AISLYNThe war doesn't announce itself with chaotic entrance at first.

It begins with discipline.

The northern drums beat in slow, deliberate cadence, each strike measured to unsettle rather than rush. From the battlements, I watch their formations tighten, ranks aligning with mechanical precision, banners snapping hard against the wind. Three hosts now fully assembled, each positioned to cut off retreat, to starve Redmoon of options before blood is ever spilled.

They expect fear.

Elliot stands ...