The air was thick with smoke and the copper tang of blood.
Bodies lay strewn across the forest floor, goblins and knights alike. Fire licked the edges of the trees, casting the battlefield in flickering amber. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, and then was silenced.
And through the chaos, he came.
A man in polished silver mail, streaked with red, spear in hand and bloodlust in his eyes.
Jason Ravenshade.
A True Knight.
He strode through the chaos like it parted for him, toward the heart of the battlefield. Toward the one he had come for.
"Finally," Jason said, voice calm and venomous. "You show yourself, coward."
He stopped a few paces ahead of the burning log wall, eyes narrowing at the figure approaching him.
Lumberling didn't reply.
He stepped forward without fanfare, spear in hand, blood dripping down his shoulder. His cloak had been torn. Smoke clung to his skin like a curse. But his eyes were steady.
No words were needed.
