They were silent.
No one spoke.
No one even dared to breathe too loudly.
The entire battlefield fell into a strange stillness that did not belong in a place that had just been torn apart by violence.
The shattered ground stretched out in every direction, broken stone rising like jagged teeth, dust hanging in the air like a thin fog that refused to settle.
The border town walls stood damaged, parts of them cracked and chipped, while the once orderly formation of soldiers had long since been scattered by the overwhelming force of the clash.
Yet none of that mattered now.
All eyes were fixed on one place.
The spot where the Warchief had been buried.
The Captain stood frozen, his grip on his weapon tightening little by little, his knuckles turning pale as his gaze did not move even for a second.
