscape was soaked in blood, which melted and refroze into dark crimson ice. Shattered armor, tattered cloth, snapped blades, broken limbs, and mangled organs littered the ground like grotesque brushstrokes on a canvas of carnage.
The fighting raged on.
