The dust of Vesperia greeted Greta's company with a harsh gust, clinging to their cloaks and hair. The air in the valley felt heavy, not just from the grit swirling around, but from the tension hanging thick like fog.
Matthias halted the group on a ridge a few kilometers from the ruins. Any closer, and Kaelen's men, or Zylos' soldiers, would sniff them out in no time. From here, though, they had a perfect view of what had once been a peaceful jewel of the land.
Vesperia had once been a fertile valley, a thriving artery of trade between the grand Auristellan Empire and the ever-power-hungry Kingdom of Zylos. Now its beauty was scarred, poisoned by a war that refused to die. Homes lay in ruins, smoke curling upward like black scars against the sky, silent witnesses to ambition that never burned out.
