Ashes of the empire

The wind carried the ashes of past battles. As far as the eye could see, fire-blackened ruins stood like the broken bones of a fallen empire. The world had become a perpetual battlefield, where only the strongest—or the most cunning—could hope to survive.

Kael Vareth adjusted the sheath of his sword with a mechanical gesture. Before him, a still-warm corpse lay sprawled on the dusty ground. A man who, just moments ago, had sworn to kill him. Like so many before him.

"Promises mean nothing in this world," Kael murmured, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.