A few days had passed since Vaerin's funeral. New Drakhal was beginning to breathe again, but no one there believed the peace would last. Not really.
Kaelon spent his days at the training field, shaping recruits into an army still learning to walk. Orzoth, on the other hand, hardly left the meeting rooms — between gatherings with local nobles and constant communications with Caer Thalas.
It was during one of these meetings that the warning came: King Elion's scouts had detected abnormal movements in the demonic lands. The suspicion was clear — an attack was approaching. But the steps were too slow... too cautious. Maybe because of the fall of all the generals of the Order, maybe because of something else.
One way or another, Drayk and Orzoth knew: a continental war was about to begin. And New Drakhal was the point of connection. The only land link between the human and demonic territories.
