The Riders of the North
The eastern banners had already burned, but the north did not bow. The Iron Tribes gathered their horsemen, drums echoing across endless plains. Tens of thousands rode beneath skies heavy with storm, their armor blackened iron, their faces painted in ash.
At their head rode the War Shamans, cloaked in furs, wielding spears tipped with bone carved from ancient beasts. They chanted to spirits older than empires, their voices calling thunder and storm.
The tribes declared: "Fire cannot outrun hooves. Fire cannot pierce storm. Inevitability dies beneath the Iron charge."
The Watchtower Decides
Hei Long watched the horizon, his cloak unmoving in the wind. His women stood at his side, their fire bound tighter than armies.
Qingxue clenched her sword, eyes burning. "Then let me cut their charge. Let them learn horses bleed the same as men."
