The crackling of the fire was vibrant and warm against the cold air and the thunder that rolled in from the distance darkening the sky. The smoke that rose from the large fire in the center curled in thick gray tendrils, mixing with the cool night air.
The camp was alive with men and women ready for battle, they began to gather around a large fire in the center.
The firelight illuminated their faces, rough, scarred, and determined. The banner of Ashfall fluttered behind them, a symbol of their fractured world, a blackened tree with twisted branches resembling a crown.
Relton Vale, leader of the rebellion, stood tall at the center, his eyes gleaming with a fire that matched the one before him. His cloak, tattered from countless battles. The rebels were an army of the oppressed and disillusioned men and women who had suffered from the wars between the courts. They watched him with a mixture of reverence and hesitation.
Tonight, the plan would come into formation.
