The army moved like a living thing—segmented, synchronized, relentless. From his position near the vanguard, Liam could see the columns stretching back for miles, a dark serpent of steel and determination cutting through the Radiant countryside.
Day one of eight.
The math hadn't changed. Only the urgency.
"Fourth Order reports from the eastern flank," Lieutenant Zara said, riding up beside him on a massive warhound that looked like it had been bred in a nightmare. She held a dispatch scroll, her expression unreadable. "Three enemy scout teams neutralized. No survivors. They were positioned to track our movements and signal ahead."
"Good." Liam kept his eyes forward, watching the road ahead disappear into rolling hills. "How long before the next checkpoint?"
"Four hours at current pace. There's a river crossing—the Silvervein Ford. Kael'thra's advance team is already securing it, but the scouts report increased enemy activity in that sector."
"Increased how much?"
