The grey snow fell not from the clouds, but from the smoldering bones of the world.
Silas knelt in the black mud, his fingers tracing the rusted edge of an old infantry shield half-buried in the frost. He wiped away a layer of grime to reveal the faded crest of the 4th Legion—a roaring lion, now blind and scarred by pits of corrosion. Ashes of War [v1.0]
Silas looked back at the small, shivering cluster of campfires tucked into the ruins of a collapsed watchtower. A handful of hollow-eyed refugees and three wounded soldiers were all that remained of a proud garrison. The grey snow fell not from the clouds,
Silas pulled a heavy leather skin from his belt and uncorked it. Instead of water, it contained a thick, shimmering oil—rendered from the fat of the fallen beasts that now stalked the ruins. He poured a single drop onto the shield's surface. Silas looked back at the small, shivering cluster