Prince Lechlian's gaze lingered on the battered skyline of Arduoronaven, the city he had dreamt of reclaiming with fire in his heart and steel in his hand. Now, as its gates stood open before him and its walls bore the scars of recent conquest, he felt… nothing.
No joy.No triumph.Only a quiet, creeping unease curling in his gut like smoke from a dying fire.
He rode slowly, almost absently, through the churned mud outside the walls, the hooves of his horse squelching in the thawing earth.
He had dreamed of this moment, of reclaiming what was stolen, of erasing the shame left by the defeat of last year . And yet now that the city was his again, now that he had marched through its gates and raised his banner over its keep, he felt only the weight of inevitability pressing down on his shoulders like a wet cloak.
He had won it back… but for how long?
