The dawn that followed the fall of the gods was a strange, fragile thing.
Soft light spread across the land, revealing a world broken yet breathing. The fires that had consumed the sky were gone, leaving smoke trailing like ghosts over the ruined battlefield. Crows circled above, their cries sharp against the silence. And at the heart of it all, Cambria stood at the edge of what was once a throne, now reduced to ash and stone.
But this story was not hers alone.
Far to the north, where the war had not yet reached, Knox's former capital stirred with unrest. Word of the gods' fall had traveled on the wind, carried by refugees, deserters, and whispers. The people waited, fearful, wondering who would claim the shattered empire's crown.
And in that moment, as history hesitated between peace and another storm, he returned.
The King in Exile
Knox rode alone.
