The long abandoned mill complex sprawled across the dried riverbank. Some of the old stone buildings were still connected by rotted, open walkways. Windows without glass sat dark… except for the faint glow of firelight that leaked from one side of the central structure. Five months of hunting the scattered ex-Saltfire cells had led to the last stronghold of the leadership.
Yatrel er Goltbred crouched in her battle outfit behind the petrified tree line with twenty-three volunteers from various Guilds. All united by the knowledge that the people inside had tried to murder their families. A few of the heroes from that day and their relatives were among the number, but so too had many from Guilds that had been attacked by the sigil-breaking artifact joined up for this at various times over the half a year.
