POV
...
War, we thought, would remain a distant thunder beyond the horizon.
But that was only a few days ago.
That evening, the sun bled red across the battlements. Traders from the northern villages stumbled in with mud-stained boots, eyes wide, voices trembling. They spoke of Kaen's army moving fast—too fast—like a tide breaking over the land. Villages burned behind them. Whole fields of wheat trampled into ash and smoke. Still, the captain of the guard told us not to panic. "They'll not breach us in a day. Our walls are the pride of Vangal. Sleep soundly."
I tried. Gods know, I tried. But sleep did not come easy that night.
The city groaned in its slumber. Dogs barked at nothing. The forge-fires hissed long into the dark. I lay on my straw mat listening to the wind howl through shutter cracks, and I swear the air already smelled faintly of ash.
The next day, Prince Kaen's army besieged the city. They demanded surrender, but it was naturally refused.
