The sun hung low on the horizon, bleeding red across the western sky.
Kael stopped on the ridge and looked out. The light was warm, golden at the edges, deepening to crimson at the center. Clouds stretched across the heavens in long, ragged strips—painted orange and pink and violet by the dying sun. They moved slowly, drifting east, casting shadows that slid across the hills like living things.
It was beautiful.
For a moment, Kael just stood there, watching the sky burn. Then he lowered his gaze.
The road ahead cut through fields—terraced plots that had once been cultivated, now overgrown with weeds. The irrigation channels were dry, cracked mud running through them like scars. Wooden poles stood crooked in the earth, remnants of fences long abandoned. Beyond the fields lay the village.
Small. Maybe thirty houses, clustered together around a central square. Thatched roofs. Mud-brick walls. A well in the center.
Kael walked forward. The fields gave way to the village outskirts.
