The roar became deafening. The plain of Karthak, a vast expanse of dry grass, trembled under the cadenced step of thousands of Pilaf's soldiers. The sun, relentless, made the tips of the lances and steel helmets sparkle, transforming the marching army into a serpent of luminous scales. Facing them, Maggie's battalion seemed derisory, a thin line of iron and willpower standing against a tidal wave.
Maggie felt the familiar weight of her halberd in her hands, but the sensation was different. It wasn't the same as when she faced spectral horrors or corrupted beasts. Today, the point of her weapon was aimed at men. Beings of flesh and blood, with families, fears, a breath like her own. A dull nausea coiled in her stomach, quickly suppressed by the piercing cry of an enemy trumpet.
"Hold the line!" she screamed, her hoarse voice carried by a sudden wind.
