The next day came heavy.
The air around the town felt tighter than before, as if even the wind had slowed, unwilling to move too freely across a place that had already seen too much death in just a few days.
On the walls, the guards were already in position long before anything appeared.
No one joked.
No one spoke louder than necessary.
They had learned.
They knew what was coming.
Far from the town, across the open field that had once been stained with blood and half-buried weapons, something moved.
Thousands of figures marched forward in slow, synchronized steps, their movement steady, almost unnaturally consistent. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Just a single, unified advance.
At the center of it all, a carriage rolled forward.
The skeletal horse pulling it let out a hollow, rasping sound, its empty eyes flickering faintly as it stepped over uneven ground without slowing.
Inside, Aiden sat quietly.
