The morning of the 25th arrived cloaked in an uneasy silence.
A fine mist hung low over the city of Zlego, the dew unusually persistent as it clung to rooftops, cobblestone streets, and blades of grass well past the morning hours.
A pale stillness settled over everything, and while the world appeared calm on the surface, a suffocating tension churned just beneath.
The people of Zlego moved through the day like ghosts, every glance filled with apprehension, every heartbeat echoing the same dreadful thought: Would the demons attack today?
It was a thought that had haunted their minds every day since the last attack—since the fall of the city's once-vaunted 'impregnable' barrier.
During that time, while they were hastily rebuilding their walls in preparation for the next siege, the news of the massacre of the dark elves reached their ears.
