The wounded cried out in agony and Fay wondered if she had done the right thing. She wandered to wherever the cries were loudest and tried to offer what help she could. In the end, more died than lived. Every wound felt like a tear in Fay’s heart and she could barely muster up the energy to cross the barren wasteland that had been their battlefield to report to her liegelord the death toll. Over five hundred from his estate alone.

Fay glanced back at the blood soaked land as she mounted her horse. The family and friends of the deceased looked up at her with eyes filled with loathing and hatred. Fay lifted her eyes to the impressive force that still loomed in front of them, hardly battered by the past battle, and a solitary tear ran down her grimy face.

“It is always darker before the light.” Fay glanced over at Christopher and he looked solemn as his eyes took in the damage around them. Fay followed him to his tent, thinking to herself, ‘Is the dark really worth it?’