The Ocean of Death
One more day passed.
The first rays of morning sunlight slowly rose beyond the distant mountains, painting the eastern sky in shades of gold and crimson.
Normally, dawn in Fantom City was peaceful.
Merchants would begin opening their shops.
The smell of fresh bread would drift through the streets.
Children would run through the roads before their parents called them back.
Today was different.
The city felt strangely quiet.
The morning sun still shone upon the rooftops.
Birds still flew across the sky.
The wind still carried the scent of grass from the plains beyond the walls.
Yet beneath that peaceful surface lingered a tension so heavy it felt suffocating.
Thousands of people had spent the night awake.
Some prayed.
Some sharpened weapons.
Some simply sat beside their families, unwilling to waste what might be their final peaceful night together.
Then it appeared.
Far beyond the plains.
Far beyond the reach of ordinary arrows.
