Malrik's pov
The sky was on fire.
From where I stood on the jagged ridge of the Aelwin Mountains, the fortress looked like a bleeding wound in the belly of the land. Flames licked the stone walls like a starving beast. Smoke rose in thick, black columns, veiling the stars as though the heavens themselves refused to witness what I had done.
And yet,I didn't flinch.
"Sir," a voice spoke behind me. Ralor. Faithful to the end, though I often wondered if that made him brave or foolish. "The eastern flank has fallen. We intercepted the reinforcements before they could cross the river. The victory is complete."
Victory.
What a pathetic, hollow word.
I didn't answer him right away. My eyes remained fixed on the burning stronghold. The place I once called home. The place she still defended.
I inhaled deeply. The wind here was sharp, cold, untouched by the ruin below. It bit through my cloak, as if trying to carve through the weight I carried.
"This isn't revenge," I finally said.
