Lan looked back toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to break through the perpetual gloom. For the first time in his life, he didn't see a battlefield. He saw the faint outlines of where the towers would rise again—not as fortresses, but as homes.
"I spent my life avenging what could not be defended," Lan said, his voice like grinding stone. "I made peace with my death a long time ago. I do not know how to live with a crown that isn't made of thorns." 125015
The King of a dead land took a breath of the cold, clean air. The duty of a king was to his people, and for the first time, his people weren't just the dead. He turned away from the edge, his stride no longer that of a man hunting a shadow, but of a man finally walking home. Lan looked back toward the horizon where the