Nightfall descended upon the Tharz Kingdom.
The moon's pale rays stretched across the eastern lands, settling over one of its cities.
Bathed in silver light, Coldwind stood beneath the heavens, solemn and still.
The city itself lay in ruins.
The aftermath of the Saberfang's attack was a tapestry of destruction, shattered walls, streets scarred by deep gouges, and the silent, dark shapes of buildings reduced to rubble.
A pall of dust and despair hung in the air, broken only by the moan of the wind through broken structures.
Coldwind city was now like a wounded beast, bleeding silver under the moon's gaze.
Yet, in one corner, the Fang estate blazed with defiant life.
The banquet was a riot of light and sound, a stark island of warmth in the sea of desolation.
Lanterns glowed like captured suns, casting dancing shadows that laughed at the stillness outside.
