Graveknit stood amid the broken remains of the battlefield, its mismatched bones twitching as thin strands of black thread slowly pulled its body back together. Not far from it, Carrion rested his cleaver over his shoulder, the edge still dripping with dark blood. Both of them turned their attention toward the wall where Aiden stood, unmoving, his figure outlined against the dimming sky.
Graveknit took a step forward, its posture lowering slightly, almost like a bow. Its hollow voice came out uneven, like something dragging across dry stone.
"My lord…?"
Aiden didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the distance, where the surviving human army had retreated, their figures small and scattered as they regrouped beyond the battlefield. Smoke still rose behind them, and the faint noise of hurried movement carried on the wind.
"Let them be," Aiden said at last, his tone calm, almost indifferent.
Carrion shifting his weight. "As you wish, my lord."
