The night was growing comfortable, spreading its invisible tendrils and drowning the atmosphere in pitch-black darkness.
The streets of South Drywall were barren and sparse, the cold night breeze the only thing that patrolled the littered avenues. Some stray creatures played among the debris—there was one known as the Canbird, a winged beast with an elongated beak that loved to perch on cans and devour metal.
The pecking of the Canbird created a hollow, rhythmic beat of impending doom. In the silent and deserted streets of Drywall, the hollow wind made it even more ominous.
The night itself drenched everything in a cold sense of dread.
All the Citadels that resided in the city had joined the army, though no Citadel possessed the manpower to contribute as much as Tharion Citadel.
This was expected because usually, every Citadel claimed a city or nation as their base—the foundation they first allied with and which served as their backbone.
