The crimson shadows lengthened across the flats as the last rays of the sun dipped behind the peaks.
A quiet, heavy calm descended upon the valley… a silence shattered only by the rhythmic crunch of boots on gravel and the low, muffled whimpers of the bound Coalition prisoners.
The thick stench of iron and burnt marrow hung heavy in the mountain air, but the chaotic roars of battle had finally given way to the organized, rhythmic sounds of a victorious army taking control.
Under Commander Thauren's harsh and efficient direction, the surviving Veynar loyalists, despite their exhaustion and wounds, worked with grim determination.
But still it was mostly the kids who were doing most of the work, as most of the Veynar warriors were either extremely exhausted or injured to varying degrees.
They disarmed the kneeling Coalition prisoners, stripping them of their weapons, armor, and supplies, binding their wrists with heavy hemp rope.
