By late afternoon, the sun had begun its slow descent towards the west. Darkness would soon spill across the land and cloak everything in night.
Yet even before dusk arrived, vast clouds—shaped like towering anvils—rolled down from the north.
They swallowed the burning orange of the sky, casting a heavy shadow over the plains and turning the air bleak and oppressive.
The young teenager wept without restraint. The gloom that gathered overhead seemed to mirror the ruin in his chest.
His elder brother and their neighbour lay motionless upon the ground, their bodies limp and unresponsive. Only the faint rise and fall of their chests proved that life still clung to them.
After the two knights and the lady had departed, more men arrived—but they kept their distance.
Cloths were wrapped tightly across their faces, covering from the bridge of their noses to their chins. None dared to step closer.
