It was at this that Theo looked around himself, taking in the decimating war that had claimed the lives of so many people. The dead bodies were crying in his head, and the sound of swords clashing still rang in his ears. Death had its particular smell, a nauseating odor that seemed to penetrate even the spaces between his fingers. The battlefield was a grotesque tableau of shattered lives and broken dreams, with the bodies of fallen warriors lying in grotesque contortions, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the darkening sky.The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of smoke, mingling with the earthy smell of freshly churned soil. Flies buzzed around the corpses, their droning hum adding to the eerie stillness that had settled over the camp. The once vibrant grass was now matted with gore, a grim reminder of the fierce battle that had raged here.After an hour of searching, the exhausted victors watched as the dying light stretched the shadows of the f
The next morning Cyrus faced the army at the center of the battle, holding up Xeik’s head for everybody to see. The atmosphere glowed expectantly in combination with the sickly stench of burnt meat and a lingering smell of gunpowder that always hung in the air. The warm glow of the sun the next morning generated shadows stretching over the field over the debris of the battle that had happened the day before. Armor, swords, and shields were demolished; dead bodies of warriors were scattered around. The sky above was dark, grey, and heavy with the smoke of ashes and the wind carried the weak, dull moaning of people who were lost in the fires.With a look of desolation and resolve, Cyrus looked at the aftermath of the tragedy. His face was now smeared with dust and perspiration, his lips tightened into a narrow grim line as he spoke to the remaining soldiers of the South pack. ‘Put away your arm,’ he instructed, sharply yet still tired. "This battle is over." His eyes roamed to and fro o
"Enough!" Castilla's voice boomed across the camp, commanding immediate attention. The battlefield fell silent as she emerged, her presence authoritative and intimidating. The early morning sun cast long shadows, illuminating the scene with an eerie glow. The remnants of smoke from the battle hung in the air, mingling with the scent of blood and fear. The metallic tang of the bloodshed mingled with the earthy scent of the trampled grass, creating a nauseating mix that seemed to seep into the very soul.The camp was a chaotic tableau of the aftermath of war: bodies strewn across the ground, some still and others writhing in pain. The sky above was a canvas of reds and oranges, the dawn breaking through the smoky haze. The remnants of campfires flickered weakly, casting a ghostly light over the fallen warriors. Birds circled overhead, their cries a mournful counterpoint to the silence below."Bring Cyrus and Agnes forward," Castilla ordered, her voice cold and calculating. "If they resi
In the midst of the confusion, Cyrus and Agnes seized the opportunity. With swift, precise movements, they disarmed the soldiers holding them. The clang of metal rang out as they turned the soldiers’ weapons against them, swiftly ending their lives. The ferocity of their actions was a testament to their desperation and resolve. Blood spattered across the dirt, mingling with the morning dew, creating a stark contrast that highlighted the brutality of the moment. The adrenaline coursed through their veins, their senses heightened as they moved with lethal efficiency, driven by the need to survive and protect their loved ones.Panic spread among the remaining South pack soldiers. Their ranks, once confident and disciplined, were now fractured under the onslaught. Their eyes darted wildly, searching for an escape from the chaos that had engulfed them. Audrey and Castilla, realizing their plan had crumbled, attempted to flee. Their frantic steps were cut short by a group of Northern soldie
The war was over, but the tension in the air was palpable. Cyrus stood in the grand hall of the palace. The cheers of victory from earlier now seemed distant and hollow. They had been victorious but he could not forget that Lady Asher was a traitor. He still could not figure her out. She had killed their enemies, King Ares and Larog but she had also killed men loyal to Ghysem. What was her deal and where did her loyalty lie? Or was she just a killer for the thrill of it? His heart wrenched painfully, struggling to believe that the woman he had seen as a grandmother all these years was actually someone who could kill without any remorse. Someone who could kill and take pride in it.His trusted advisor, Theo, stood beside him, mirroring his fear. He knew what Cyrus was thinking and he was thinking the same as well. "We may have won the battle, but the war against treachery is far from over," Cyrus muttered, his eyes fixed on the doorway where the noble lords would soon assemble. They
Soldiers had been dispersed all over Ghysem and the south which has now become a part of Ghysem. They had sent word to other neighboring packs in the West and East so there was no place for Lady Asher to hide. Each day was spent in anguish and constant nightmares for Cyrus. He kept seeing himself hanging from the ceiling with a black veil on his wrist. Other times, he would see Agnes; her face contorted in pain as she swung from the ceiling, a black veil tied around her wrist and anytime he cut the rope, trying to save her it would be too late.He would end up bringing down a lifeless body.Then he would wake up, covered in sweat and panting heavily like he was fighting a physical war. Tonight was one of those nights Cyrus was drenched in his sweat. His breathing was ragged and then his hands shaky with fear. He felt around the bedside table for a lantern and a match, then struck it to flame the lantern. He sat up properly this time and looked towards where Agnes lay, to be sure she
A sad smile graced Lady Asher's face. She took in a deep breath and then wiped a nonexistent tear as her mind floated back to her younger days.The tension of the war that had separated the North from the South had eased up a bit. It was not forbidden for citizens of Ghysem to venture into the South or vice versa. It was during the winter, and Lady Asher Ashlynn's husband had been sent on an errand by the king.Life was beginning to bore her, and she did not want to feel like a burden to her friend, who was queen. Usually, she would spend her whole day with her best friend, but her friend had duties to attend to, and she often felt like she was in the way.Ashlynn had seen the whole of the North, and her curiosity often made her wonder about the depths of the South. When she was a teenager and the war had happened, she had lived in the North all her life, and her dreams of visiting the South were crushed.She did not have any children, so there was nothing to stop her. It was the perf
Lad—Ashlynn,” she said in a shaky voice, her words little more than a breath. She originally had meant to say her title, Lady Asher, but there was something about the warmth Ares was giving her that made her change her mind.Ares' eyes were shown in delight. "A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady!" he exclaimed, awed by her queenly form. Her midnight locks flowed down her back like liquid ebony, highlights of chestnut shimmering in the light. Her emerald eyes were so deep, it felt as though they could look into his very spirit.Their talk had flowed along easily, as water flows along a gently inclined plain. They had said nothing for hours.Not only did Ashlynn possess ravishing beauty, but her intellect, her passion for art, and the gentle strength she exuded intrigued Ares. Her laughter was music to his ears.Ashlynn was intrigued by the layers of Ares’ personality- his intelligence, his underlying kindness beneath his mantel of dominance, and the faint glimmer of vulnerabilit