The battle thundered, and the roar of the guns mixed with the chilling whistle of bullets. The officer, having risen with difficulty from the bloody ground and thrown off the dead body of the enemy, was breathing heavily. His heart was pounding, his boots were stuck in the mud mixed with blood and scraps of greatcoats. Only rare silhouettes of Osseri remained around, cowering in the remnants of defense, but the enemy pressure was only increasing.

His hands were shaking as he still held the shoulders of the enemy soldier. Suddenly, he jerked, opening his bloodshot eyes, and rushed forward with inhuman strength. In a panic, the officer pulled out a short knife and slashed his throat with all his fury. Hot blood splashed on his face, but he froze - in front of him was not just flesh, but a "shadow", a ghost of hatred.

Shells tore the air above his head, the ground trembled under his feet. Fear and cold horror paralyzed every movement. The thought that the Kaldmarians would break through the front was not a guess, but a sentence. He had no chance to survive, just like those innocent people who were behind him. With a convulsive gesture, he bit into the dirty skin of the dead enemy with his teeth, like an animal, choking in despair. Tears, dirt, blood mixed on his face. In his thoughts, he asked for forgiveness and quietly said goodbye, looking at the clouds that mockingly and calmly floated above the slaughter. This became his last memory.

✠ ✠ ✠ ✠ ✠

The shots died down at the front, but the tension hung in the air like a taut string. You were allowed into the tent camp by special order of the military authorities. The soldiers of Ossera greeted you with strangely cold glances. Their eyes slid over you with disdain, and in that silence you could feel the hatred.

You walked along with other families and loved ones, and joyful exclamations were heard around you - people found each other, threw themselves into embraces, cried and laughed, returning for a moment to the illusion of peace. But your path did not end there.

You were led further, deeper into the camp, where joyful voices did not sound. There, a thick stake was driven into the ground, roughly scorched by fire. A man was chained to it by his hands and feet. Kayren. Your best friend.