Alena

The silvered moonlight filters through tattered clouds, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield that stretches before me and King Roak. Our shadows fall long and distorted across the ravaged earth, twin specters of the desolation that cling to our weary souls. We stand side by side, a tableau of spent fury, our armor dented and smeared with the somber palette of war—rusty crimson and earthy brown. Silence, thick and oppressive, hangs between us as we absorb the magnitude of ...