The eastern gate of Berdhshire Fortress groaned open just as the first rays of dawn pierced the smoke-laden sky.
Through the gap rode two figures on horseback, their mounts foam-flecked from hard travel. Behind them followed a dozen of the witches of the coven.
They entered the inner walls of the castle, stopping near the stables.
Elizabeth dismounted first, her red hair immaculate despite the long ride, not a strand out of place beneath her silver circlet. Her dark eyes swept the courtyard with calculating precision, taking in every detail of the fortress's defenses and the exhausted faces of its defenders.
The fortress was filled with soldiers and people moving around. The fortress didn't have any damage, but it can't be said the same happened with its people.
