The silence after the battle was deafening. The fields outside Blackmere were littered with the remnants of Rellen's failed invasion—broken banners, shattered weapons, and the groans of the wounded. Damien stood on the battlements, his steel-gray eyes surveying the aftermath. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the battlefield, but Damien felt no relief.
Blackmere had held, but at a heavy cost. Soldiers limped through the courtyard, their armor stained with blood and mud. The victory was hard-won, but it wasn't complete. Rellen's forces had been routed, but the man himself had been dragged into the dungeons below Blackmere's fortress, his bitter words still ringing in Damien's ears.
"You're no savior, Damien. You're just a man trying to rewrite a history that won't forgive you."