After a momentary glance at the sprawling city before him, Damien turned his head away.
The look had lasted no more than a few seconds, yet it revealed all he needed to know.
Dreamy Sky City was rich—obscenely so.
Ornate buildings lined its avenues, their rooftops gilded with fine metalwork. Stone-paved streets glinted under the sunlight, and banners woven from expensive silks fluttered weakly in the wind. The scent of perfumed incense and spices drifted faintly from the inner walls, a stark contrast to the battlefield stench behind them.
And yet, none of this opulence had ever benefited Valthorn.
All of that wealth could have belonged to their kingdom—should have belonged to them—if not for the relentless harassment and bloody history between the two.
Despite being situated beside a forest teeming with resources, Valthorn had been shackled by conflict. Every step forward had been met with sabotage. Every spark of progress, snuffed out.
