Rolan stood silently on the scorched battlefield, the wind carrying the scent of ash and death. His eyes scanned the aftermath. The undead forces had been eradicated—his army stood victorious, if not weary. The Undead General had been vanquished by his own hand, a hard-earned victory. But his thoughts were already consumed by the greater threat—the Undead Lich. That entity was no ordinary foe. It was a calamity given form.
He could not afford to half-heartedly respond to any move it made. Every decision now had the potential to become fatal if mishandled. One wrong command, one miscalculation, and all could fall to ruin.
