The last thing I'd seen of Brithlite with my own eyes was the city in flames. Demons had roved the streets, and Brithlitian fought Brithlitian in a struggle for freedom. That had been before I'd fallen into the shadows of Haven, before Brithlite's king had fallen beneath Arantius's sword.
But now, over a year later, the city was quiet. There was none of the smoke, screams, or blood that filled my memories. Broken towers and crumbling lengths of wall broke the skyline. A few scattered souls wandered the streets, picking their way through the rubble that still cluttered the city. Only a few markets and main roads had been entirely cleared, with a few merchants hawking wares even more sparse and wilted than those of Heartland.
