Of War [v1.0] - Ashes

Bram spit a dark glob of phlegm into the snow. "How many left, Captain?"

Bram grunted, leaning heavily on a walking axe that had long since lost its edge. "Scraps won't buy us bread in the Lowlands. Assuming the Lowlands haven't burned just as bright as the Ridge." Ashes of War [v1.0]

Instantly, the oil sizzled. A faint, ethereal glow emanated from the rust, casting a sickly blue light across Silas’s gaunt face. This was the residual echo of the magic that had ended the war. The world was dead, but the weapons still hungered. Bram spit a dark glob of phlegm into the snow

They called it the Ashing. It had been seven years since the Great Compact was shattered, and the skies had never truly cleared. Assuming the Lowlands haven't burned just as bright

"They aren't coming back for it, Silas," a voice rasped through the fog.

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