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Five months ago, they had stood alone on the battlefield, staring down the combined might of two proud princes and a snarling pack of rebel lords.

It didn’t matter that four brutal months later, they were the ones left standing tall atop the smoking ruins of their enemies’ ambitions. No festival, no victory feast, no amount of golden laurel wreaths could ever bleach out the raw memory of that hopelessness—the cold, gnawing certainty that they would be crushed under a tide of ...

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The smell of blood invaded my nostrils. I watched helplessly as the woman standing over me raised her sword. I was completely drained, I had no mana left, no items, nothing. As the crimson tendrils held me down by my arms and legs, all I could do was wait for my death.

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Suddenly, words before me shifted and changed into something different. I took a shallow breath as I heard a faint heartbeat.

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