Dawn arrived swiftly. By then, Atticus hovered at the edge of the territory with the others. The morning air was cold and gentle, sweeping through their clothes in a soft cadence.
A sheen of golden light reflected from below. Atticus looked down at the millions upon millions of soldiers stretched out beneath them.
They were clad in gleaming armor that caught the morning sun in a harsh flare, turning the entire army into a sea of gold.
Each stood tall, eyes sharp, posture unwavering. The night had been long, but Atticus had ensured they were given enough rest. They would need it for what lay ahead.
Still, he was satisfied.
'They're ready.'
He glanced at his people. Ozeroth. Whisker. Anorah. Magnus. Noctis. And even Ozerra. Aside from Whisker, they had all donned armor in preparation for the battle.
