The snow had followed me into battle. It settled upon my black armor, caught in my hair, and melted against my skin as I rode through the northern forest. The sky above was pale and merciless, the bare branches stretching like skeletal fingers toward the clouds. Somewhere beyond these woods, my enemies were gathering their remaining forces. The Humans. I had ruled Vaeltharion Eryndorath for centuries. I had watched kingdoms rise and crumble, buried warriors whose names had long since been forgotten, and spilled enough blood to understand that mercy was often a luxury kings could not afford. I had no intention of losing this battle. Around me, my soldiers raised their weapons, their cries echoing between the ancient trees. The clash of steel soon swallowed every other sound. I fought without hesitation. An enemy lunged toward me. I turned, parried his strike, and drove him back into the snow. Another approached from my left, and I met him before he could raise his blade. My movements were precise, practiced over centuries of warfare. Yet even experience could not account for every blade. Pain tore through my side. I glanced down briefly. Blood seeped between the engraved plates of my armor, dark against the silver detailing. I tightened my grip on my sword and continued fighting. I would not allow a wound to decide the outcome of this battle. I was not a man who intended to die today. By the time the enemy began to retreat, the forest had fallen into an uneasy silence. My surviving soldiers regrouped farther down the trail, tending to the wounded and searching for those who had become separated during the fighting. I should have gone with them. Instead, I took a few steps toward the trees, intending to inspect the northern perimeter myself. Then another wave of pain struck. My breath caught. My knees buckled, and I reached for the nearest tree to steady myself. My fingers pressed against its rough bark as I waited for the dizziness to pass. I looked down at my armor. The damage was worse than I had realized. Damn it. I attempted to straighten, but my legs refused to cooperate. With a quiet curse, I lowered myself to the ground, my back coming to rest against the enormous tree behind me. The snow beneath me was bitterly cold. I let my sword slip from my hand. It landed beside my leg with a dull metallic sound, its blade partially buried in the white powder. For a moment, I did nothing but breathe. Snow drifted between the branches overhead, settling upon my shoulders and gathering in my hair. The forest seemed impossibly quiet now that the battle had ended. No shouting. No steel. No commands waiting to be given. Only the wind. I pressed a gloved hand against my side, feeling the warmth of blood beneath the torn armor. I closed my eyes, fighting the instinct to surrender to the exhaustion dragging at my limbs.