[Two Days Later.]
[Upper world.]
[Wendigos' Kingdom.]
The wind atop the city wall tasted of ash and impending ruin.
King Garrard gripped the cold stone of the wall, his knuckles white, his claws digging deep enough to leave furrows in the rock. Before him stretched the horizon, and below him stood the last of his legion—Not more than two million of Wendigos, armed, snarling, and terrified.
Garrard's chest heaved. He looked at his side. Out of his Four Pillars, only Faye remained whole, though her spirit was visibly fractured. His First Pillar was gone—captive or dead. The Second lay in the infirmary, face burned to a featureless husk. The Fourth was a wingless, handless stump of a warrior.
The Wendigo race, once the terror of the Upper World, had been effectively castrated in less than a day.
"God Wolf..." Garrard's voice was a low, vibrating growl, heavy with a hate that barely masked his despair. "I will ensure your corpse rots in these lands."
