Dawn broke slowly over the shattered city of Komkana, the first light revealing streets scarred with fire and blood.
Smoke still curled lazily from burned rooftops, and the acrid scent of ash mixed with the metallic tang of spilled blood.
Soldiers of Draco moved methodically through the city, securing every building, dismantling traps, and taking prisoners under strict supervision.
Komkana had fallen, but Alexander's conquest did not end with victory—it demanded order, obedience, and the assertion of Draco's absolute authority.
Alexander stood atop the central keep, overlooking the city with the same piercing intensity he had wielded on the battlefield.
His cloak, now flecked with ash and grime, billowed slightly in the morning breeze.
Zena approached him, a small scroll in her hand, and bowed sharply.
"My lord," she said, voice measured but urgent.
