PREVIEW

... wallowing the world in a gray haze.

Ezra stood at the head of his army, Abyssfang resting on his shoulder.

Behind him, his forces waited—silent, tense, ready.

Across the valley, the Iron Lords' army appeared through the mist.

50,000 strong.

A sea of iron and steel, banners flapping in the cold morning wind.

The ground trembled beneath their march.

Ezra smirked.

"Good," he muttered.

"Come to me."

---

...

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