Town B had fallen, almost certainly the following night Town A had.
An entire settlement wiped out between dusk and dawn.
One of the younger soldiers trembled. "Sir… how many days until the next closest town sends a message like this?"
The commander didn't answer immediately.
Because he already knew: Too few, far too few.
The soldiers made camp just outside the town walls, refusing to sleep inside the deathly quiet settlement. Torches ringed their camp in a tight defensive circle, their flames flickering uneasily.
The commander stood at the edge of the firelight, looking back toward the empty town.
Two towns, two nights apart. Both gone.
A sign that the enemy wasn't just spreading, It was accelerating.
And behind it… something far more organized than wild beasts.
The commander's grip tightened on the plea letter from Town B.
If another raven came tomorrow… it might already be too late for that town as well.
He wasn't the only one thinking the same.
