Several hours had passed since the last screams of the paladins vanished into the storm. Snow covered the trails of blood, blanketed the corpses, and muffled the ruins of once-magnificent temples, now reduced to rubble and embers. The Church's branches on the Dark Isle had all fallen in a single day; none remained standing. Even the inter-island teleportation circle, the only swift path to the outside world lay shattered, its magical cracks closing like broken glass swallowing light.
The zombie army had already returned to the castle. They stood stiff in the courtyard, a frozen black phalanx amidst the snow, awaiting their next command. The Ancient Titan still kept its watch at the gate; its towering frame, now glazed in ice, loomed like a mountain, yet its eyes still gleamed, guarding the silence.
