After leaving the city walls, from where he could see the entire city, he now knew that the war had ended in the city of Arkham.
The wind high above still carried traces of ash and a faint smell of smoke. From up there, everything had seemed simpler. More distant.
Adam reached the spot where the mercenaries were gathered; they had set up several makeshift tents and were sitting in silence… but there was a bit of noise.
The low crackling of the campfires mingled with the soft clink of metal, the tightening of leather, and muffled footsteps on the hardened earth.
Adam walked among them without stopping. The low campfires barely illuminated the tense faces, hands busy adjusting straps, inspecting weapons, checking blades that had already been used too many times.
Shadows fell across their faces, hiding more than they revealed. Still, it was enough.
The air still carried the scent of the recent battle.
