The tent reeked of unwashed bodies and damp earth, its canvas walls and racks of metal working equipment shuddering with every distant explosion.
The black rain pattered against the roof, a constant, oppressive drumming that did little to muffle the screams and snarls of battle beyond.
Sophia stood just inside the entrance, her silk attire damp from the drizzle, her green eyes scanning the rows of bound men within the tent.
They knelt in the mud, wrists lashed behind their backs with thick, chafing ropes, none of them spoke.
None of them dared to look up, their faces were hollow, their eyes dull (not with fear), but with the resignation of those who had long since stopped hoping.
Cerberus lingered beside Sophia, his armored frame casting a long shadow over the prisoners.
His helm was on, revealing nothing but his haunting green eyes, which shone with the emerald glow natural to green-eyed Wizards.
