Theo

The battle had raged forever, or maybe that was just how it had felt. Theo hadn’t really noticed the time passing. There was just an onslaught of raised swords, arrows to be dodged, and an endless sea of druagers coming at him. He had fought and fought until the strength in his body was gone. Until the pain from his own wounds became too much for him to bear.

When he had dropped to the ground, ready to give up, Pontius guarded him until Nesha could grab him. She flew him to the encampment about half a mile away from the battle with strict instruction to get looked at and get rest. Yet somehow, he had managed to walk himself back despite the aching limbs and a sense of exhaustion that was threatening to overtake him.

So many lives, so many friends.

Gone.

He wanted to weep, to mourn their passing. But he felt numb as he watched the survivors pull the dead from the field. Carts were stacked to almost overflowing, and there was still more to gather.