The walk to the valley's eastern edge took less time than Jack expected.
The landscape shifted as they traveled. The smooth stone streets gave way to rough terrain, rocky paths and steep cliffs.
The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of fresh water and something that made his nose wrinkle.
'Probably demon blood,' Jack thought, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of recent combat. 'Four years of fighting would leave traces everywhere.'
He was right. The further they walked, the more evidence of war became visible.
Scorched earth, the ground was still blackened and cracked from the intense heat.
Craters from explosions that had torn chunks from the landscape.
Broken weapons half-buried in dirt, blades snapped, hafts splintered, all rendered useless by violence.
And bones. Demon bones, picked clean by scavengers, scattered across the battlefield like discarded toys.
