The unnatural cold that clung to the air, as if even the world itself recoiled from what was happening. He remembered the way the sky darkened that day.
He remembered the sound of buildings collapsing and of people crying out for mercy that never came.
And he remembered how helpless he had felt.
All he could do was watch as the dark legions swept through his village like a plague. Creatures not born of nature but of rot and blight and cruel design. His hands had shaken so badly he couldn't even hold the sword properly at that time.
He remembered how he lost his father right before his eyes.
Now, standing on the edge of another battlefield, watching those same horrors march forward with hollow eyes and twisted limbs, something inside Jaenor snapped.
His breath grew sharp.
His fists clenched.
Rage surged through him like wildfire.
These monsters had taken everything—his home and his father, and they made him leave his home.
